Echoes in Death (In Death 44)

“Did they get anything from his voice?”

“Smooth, sophisticated, public school Brit accent. But he dropped the accent a couple of times when he raped Rosa, and Neville—who is public school Brit—said it was fake. They think he was a white guy, but neither are sure. His face was covered in makeup and a kind of mask—very theatrical, both claim, very authentic.”

“More than his face was exposed during the rape,” Eve pointed out.

“Exactly. He wore a black condom, covered the shaft, and his balls were white—painted white—stark white. He never took off his clothes or cape. Long black hair—they couldn’t tell if it was a wig or real. Black eyes. Rosa thinks they were contacts, but that’s not a hundred percent. We believe he had experience with theater or costuming, and has above average e-skills. And we’ve gotten nowhere.”

Olsen paused, drank some coffee. “Okay. The second incident, last November. In this case, the couple—Ira and Lori Brinkman—return home after a long holiday—Thanksgiving—annual weekend in the Hamptons. The house droid takes their bags upstairs, doesn’t come back. Ira goes upstairs, finds the droid disabled, and is assaulted from behind. He wakes up restrained to a chair, and his wife has a black eye and our assailant has a knife to her throat. He’s outfitted as a kind of ghoul this time—gray face, cadaverous cheekbones, gray eyes, wearing an old-fashioned black suit. He tells Lori to strip or he’ll gut Ira. When she does, he drags her to the bed, smacks her around, rapes her, chokes her.

“The assailant leaves her on the bed,” Olsen continued, “takes some time to beat the crap out of Ira, then he goes back, rapes Lori again, tells her to scream ‘You’re the best I’ve ever had,’ and when she doesn’t, he cuts her until she does.”

After a short breath, Olsen drank more coffee. “They have two safes, one in their dressing room, one in their library. The assailant demands the combinations, knocks them both around some more, leaves them alone. Ira is barely conscious, going in and out. Lori is in shock. The assailant comes back, gives her round three, this time telling her, repeatedly, it’s the best she’s ever had or he knows she wants it. He also watches Ira as he rapes Lori. When he’s done, he strikes Ira on the back of the head with the sap. Lori doesn’t remember if he hit her again, she’s hazy, doesn’t remember when he cut her loose. She called nine-one-one, couldn’t give them any real information. Just ‘Help us.’ She thought Ira was dead. The responding officers found her curled up in Ira’s lap, him still unconscious. The assault took two hours and about twenty minutes.”

“What did he take?”

“Safe contents, some expensive bric-a-brac, a small painting, a bottle of high-end brandy and one of Lori’s cocktail dresses, with shoes and bag.”

“Voice?”

“Gravelly, hollow, deep-throated. He messed the second couple up more than the first, multiple rapes on the female on the second assault, used the knife—what they both believe was a medical scalpel—on both of them. Just shallow cuts and slices, but it’s an escalation. We found no crossover between the victims.”

Olsen rubbed her eyes. “Sorry, forgot. He had sound effects going. Howling wolves for Dracula, rattling chains for the ghoul. Lori and Ira say he did something to the lights. They’re hazy about it, understandably, but they both said the lights were gray and dim, and there was a strobe light.”

“To go with the costumes,” Eve said. “The theme of each attack.”

“That’s how we see it. The first couple, Upper West—he’s one of the owners of On Screen Productions—has his offices in their New York base. We looked at that—the costume, theater—but got nothing. Rosa’s a, well, professional committee person, you could say. Society girl, does good works and shops a lot. Second couple, he’s in international finance, she’s a human rights attorney. And I want to add all of them are nice people. We didn’t find any cheating or whoring or illegals or dastardly deeds among them. Rosa’s twenty-six, Neville’s thirty. Ira’s forty-four, Lori, forty-two. Rosa’s Hispanic, Neville’s Brit, Ira’s Jewish, Lori’s mixed race. Both women are stunners, Lieutenant, so that may play. Both are often featured in society media. Neville’s in entertainment media, Ira’s in financials. Rosa’s into charity work, Lori’s human rights, but she’s done some script doctoring, some screen writing under other names. But they didn’t have any mutual friends, didn’t use the same vendors, doctors, gyms, housekeeping services, and so on. Nothing taken from the residences has shown up on the street.”

Olsen shoved her cup aside. “And now he’s killed someone.”

Eve sat back. Even if Baxter hadn’t verified Olsen as solid, Eve would have judged her the same. “Our surviving vic can’t give us many details yet. She describes a devil.”

“Vampire, ghoul, devil. I sense a theme.”

“Follows,” Eve agreed. “The basic MOs are the same. Slick break-in, waiting for the couple in the bedroom, the fists, the knife, the sap, the restraints. Escalation in violence, and a narrowing of his downtime. Our crime scene reads the male victim broke the chair, tried to attack, and the assailant downed him with a heavy crystal vase. Then there’s a time gap—Morris,” Eve said to Peabody. “About fifteen minutes before the two killing blows. That’s something to think about. He cleaned out three safes. Other than that, we can’t confirm what else he took, including potentially a cocktail dress with accessories—until the survivor is able to tell us. Dr. Mira is going to see her today.”

“Nobody better,” Olsen said. “Any way I can talk to her?”

“I’m going to say no at this time. Not because you don’t have a stake in this, and I intend to read you in as our case progresses, but she’s in bad shape, emotionally. I don’t want to add another face, another questioner.”

“I get that. I want to say, if and when, Stan and I know how to approach a victim of rape.”

“Understood, and I’ll have Mira copy you and your partner on her reports. I’ll give you what I’ve got, and expect the same.”

“You’ll have it.”

“To begin, there’s a variation. These vics were having a dinner party for fifty when, we believe, he entered the house.”

Olsen puffed out her cheeks. “Christ, he’s getting bold.”

“The rest follows the basic pattern—up until the murder. We’ve got some people to talk to. We get anything, we’ll pass it on. I’m going to check your files—you do the same—for Jacko’s Catering and Loan Star Rentals. The last vics used both for this party, and have used them in the past. The caterer’s coming up clean, but it could be a connection.”

“I’ll get on that. My take, if you want it?”

“I do.”

“He’s a coward, but a lot of rapists are. And a sadist, and he likes drama. You’ve got to figure he’s punishing them both. He wants the husband to suffer, wants him to feel impotent. Maybe daddy issues, who knows. I’ve got Mira’s profile—we went to her after the second one clicked in. It’s in the file.”

Olsen got to her feet. “Any help we can give, it’s yours. We can clear it with our LT.” She hesitated. “You’ve got a rep—both of you,” she said with a glance at Peabody. “And that’s rock solid. But I still asked Baxter for his take. He’s not a bullshitter when it matters.”