Haunted in Death (In Death 22.50)

He scooted on his stool, and tapped his long, skinny fingers over a comp screen. He continued to grin out of his strangely egg-shaped head.

"Got my bone guy working with Morris with me running the show. You got yourself a female, between the age of twenty and twenty-five. Bobbie Bray was twenty twenty-three when she poofed. Caucasian, five-foot-five, about a hundred and fifteen pounds, same height and weight on Bobbie’s ID at the time of her disappearance. Broken tibia, about the age of twelve. Healed well. Gonna wanna see if we can access any medical records on Bobbie to match the bone break. Got my forensic sculptor working on the face. Bobbie Bray, son of a bitch."

"Another fan."

"Shit yeah. That skirt was hot. Got your cause of death, single gunshot wound to the forehead. Spent bullet retrieved from inside the skull matches the caliber used on your other vic. Ballistics confirms both were fired from the weapon recovered from the scene. Same gun used, about eighty-five years apart. It’s beautiful."

"I bet the killer thinks so, too."

Sarcasm flew over Dickhead like a puffy white cloud in a sunny blue sky. "Weapon was cleaned and oiled. Really shined it up. But…"

He grinned again, tapped again. "What you’re looking at here is dust. Brick dust, drywall dust. Samples the sweepers took from the secondary crime scene. And here? Traces of dust found inside the weapon. Perfect match."

"Indicating that the gun was bricked up with the body."

"Guess Bobbie got tired of haunting the place and decided to take a more active role."

And that, Eve determined, didn’t warrant even sarcasm as a response. "Shoot the reports to my home and office units, copy to Peabody’s. Your sculptor gets an image, I want to see it."

She headed out again, pulling out her ‘link as it beeped. "Dallas."

"Arrest any ghosts lately?"

"No. And I’m not planning on it. Why aren’t you in a meeting about world domination?"

"Just stepped out," Roarke told her. "My curiosity’s been nipping at me all day. Any leads?"

"Leads might be a strong word. I have avenues. I’m heading to one now. The vic was selling off his stuff - antique popular culture stuff, I gather - to some place uptown. I’m going to check it out."

"What’s the address?"

"Why?"

"I’ll meet you. I’ll be your expert consultant on antiques and popular culture. You can pay my fee with food and sex."

"It’s going to be pizza, and I think I’ve got a long line to credit on the sex."

But she gave him the address.

After ending the transmission, she called the collectibles shop to tell the proprietor to stay open and available. On a hunch, she asked if they carried any Bobbie Bray memorabilia.

And was assured they had the most extensive collection in the city.

Interesting.

Four

He beat her there, and was being served coffee and fawning attention by a young, elegant redhead in a slick black suit.

Eve couldn’t blame the woman. Roarke was ridiculously handsome, and could, if it served him, ooze charm like pheromones. It seemed to suit him now as he had the redhead flushed and fluttering as she offered cookies with the coffee.

Eve figured she’d benefit from Roarke’s charisma herself. She hardly ever got cookies on the job.

"Ah, here’s the lieutenant now. Lieutenant Dallas, this is Maeve Buchanan, our hostess, and the daughter of the proprietor."

"Is the proprietor here?"

"My wife. Straight to business. Coffee, darling?"