Visions in Death (In Death 19) - Page 51
“They represent somebody: mother, sister, lover, a woman who rejected him, refused him, abused him. Dominant female figure.”
Why, she wondered, did the twisted tree of a murderer so often go back to the mother root? Did the gestation and birthing process come with the power to nurture or destroy?
“When we get him,” Eve continued, “it’s going to come out that she—this symbol—knocked him around or boo-hoo broke his heart or made him feel weak and helpless. So his defense lawyers will come along saying: Oh, he was damaged, poor sick son of a bitch. He’s not responsible. And that’s a pile of shit, that’s a big, smelly pile of bullshit. Because nobody’s responsible for choking the life out of Elisa Maplewood but him. Nobody.”
Peabody let the rant run, waited until she was sure it was over. “Preaching to the choir.”
Eve drew it back in. “Yeah. Where the hell is Nadine? She doesn’t show in five, we cancel. We need to follow up on Merriweather.”
“We’re a couple minutes early.”
“I guess we are.” Eve sat on the grass, drew her knees up, and studied the castle. “You ever skip around parks when you were a kid?”
“Sure.” Glad the storm had passed, Peabody sat beside her. “Free-Agers, you know. I was a regular nature girl. You?”
“No. Couple of stints in what you could call summer camp.” Run by state-hired Nazis, Eve thought, who regulated every breath. “This one’s not so bad. You know it’s still in the city, so it’s okay.”
“Not looking to make nature girl?”
“Nature’ll kill you, just for the hell of it.”
Eve glanced over and watched Nadine and her camera operator crossing to them. “Why would she wear those skinny heels when she knew she’d be hiking over grass?”
“Because they’re jazzed, and make her legs look mag.”
Eve supposed everything about Nadine looked mag, from her sweep of streaky blonde hair to the toes of her jazzed shoes. She had a foxy, angular face, observant green eyes, and a slim body that curved appropriately in her on-camera suit of power red.
She was smart, she was sneaky, she was cynical.
And for reasons Eve imagined neither of them fully understood, they’d become friends.
“Dallas. Peabody. Don’t you two look relaxed and pastoral. Why don’t you set up there?” She gestured to the camera. “I want the castle in the background. You got any real juice,” she said to Eve, “I can take this live.”
“No. And we’re keeping it short. We could even say pithy.”
“Pithy it is.” Nadine took out a small compact to check her face, lifted a paper-thin sponge and dabbed her nose. “Who’s leading off?”
“She is.” Eve jerked a thumb at Peabody.
“I am?”
“Let’s get to it.” Nadine nodded to the camera, angled her body. Gave her shoulders a roll, her hair a little shake. And her easy smile turned into a cool, serious look.
“This is Nadine Furst, in Central Park with Lieutenant Eve Dallas and Detective Delia Peabody of the New York City Police and Security Department, Homicide Division. Behind us is Belvedere Castle, one of the city’s most unique landmarks, and the site of a recent, violent murder. Elisa Maplewood, a woman who worked and lived only a short distance from here, a single mother of a four-year-old child, was assaulted near the very spot where we’re standing. She was brutally raped and murdered. Detective Peabody, as a key member of the investigative team handling Elisa Maplewood’s murder, can you tell us what progress you’ve made in finding her killer?”
“We are actively pursuing all leads and utilizing all the resources at our disposal.”
“Are you confident you’ll make an arrest?”
Don’t screw up, Peabody ordered herself. Don’t screw up. “The case remains open and active. Lieutenant Dallas and I will continue to work toward identifying Ms. Maplewood’s assailant, gathering evidence that will result in an arrest in order to bring this individual to justice.”
“Can you tell us what specific leads you are pursuing?”
“I’m unable to discuss specific details of this investigation as such might taint the case we’re building or affect the progress of said investigation.”
“As a woman, Detective, do you feel this particular crime more personally?”
Peabody started to deny, then remembered part of the purpose of the interview. “As a cop, it’s imperative to remain objective in every investigation. It’s impossible not to feel, on a personal level, compassion and outrage for any victim of any crime, but that compassion and outrage can’t be allowed to overco
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