Read Online In Death 07 - Holiday in Death by authors_sort - Free Book Online Page B
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are being delivered tomorrow."
"Trees?"
"Yes. We'll have a formal one in the parlor, several in the ballroom upstairs. But I thought we'd have a smaller, more personal one in our bedroom. We'll decorate that one ourselves."
Her brows shot high. "You want to decorate a tree?"
"I do."
"I don't know the first thing about it. I've never decorated a Christmas tree before."
"Neither have I, or not in years. It'll be our first."
The warmth that moved through her now had nothing to do with a hot meal or vintage wine. Her lips curved. "We'll probably make a mess of it."
He took the hand she held out to him. "No doubt. Feeling better?"
"A lot, yeah."
"Do you want to tell me about tonight?"
Her fingers tightened on his. "Yeah, I do." She released his hand and rose because she would think more clearly on the move.
"He got another one," she began. "Same MO. Outside security cameras tagged him. The Santa suit, the big silver box with the fussy bow. He left her a pin, two birds in a circle."
"Turtledoves."
"Right -- or close enough. I don't know what a damn turtledove looks like. No sign of forced entry, no sign of struggle. I imagine the tox report will show she was tranq'd. She'd been restrained, probably gagged as the unit wasn't soundproofed. There were some fibers on her tongue and in her mouth, but he didn't leave whatever he gagged her with behind."
"Sexually assaulted?"
"Yes, same as the first. There was a fresh temp tattoo on her right breast. My True Love. And he'd wrapped her up in red garland, painted her face, brushed her hair. The bathroom was the cleanest place in the apartment. I'm guessing he scrubbed it down himself after he was done cleaning himself up. She'd only been dead an hour by the time I got there. The anonymous call came in from a pay slot a half a block from her house."
He could see the frustration working back into her. Rising, he took her glass and his own. "Who was she?"
"A stripper, lap dancer, worked at the Sweet Spot -- an upscale club on the West Side."
"Yes, I know where it is." When she turned, eyes narrowed, he handed her the wine. "And yes, it happens to be one of my properties."
"I really hate when that happens." When he only grinned at her, she blew out a breath. "Anyway, she had the afternoon shift, got off just before five. From what we can tell, she went straight home -- she ran a scan on her AutoChef at six, just about the time the outside camera picked up this bastard going into the building."
Eve stared into her wine. "I'd say she missed dinner, too."
"He's working quickly."
"And having a jolly old time with it. Looks to me like he wants to make his quota by New Year's. I need to run her 'link, her finances, her personal records. I've got to check out the pin. I'm getting nowhere with the Santa suit or the garland. How the hell do I connect a sweet administrative assistant to a lap dancer?"
"I know that tone." With that he turned and moved to his console. "Let's see what we can do."
"I didn't say anything about you running scans."
He flicked a glance in her direction. "It was implied. What was her name?"
"It was not implied. Sarabeth -- one word, no h -- Greenbalm." She walked over to stand with him behind the console. "I was simply running through my thoughts out loud. The address is 23B West One Hundred and Twelve."
"Got it. What do you want first?"
"I can run her 'link in the morning. Go with either personal or financial."
"Financial would take you longer, let's start with that."
"No showing off," Eve warned, then laughed when he snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her against his side.
"Of course I'm going to show off. Subject, Sarabeth Greenbalm," he began, then nuzzled at Eve's throat. "Residing West One Hundred and Twelve." His hand slid up to cup her breast. "All financial records, latest transactions first."
Working...
"Now," he murmured, and turned Eve until their bodies meshed. "I should just have enough time to..." His mouth swooped down,
"Trees?"
"Yes. We'll have a formal one in the parlor, several in the ballroom upstairs. But I thought we'd have a smaller, more personal one in our bedroom. We'll decorate that one ourselves."
Her brows shot high. "You want to decorate a tree?"
"I do."
"I don't know the first thing about it. I've never decorated a Christmas tree before."
"Neither have I, or not in years. It'll be our first."
The warmth that moved through her now had nothing to do with a hot meal or vintage wine. Her lips curved. "We'll probably make a mess of it."
He took the hand she held out to him. "No doubt. Feeling better?"
"A lot, yeah."
"Do you want to tell me about tonight?"
Her fingers tightened on his. "Yeah, I do." She released his hand and rose because she would think more clearly on the move.
"He got another one," she began. "Same MO. Outside security cameras tagged him. The Santa suit, the big silver box with the fussy bow. He left her a pin, two birds in a circle."
"Turtledoves."
"Right -- or close enough. I don't know what a damn turtledove looks like. No sign of forced entry, no sign of struggle. I imagine the tox report will show she was tranq'd. She'd been restrained, probably gagged as the unit wasn't soundproofed. There were some fibers on her tongue and in her mouth, but he didn't leave whatever he gagged her with behind."
"Sexually assaulted?"
"Yes, same as the first. There was a fresh temp tattoo on her right breast. My True Love. And he'd wrapped her up in red garland, painted her face, brushed her hair. The bathroom was the cleanest place in the apartment. I'm guessing he scrubbed it down himself after he was done cleaning himself up. She'd only been dead an hour by the time I got there. The anonymous call came in from a pay slot a half a block from her house."
He could see the frustration working back into her. Rising, he took her glass and his own. "Who was she?"
"A stripper, lap dancer, worked at the Sweet Spot -- an upscale club on the West Side."
"Yes, I know where it is." When she turned, eyes narrowed, he handed her the wine. "And yes, it happens to be one of my properties."
"I really hate when that happens." When he only grinned at her, she blew out a breath. "Anyway, she had the afternoon shift, got off just before five. From what we can tell, she went straight home -- she ran a scan on her AutoChef at six, just about the time the outside camera picked up this bastard going into the building."
Eve stared into her wine. "I'd say she missed dinner, too."
"He's working quickly."
"And having a jolly old time with it. Looks to me like he wants to make his quota by New Year's. I need to run her 'link, her finances, her personal records. I've got to check out the pin. I'm getting nowhere with the Santa suit or the garland. How the hell do I connect a sweet administrative assistant to a lap dancer?"
"I know that tone." With that he turned and moved to his console. "Let's see what we can do."
"I didn't say anything about you running scans."
He flicked a glance in her direction. "It was implied. What was her name?"
"It was not implied. Sarabeth -- one word, no h -- Greenbalm." She walked over to stand with him behind the console. "I was simply running through my thoughts out loud. The address is 23B West One Hundred and Twelve."
"Got it. What do you want first?"
"I can run her 'link in the morning. Go with either personal or financial."
"Financial would take you longer, let's start with that."
"No showing off," Eve warned, then laughed when he snaked a hand around her waist and pulled her against his side.
"Of course I'm going to show off. Subject, Sarabeth Greenbalm," he began, then nuzzled at Eve's throat. "Residing West One Hundred and Twelve." His hand slid up to cup her breast. "All financial records, latest transactions first."
Working...
"Now," he murmured, and turned Eve until their bodies meshed. "I should just have enough time to..." His mouth swooped down,
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