The In Death Collection Books 6-10 - J. D. Robb [197]
“It was just weird.” The woman was tiny, as delicate as the fairies that danced on the tiny white glass tree centered in the wide window of the old rehabbed loft. “Jacko gets too up about things.”
“I know what I know. That flake was wrong, Cissy.”
Jacko scowled as he tightened his arm around the woman’s shoulder. He’d have made four of her, Eve thought. He had to be six-three and two-fifty. An arena ball player’s build, a face tough as mountain rock. Scars dug in at the lantern jaw and over the right eyebrow.
She was pale as a moonbeam, he dark as midnight. His big hand swallowed hers.
The loft had been sectioned off into three main areas. Eve got a peek at the bedroom suite through the opening in wavy glass walls the color of peaches. The bed was enormous and unmade.
In the living area the long U-shaped sofa could have fit twenty people comfortably. Jacko took up space for three.
What she could see indicated easy money, feminine taste, and masculine comfort.
“Just tell me what happened.”
“We told the policeman last night.” Cissy smiled, but her eyes were shadowed with obvious annoyance. “Jacko insisted on calling them. It was just a silly prank.”
“Hell it was. Look.” He leaned forward, his tight scalp curls bobbing a bit. “This guy comes to the door, dressed like Santa Claus, carrying this big box all wrapped and ribboned. Does the ho-ho, merry Christmas deal.”
Anticipation curled in Eve’s gut, but she spoke coolly. “Who opened the door?”
“I did.” Cissy fluttered her hands. “My daddy lives in Wisconsin. He usually sends me something fun for Christmas if I can’t get out for the holidays. I can’t take the time this year, so I thought he’d arranged for Santa to drop in. I still think—”
“That guy wasn’t from your daddy,” Jacko said dampeningly. “She goes to let him in. I’m in the kitchen. I hear her laughing, and I hear this guy’s voice—”
“Jacko’s much too jealous for his own good. It hurts our relationship.”
“Bullshit, Cissy. You can’t tell a guy’s making you until he’s got his hand up your skirt. Jesus.” Obviously disgusted, Jacko hissed out a breath. “He’s moving in on her when I walk out.”
“Moving in?” Eve repeated while Cissy pouted.
“Yeah, I could see it. He’s moving in, got this big smile, this gleam in his eyes.”
“Twinkle,” Cissy muttered. “Santa’s eyes are supposed to twinkle for Lord’s sake, Jacko.”
“They sure as hell stopped twinkling when he saw me. He went statue, just stood there, gaping at me. Scared the ho-ho right out of him, I tell you. Then he takes off, like a fucking rabbit.”
“You yelled at him.”
“Not until after he started to run.” Jacko threw up his enormous hands in frustration. “Yeah, damn right I yelled then, and I took off after him. Would’ve had his ass, too, if Cissy hadn’t gotten in the way. But by the time I shook her off and got out to the street, he was gone.”
“Did the uniform who took the initial call take the security discs?”
“Yeah, he said it was routine.”
“That’s right. What did he sound like?”
“Sound like?” Cissy blinked.
“His voice. Tell me what his voice was like.”
“Um . . . It was jolly.”
“Jesus, Cissy, do you practice being stupid? It was put on,” Jacko said to Eve while Cissy, obviously insulted, sprang up and flounced—Eve could think of no other word for it—into the kitchen. “You know that fake cheer. Deep, rumbling. He said something like . . . ‘Have you been good little girl? I’ve got something for you. Only for you.’ Then I stepped out and he looked like he’d swallowed a live trout.”
“You didn’t recognize him?” Eve asked Cissy. “There was nothing about him, under the costume, under the makeup, that looked familiar? Nothing about his voice, the way he moved?”
“No.” She walked back in, rigidly ignoring Jacko and sipping from a glass filled with fizzy water. “But it was only a couple of minutes.”
“I’m going to have you review the discs, take a look at them when we enlarge and enhance. If there’s anything familiar, I want to know.”
“Isn’t this a lot of trouble for something so silly?