The In Death Collection Books 21-25 - J. D. Robb [233]
“Larry, give it a rest.” The woman elbowed him back. “I’ll take it.”
“I got some good stuff on there,” Larry said as his wife nudged him back inside. “You can’t buy this kind of stuff.” The door finally shut after him.
Eve glanced back. She knew damn well Larry had that damn camera up to the security peep. She broke the seal on room 415, jerked a thumb at Peabody. She kept the door open just enough for her partner to squeeze through, then followed. Closed it. Locked it.
“Asshole.” Eve scanned the room, shook off the incident in the hall. “She comes in Friday, worked up. Got herself a new plan. Following a pattern we’ve established. Doesn’t mind hurting herself or her property to pin it on someone else. Complicate their lives. Pay them back. She’s laid in some supplies. We’ll check some of the markets. Harder to pin that down, though. But she’s going to have some supplies. The wine, soup, easy food.”
“She’s already planning how to take care of herself once she’s hurt. Blockers, then,” Peabody added. “Some soothers.”
“If she didn’t travel with enough, yeah. We’ll check that, too. Bet she has a drink first. Yeah. A big gulp of wine maybe. Maybe some solid food. Thinking, working it out.”
Eve walked the room as she imagined it. “Does she call her killer? I don’t know, I don’t know. Why? This is her deal. She’s in charge. And she’s hot. She’s plenty steamed.”
“Have to be gritting down to do that to herself.”
“She thinks how it’s going to play out. How it’s going to make Roarke scramble. Thinks he can brush her off? Well, she’ll show him. Rips the socks apart. Pulls off the tag, balls it up, tosses it and pulls the pair apart. Tosses the spare, floor, dresser. Fills the one with the credits. Checks the weight. Maybe takes a blocker first, gets ahead of the pain.”
Eve strode to the bathroom. “In here. You’d do it in here, in case the pain makes you sick. Don’t want to puke on the floor. Who’s going to clean it up?”
Eve stepped to the sink, looked into the mirror. “Takes a good look. She’s paid good money to keep her face in tune. But that’s all right, that’s okay. There’ll be more. And there’s no way that son of a bitch is going to get away with treating her that way. He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”
Eve brought her fist up hard, right below the chin. Fast enough, violently enough to make Peabody jolt behind her.
“Jeez, I could almost feel it.”
“Saw stars. Pain grinds right down into the gut. Dizzy, half sick. Gotta do the rest, gotta do it while you’ve still got the courage, and the strength.” She mimed the blows, imagined them. Tipped forward, gripped the sink as if for support.
“They got her prints off the sink? Where?”
Peabody pulled out her PCC, called up the file. “Pretty much where your hand is. Good imprints—all four fingers and thumb, left hand.”
“Yeah, cause she’s still holding the sap in her right, had to grab hold to stay upright. Good grip, good prints. Got to bleed a little, from the face.”
She turned, reached out for a washcloth. “Should be two of these. She takes one, holds it to her face, maybe dampens it first. So we get a little of her blood in the sink. But the cloth’s not here when we find her.”
“Killer took it? Why?”
“To keep the illusion she was beaten. Trudy takes the cloth, probably puts some ice in it, just to cool her face. None of her clothes had blood on them, except for the nightgown. Most likely she wore it while she clocked herself. Don’t want to mess up a nice outfit. Besides, she’s going to want to lie down for a while anyway. Sleep off the pain.”
“It still doesn’t make sense.”
“Call up the list of her belongings. Is there a vid cam?”
“Hold on.” Peabody shoved at her hair, then found the file. “No cam, but . . . hey. There’s a disc for one. Unused. It was in her purse.”
“Tourists don’t come to New York without a vid cam. Just like our pal, Larry. And she used recordings before. Sleeps it off, first. Has to have her wits about her when she documents her injuries. Sets the stage, works up some tears, some shakes. Puts the