Dark in Death (In Death 46)

hasn’t worked there in almost a year. She quit, Jill says. Handed in her notice and split.”

“Didn’t update her data. Is your friend still on your ’link?”

“I’ve got her holding, sir.”

Eve walked over, took the ’link, flipped off the hold. “This is Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Oh, okay.” The big-eyed blonde managed a nervous smile.

“Did you know Smith? A. E. Smith?”

“Ann? Sure. Well, I didn’t know-know her. We didn’t, like, hang or anything, but I used her a lot when she worked here. For fittings and alterations. She was top-notch, you know? And fast, too. A lot of my regulars requested her.”

“How did she get along there?”

“Um … She was really good at her job. I guess she wasn’t so good with actual people. Not rude, like, just … Really shy maybe? She never had anything to say.”

“No friends?”

“Around here? I guess not. Ah, Mo said I wasn’t supposed to blab. I’ve got the lock down.”

“That doesn’t apply to me.”

Shelby leaned into the screen. “Spill to the lieutenant.”

“Okay then. She was weird. Not just quiet and shy, but weird. Wouldn’t look you in the eye, mumbled, spent her breaks huddled up with her PPC—that’s if she took a break. Mostly she worked through. We’re friendly around here, right? She just wasn’t. And Dobb’s throws a primo holiday party. She didn’t even come when she was here. I guess she sort of creeped me. But she was really good at her job.”

“You haven’t seen her since she quit?”

“No. I’m pretty sure some of my regulars use her, on the side.”

“Okay, appreciate it. Put the lock back on.”

“Could I … Before I do that, can I ask if she did something whacked? You know how you hear people say, ‘Oh she was so quiet, kept to herself,’ and how they never thought they’d do something whacked? Well, Ann was quiet and kept to herself—mega—but I wouldn’t be surprised if she did something whacked.”

“Shelby will let you know about that when our lock’s off.”

Eve handed the ’link back to Shelby, made a wind-it-up signal with her finger.

“Gotta go, Jill. I’ll get back to you.”

“Peabody, patch in the others.”

Eve lined up the steps in her head, got the nod from Peabody.

“The suspect is Ann Elizabeth Smith, aka A. E. Strongbow. She has, we believe, killed three people. Rosie Kent,” Eve continued, gesturing to the board, “Chanel Rylan, and Loxie Flash. Each victim was chosen, each murder constructed, to correspond with a novel written by Blaine DeLano.”

She ran through the outline of the victims, murders, motives, and Smith’s obsession with DeLano and the series.

“So not only does the whacked,” Callendar said, “she is the whacked.”

“Legally whacked is for the courts and shrinks to say. But she’s not the shy, quiet, harmless woman she appears to be. She’s both dangerous and cunning. We won’t underestimate her. Santiago? Any sign she’s in residence?”

“Privacy screens are down, LT. We haven’t sighted her going in or coming out.”

“Our e-person will determine when we get there. If she’s not in residence, we wait until she comes home. Peabody and me inside, Santiago and Detective Carmichael in the vehicle with Callendar, uniforms out of sight at the rear of the building, moving in on my signal. If she’s in residence, I want the uniforms on the rear, cutting off any attempt to exit. Detectives enter with me and Peabody, holding on the first floor to cut off that route. Callendar with us. You’ll knock, get her to open up. She doesn’t know your face, and she’s not going to think ‘cop’ seeing you.”

“Hey!”