The In Death Collection Books 16-20 - J. D. Robb [466]
She took a bite, nudged the cat back as he tried to belly toward her plate, then reached for the fresh coffee Roarke poured. “The victim worked for Luther and Deann Vanderlea.”
“Of Vanderlea Antiquities?”
“That’s what it said when I ran his data. How well do you know them?”
“I used Vanderlea extensively when furnishing this house, and others. Consulted with his father for most of it, but I know Luther and his wife. I wouldn’t call them personal friends, but certainly friendly acquaintances. He’s knowledgeable about his business, and very involved in the running of it at this stage. Pleasant enough people, and she’s very bright and charming. Are they suspects?”
“Luther was in Madrid at the time of the murder. As far as I can confirm at this point. Wife’s not on my list. In fact, unless she’s an award-winning actress, she and the victim were as much friends as boss and domestic. More. She took it hard, but stood up to it. I liked her.”
“I can tell you, from what I know of Luther, I can’t see him raping a woman, much less murdering one and cutting out her eyes.”
“He the type who might try to diddle with the maid under his wife’s nose?”
“One never knows what a man might try to diddle with under his wife’s nose, but it wouldn’t be my call where he’s concerned, no. They strike me as very happy together. I think they have a young child.”
“Girl, age four. Same age as the victim’s daughter. Deann Vanderlea’s having a very hard morning.”
“The victim have a spouse?”
“Ex. Lives in the Caribbean. Abusive history. We’ll look at him close.”
“Current lover?”
“Not according to Deann. Victim, Elisa Maplewood, purportedly went out, between ten and midnight, to walk the little foo-foo dog. We’ll get the exact from building security. Strolled into the park where he grabbed her. Waited—had to be waiting—attacked, raped, strangled, then carted her over to the rocks to lay her out, finish his job. Are the eyes a symbol?” she wondered. “Windows to the soul, an eye for an eye? Or a twisted religious ritual? Maybe just a souvenir.”
“You’ll want Mira.”
“Oh yeah.” Eve thought of the city’s top profiler. “I’m pulling her in this morning.”
She’d cleaned her plate while she’d talked and got up now to dress. “We could get lucky, and this was a one-time deal.”
“Why do you think it’s not?”
“Too organized and precise. Too many symbols. The eyes, red ribbon, the pose. Maybe we find all these apply directly somehow to Elisa Maplewood, but I think they apply to the killer rather than the victim. They mean something to him, personally. Elisa may have been a type: physically, her location, her background, something of the sort. Or it may have been enough for her to be female and available.”
“Do you want my help with the Vanderleas?”
“I might, at some point.”
“Let me know. Darling, not that jacket.” More resigned than appalled, he rose to take the one she’d yanked out of her closet, and after a quick study, drew out one with pale blue checks over cream. “Trust me.”
“I don’t know what I did before you were my fashion consultant,” she told him.
“I do, but I don’t like to think about it.”
“I know a dig when I hear one.” She sat to pull on her boots.
“Mmm.” He slid his hands in his pockets, and fingered a small gray button. One that had fallen off possibly the most unattractive, ill-cut suit he’d ever seen. One she’d been wearing the first time he’d laid eyes on her.
“I’ve a ’link conference shortly, then I’ll be in midtown most of the day.” He leaned over, laid his lips on hers. Left them there for a long, satisfying moment. “Take care of my cop.”
“That’s my plan. You know, I hear your friends say your cop is scary, mean, and relentless. What do you say about that?”
“Lieutenant, your friends say the same. Give my best to Peabody,” he added as he walked out.
“I’ll keep your best,” she called out, “and give her what’s left over.”
She heard him laugh, and decided that was every bit as good as coffee for setting her up for the day.
Setting up the appointment with Dr. Mira was her first task when