The In Death Collection Books 16-20 - J. D. Robb [289]
“I want all ’links and transmission devices as well.” She didn’t look at Roarke, kept her back to him. But her mind was muttering: Hurry up, damn it, hurry up. I can’t stall much longer.
“Lieutenant,” Roarke said a moment later, “I believe the locks are now disengaged.”
“Good.” She turned back. “We’re now entering the private home office of Niles Renquist.” She opened the door, called for lights on full, then took a deep breath. “Let’s get to work.”
The room was meticulously organized, even elegant in its choice of furnishings and decor. The antique desk held modern communication and data equipment, and what she concluded, after a puzzled study, was an old silver ink well and quill. There was a leather-bound notebook, an electronic calendar, and deeply cushioned chairs in dark, masculine green.
There was a neat black-and-white bath attached with the towels perfectly aligned on the rack.
He would wash up there after the murders, she presumed. She could see him perfectly, cleaning, grooming, watching himself in the long mirrors that shone on the walls.
She turned back, mentally measuring the room, and gestured to what looked to be a closet door.
“There. Five gets you ten his unregistered’s in there.”
She crossed the room, found the door locked. Rather than waste time, she waved to Roarke, then planted her feet at the sound of rushing footsteps.
With a pale peach robe swirling around her, Pamela Renquist rushed into the room. Her face was naked of enhancements, and looked older than it had. Her color was high, her teeth were already peeled back in a snarl.
“This is outrageous! This is criminal. I want you, all of you, out of my home immediately! I’m calling the ambassador, I’m calling the consulate, and your superiors.”
“Be my guest,” Eve invited, and all but slapped the warrant in her face. “I have all the proper authorization for this search, and I will complete same with or without your cooperation.”
“We’ll see about that.” She started to march to the desk, and Eve blocked her. “You won’t be able to use this ’link, or any of the house ’links until the search is complete. If you wish to make a call or send a transmission, you are restricted to the use of your personal ’links, in the company of a duly authorized officer. Where is your husband, Mrs. Renquist?”
“Go to hell.”
“He’s going to beat me there, I promise you.”
She caught the signal from Roarke out of the corner of her eye, and moved over to the unlocked door. She opened it.
“Well, well, well, what have we here. A little hidey-hole, complete with data and communication center. We’re going to find this is unregistered, Feeney. And look at all these discs. Renquist is a big fan of Thomas A. Breen, and his ilk. All these books and data on serial killers tucked in here.”
“It’s hardly against the law, even in this country, to have a private space, and to own books on any subject.” But Pamela was losing her furious color.
Eve eased farther in, and opened a barrel-shaped leather bag. “Not against the law to own surgical tools either, but it sure is funny. I’m sure he cleaned these very well, but I just bet we find traces of Jacie Wooton’s blood on them.”
She opened a long cupboard, felt her own blood pump when she studied the collection of wigs, the black cape, the city employee uniform, and other costumes. “Niles likes to play dress up?”
She booted a container of plaster with her toe. “And does his own home improvements, too. A real Renaissance man.”
Opening a drawer, she felt a little hitch in her heart. Then reached in with a sealed hand and picked up a gold band, set with five small sapphires.
“Lois Gregg’s ring,” she murmured. “I think her family will want this back.”
“Got another of that sick bastard’s souvenirs.”
Eve turned, saw Feeney’s face was white. He held the lid of a portable cold box, and she knew before he spoke what was inside.
“Looks like we found the rest of Jacie Wooton.” Feeney breathed slowly through his teeth. “Son of