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 breakin, 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.”
“Just all the rest of the time.”
Olsen grinned. “And he’s so good at it. He says you’re the best LT he’s ever worked under, and Peabody’s as good as they get. So.”
She offered a hand to Eve. “Thanks for making the time. Anything we can do to bag this bastard will have me doing my happy dance.”
When Olsen left, Peabody preened. “I have a rep.”
“That’s what you got out of all that?”
“Just taking a moment to bask.”
“Basking’s done,” Eve said as she rose.
“Good thing, as I’ve got a notification Oliver Quint’s just signed in. He’s one of the delivery guys.”
“Let’s get him in Interview.”
“I liked Olsen,” Peabody said as they headed out. “Do you think she and Baxter…”
“What is Baxter’s middle name?”
“Horndog. Yeah, that answers that.”
*
Quint was a skinny black guy with huge eyes and a tiny beard. He sat in the box with his narrow shoulders hunched and his dark moon eyes darting. Eve’s first thought was nobody that jumpy could successfully shoplift a bag of soy chips from a 24/7 much less orchestrate a trio of breakins, rapes, and a murder.
But you had to start somewhere.
“Nervous, Oliver?”
“It’s Ollie, okay. My ma calls me Oliver when I’m in trouble. Am I in trouble?”
“Have you done anything to get you there?”
“Look, Chachie said how he found the wrist unit, and he needed some scratch, so I bought it off him cheap. Maybe I sort of figured he maybe stole it somewhere, but I didn’t steal it.”