Missing in Death (4 page)

“Hypnosis?”

“I’m not ruling it out.” She leaned back against the rail, looked up at the twin smokestacks. “They’re not real. They’re show. Just to keep the ferry looking old-timey. Big. Way big enough for somebody to hide a body and an unconscious woman.”

“Sure, if he had sparkly fairy wings and an invisibility shield.”

Eve had to laugh. “Point. Regardless, let’s make sure they get checked out.” She turned when Jake walked toward them.

“We let the last of the passengers through the ticker. Two short. We’ve accounted for everyone, passengers, crew, concession. Two people who got on didn’t get off.”

“They just got off before we made port,” Eve corrected. “This ferry is out of service until further notice. It’s sealed by order of the NYPSD. Guards on twenty-f our/ seven. Crime Scene hasn’t finished, and will continue until they’ve covered every inch, including those,” she added, pointing at the smokestacks.

Jake lifted his gaze to follow the gesture. “Well. That should be fun.”

“Something this size, with this layout? There are places to hide, to conceal. He had to know the boat, the layout, at least to some extent.”

“Having a place to hide doesn’t explain getting out of that bathroom without anyone seeing him. Unless he has the cloak of invisibility.”

Jake’s remark got a quick laugh from Peabody and a cool stare from Eve.

“We work the wit and the evidence. We’ll be in touch, Inspector.”

“You’re leaving?”

“We’ll be following up with the security discs, Carolee Grogan, and the lab. The sooner we identify the victim, if a victim there is, the sooner we can move on the killer. You may want some of your men backing up mine on guard duty. I don’t want anyone on that ferry without authorization.”

“All right.”

“Let’s move, Peabody.”

“Ah, Detective? Should your situation change . . .”

Peabody felt the heat rise to her cheeks again. “It isn’t likely to, but thanks.” She scrambled to keep up with Eve’s long strides. “He hit on me again.”

“I’ll mark it down, first chance.”

“It’s markable,” Peabody mumbled. “Really.” She risked a look over her shoulder before they boarded the turbo. “I figured we’d be staying, going over the boat again.”

“We have enough people on that.” Eve braced herself as the turbo shot across the water. “Here’s a question—or a few. Why kill in a public restroom on a ferry in the middle of the water? No easy way off. Why not leave the body? Why, if interrupted by a bystander, spare that bystander’s life? And go to the trouble, apparently, to secret her away for an hour?”

“Okay, but even if we find the answer to any of the whys, we don’t answer the hows.”

“Next column. How was the victim selected? How was the method of killing selected? How was Carolee Grogan moved from the crime scene to another location? And straddling columns, why doesn’t she remember? How was the body—if there was one—removed? All of it comes back to one question. Who was the victim? That’s the center. The rest rays out from there.”

“The victim’s probably female. Or the killer. One of them, at least, is probably female. It makes more sense, given the location of the murder.”

“Agreed, and the computer agrees. I ran probability. Mid-eighties for female vic or killer.” She pulled out her ’link when it signaled, saw Roarke’s personal code on the readout. “Hey.”

“Hey back.” His face—that fallen-angel beauty—filled the screen as dark brows lifted over bold blue eyes. “You’re out in the harbor? The ferry incident?”

“Shit. How much has leaked?”

“Not a great deal. Certainly nothing that speaks of murder.” His voice, Irish whispering through, cruised over the words as she rocketed back toward Manhattan. “Who’s dead, then?”

“That’s a question. I’m hoping the lab can tell me. I’m heading there, and depending on the answer, I might be late getting home.”

“As it happens I’m downtown, and was hoping to ask my wife out to dinner. Why don’t I meet you at the lab, then depending on the answer you get, we’ll go from there?”

She couldn’t think of a reason against it, and in fact, calculated the opportunity to run it all by him. A fresh perspective might give her some new angles. “Okay. It’ll be handy to have you right there if I have to bribe Dickhead to push on the ID.”

“Always happy to bribe local officials. I’ll see you soon.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Peabody asked when Eve stuck her ’link back in her pocket. “Having a guy.”

Eve started to shrug it off, then decided the turbo pilot couldn’t hear them. Besides, there was no reason not to take a few minutes for nonsense. “It doesn’t suck.”

“It really doesn’t. Having a really cute guy like Jake flirt with me has some frost, but knowing I’m going to be snuggled up with McNab tonight? That’s the ice.”

“Why do you always have to put you and McNab and sex in my head? It brings pain no blocker can cure.”

“Snuggling isn’t sex. It’s before or after sex. I especially like the after-sex snuggle when you’re all warm and loose like a couple of sleepy puppies.” She cocked her head. “I’m getting horny.”

“So glad you shared that with me. Let’s try to get this pesky investigation out of the way so you can go get your puppy snuggles.”

“You know, I’ve got this new outfit I’ve been saving for a night when—”

“Do not go there. Do not,” Eve warned. “I swear by all that’s holy, I’ll chuck you overboard, then order the turbo to run over you while you sputter in the water.”

“Harsh. Anyway, maybe that’s what the killers did, just chucked the victim in the water, then jumped in after the body wearing SCUBA gear.”

“If he was going to chuck the body in, why move it in the first place? He didn’t just want the kill, he wanted the body.”

“Ewww. I know, a police detective’s not supposed to say ‘ewww.’ But why would he want the body?”

“A trophy.” Eve narrowed her eyes.

“I’m not saying ‘ewww.’ ”

“You’re thinking it. Proof,” she added, “which strikes me as more likely than trophy. A body’s unassailable proof of death. Which, at this point, we don’t have. He does. Which brings us to another why. Why would he need proof?”

“Payment?” At Eve’s nod, Peabody lifted her hands. “But for a hit, it was messy and complicated. It doesn’t smell like a pro.”

“No, it doesn’t. Unless you add in the rest. Missing body, public arena, two people vanishing like smoke. That strikes me as very professional.”

It kept her mind occupied on the drive to the lab. And at least she was navigating on solid ground instead of water. New York appeared to have burst open for summer, and out of its nooks and crannies poured tourists and the street thieves who depended on them. Glida carts did brisk business with cold drinks and ice pops, while portable knock-off vendors raked it in with cheap souvenirs, wrist units that might function until the buyer got back to his hotel, colorful “silk” scarves, fashion shades and handbags that could be mistaken for their designer counterparts if you were a half block away and had one eye closed.

But it also brought out the sidewalk florists with their bounty of color and scent and the alfresco diners taking in the sun over glasses of wine or thimbles of espresso.

It added to the street and air traffic, jammed the glides and sidewalks, and yet, Eve thought, it all rushed and roared exactly as it was meant to.

She spotted Roarke before she parked, standing outside the drab edifice that housed the busy hive of the lab and forensics. The dark charcoal suit fit the lean length of him perfectly, and showed a subtle flare with a tie nearly as bold a blue as his eyes.

Black hair fell in a mane around that striking face, shades shielded those stunning eyes as he slipped the PPC he’d been working on into a pocket and started toward her.

She thought he looked like some elegantly urban vid star with just a hit of edge. And she supposed it suited him as one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the world—and on its satellites—who’d pulled himself by hook or—haha—crook out of the grime of the Dublin alleyways.

“Check on Carolee,” she told Peabody. “See if they’ve finished the medical, have any results.”

She watched Roarke’s lips curve as they walked toward each other. She didn’t need to see his eyes to know they mirrored that smile. And her heart gave a quick, giddy jump. She had to admit Peabody was right. It was nice to have a guy.

“Lieutenant.” He took her hand and, though she lowered her eyebrows to discourage him, bent to brush those curved lips lightly over hers. “Hello, Peabody. You look fetchingly windblown.”

“Yeah.” She brushed ineffectually at her hair. “Boat ride.”

“So I hear.”

“Check on the wit, Peabody,” Eve repeated as she led the way inside.

“What was witnessed?” Roarke wondered.

“Tell me what the media’s saying. I haven’t bothered to tune in.”

“I caught bits and pieces on my way downtown to my meeting, then a bit more after. A woman apparently lost on the ferry, then found. Or not, depending on the report. A possibility someone was injured or fell overboard.”

He continued as Eve led them through the maze, signed and badged them through security.

“The main thrust seems to be that DOT and NYPSD officials held up the ferry for over two hours, then additional time with a security search of passengers as they disembarked. A few of the passengers sent various media outlets some vids or statements. So, you can imagine, it’s all over the board.”

“Fine.” Eve opted for a down glide rather than an elevator. “Better that way.”

“Is someone missing? Or dead?”

“Someone was missing, but now she’s not. Someone might be dead, but there’s no body. Passenger count is off by two on disembarking.”

“Which might equal victim and killer. How’d they get off the ferry?”

“That’s another question.” She stepped off the glide. “First, I’ve got a couple quarts of blood in a public restroom on the ferry. I need to find out who it belonged to.”

Five

She wound through the labyrinth bisected by glass walls. Behind them techs worked with scopes and holos, forensic droids, tiny vials and mysterious solutions.

The air hummed in a blend of machine and human into a single voice Eve found just slightly creepy. She would never understand how people worked, day after day, in a vast space without a single window.

She found the chief lab tech, Dick Berenski, sliding his stool soundlessly along his long white counter as he commanded various comps. Dickhead was an irritant, a pebble in the shoe on a personal level, but she couldn’t deny his almost preternatural skill with evidence.

He looked up, cocking his egg-shaped head as she approached, and she didn’t miss the light in his eyes when he recognized Roarke.

“Got yourself an entourage today, Dallas.”

“Don’t think about trying to hit up the civilian for liquor, tickets to sporting events or cash.”

“Hey.” Dickhead couldn’t quite pull off offended.

“Let’s talk blood.”

“Got enough of it. I got the initial sample a couple hours ago, and they’re bringing in the rest. We’ll run tests on samples of that, too. Could be more than one source. Got my blood guy reconstructing the scene, pool and spatter, from the record. That’s a fucking beaucoup of blood.”

“Fresh or frozen?”

He honked out a little laugh. “Fresh.” He tapped some keys and had squiggles and swirls in bold reds, yellows, blues, filling a comp screen. “No indication the sample had been stored, cold-boxed, flash-f rozen, thawed or rehydrated.”

He tapped again, brought up another screen of shapes and colors. “Coagulation rate and temp says it hit the air about two hours—maybe a little more—before I tested it. That’s consistent with the time it took to get here.”

“Concluding the sample came out of a live human, and came out of said human between one and two this afternoon.”

“What I said. A Neg, human blood, healthy platelets, cholesterol, no STD. We filtered out trace portions of other body fluid and flesh. Double X chromosomes.”

“Female.”

“You bet. We’ll keep separating other body fluids when we have the larger samples, and the sweepers tell me they’ve got some hair in there. We’ll be able to tell you pretty much everything. Fluids, flesh and hair.” He grinned widely. “I could freaking rebuild her with samples like that.”

“Nice thought. DNA.”

“I’m running it through. Takes some time, and there’s no guarantee she’s on the grid. Might get a relative. I programmed for full match and blood relations.”

Thorough, Eve thought. When Dickhead got his weird little teeth into something, he was thorough. “There were fibers.”

“Like I said, we’ll separate and filter. I’ll give hair and fiber to Harpo. She’s the queen. But I can’t pull the vic’s ID out of my ass. She’s either on the grid or—Hey!” He swiveled, scooted as the far comp beeped. “Son of a bitch, we got a match. I am so freaking good.”

Eve came around the counter to study the ID photo and data herself. “Copy to my unit,” she ordered. “And I want a printout. Dana Buckley, age forty-one, born in Sioux City, why are you dead?”

“Nice-looking skirt,” Berenski commented, and Eve ignored him.

Blue-eyed blonde, she thought, pale skin, pretty in a corn-fed sort of way. Five-six, a hundred thirty-eight, parents deceased, no sibs, no offspring, no marriage or cohab on record. “Current employment, freelance consultant. What does this personal data tell us smart investigators, Detective?”

“That the deceased has no family ties, no employer to verify identification or give further data on said deceased. Which makes a smart investigator go hmmm.”

“It does indeed. She lists a home and office address here in New York. Park Avenue. Peabody, run this down.”

“It’s the Waldorf,” Roarke said from behind her.

“As in Astoria?” Eve glanced back, caught his nod, and the look in his eyes when they met hers.

She thought, Crap, but said nothing. Not yet.

“Check and see if they have her registered,” she told Peabody. “And get a copy of the ID print, show it to the desk staff to see if they make her. Quick work, Berenski.”

“After quick work, I like to relax with a good bottle or two of wine.”