The In Death Collection Books 21-25 - J. D. Robb [684]
“Is that all? I mean, did I do anything?”
“Do?” he said absently.
“Did I do something to upset you, or make you mad at me?”
“Not at all.” He turned, smiled kindly as the narrow flame hissed.
“It’s just, Mr. Gaines, I know you’re going to hurt me. I can’t stop you. But can you tell me why? I just want to understand why you’re going to hurt me.”
“Isn’t this interesting?” He cocked his head and studied her. “She asks, always she asks why. But she screams it. She doesn’t ever ask so politely.”
“She only wants to understand.”
“Well. Well, well, well.” He turned the torch off, and Ariel’s chest heaved with relief. “This is different. I enjoy variety. She was lovely, you know.”
“Was she?” Ariel moistened her lips as he pulled up a stool and sat so he could speak face-to-face. How could he look so ordinary? she wondered. How could he look so nice, and be so vicious?
“You’re very pretty, but she was almost exquisite. And when she sang, she was glorious.”
“What…what did she sing?”
“Soprano. She had a multiple voice.”
“I…I don’t know what that means.”
“Her brilliance was so bright. She was allegra—those high, clear notes seeming to simply lift out of her. And the color, the texture of lirica with the intensity and depth of the drammatica. Her range…”
Moisture sheened his eyes as he pressed his fingers to his lips, kissed the tips. “I could, and did, listen to her for hours. She would accompany herself on the piano when at home. She tried to teach me, but…” He smiled wistfully as he held up his hands. “I had no talent for music, only a vast appreciation for it.”
If he was talking he wasn’t hurting her, Ariel thought. She had to keep him talking. “Is it opera? I don’t know anything about opera.”
“You think it’s stuffy, boring, old-fashioned.”
“I think it’s beautiful,” she said carefully. “I’ve just never really listened to it before. She sang opera?” Questions, Ariel thought desperately. Ask questions so he’ll spend time answering. “And—and was a soprano? With, um, multiple voice like—like ranges?”
“Indeed, yes, indeed, that’s very good. I have many of her recordings. I don’t play them here.” He glanced around the room. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“I’d love to hear her sing. I’d love to hear her multiple voice.”
“Would you?” His eyes turned sly. “Aren’t you clever? She was clever, too.” He rose now, picked up the torch.
“Wait! Wait! Couldn’t I hear her sing? Maybe I’d understand if I could hear her sing? Who was she? Who was—Oh, God, God, please!” She tried to shrink away from the tip of the flame he traced, almost teasingly, along her arm.
“We’ll have to chat later. We really must get to work.”
Eve went directly to Feeney when she reached Central. “Female brunettes between the ages of twenty-eight and thirty-three who died on this date in New York. We need names, last known addresses, cause of death.”
“Records around that time are sketchy,” he told her. “A lot of deaths went unrecorded, a lot of people were unidentified, or misidentified.”
“Dig. She’s what’s going to open locks on this. I’m going to check with Yancy, see if he’s got any sort of an image on the wallet photo.”
To give Yancy more time, she went first to Whitney and asked for more men to form a stakeout team at the Met.
“Done. I need you for a media briefing at noon.”
“Commander—”
“If you think I don’t know how pressed and pressured you are, you’re mistaken.” And he looked just as irritated as she did. “Thirty minutes. I’ll cut it off at thirty, but unless you’re on your way to arrest this son of a bitch, I need you there. We have to hold back the flood.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Confirm the new and salient you fed Nadine this morning, and the twenty-four-hour shifts. I want you to express confidence that Ariel Greenfeld will be found alive.”
“I will, Commander. I believe she will be.”
“Let them see you do. Dismissed. Oh, Lieutenant, if I learn you’ve stepped foot outside this building without your vest or your wires, I’ll skin you. Personally.”
“Understood.”
It was a little annoying to realize he’d sensed she was considering