Unnatural Acts

40

Shelley Bach sat at the dressing table in her room at the Carlyle and regarded her image in the mirror. She used a hand mirror to look at her profile and liked what she saw, even without makeup. There were still a few red places, but as she sponged on her makeup, they magically went away. She liked her new auburn hair, too; it went beautifully with her natural, pale skin color. She dressed and left the hotel.

Now she made her third visit to her new dentist for the fitting of her new smile. The veneers from the dental lab corrected small irregularities in her front teeth, and they were whiter than the originals. She had approved them on her second visit, when they had been affixed to a mold of her teeth. Now they were put permanently in place. She gave the receptionist her credit card and regarded herself in the mirror. She was exactly what she had wanted to be: a different person. No one who knew her would recognize her with her new profile, her new teeth, and her new clothes. She looked ten years younger, and she was no longer the government drone she had been at the FBI; she was a New York woman.

Now all she wanted was to go shopping. Oh, and one other thing: she wanted a man. She stepped out onto Madison Avenue and swung her long legs toward Seventy-second Street and the Ralph Lauren store.

Dino looked up from his desk to see Viv DeCarlo standing at his office door. She looked great, he thought: slim, but busty, black hair as thick as fur, nice clothes. She seemed to be dressing better these days. “Yeah, Viv? What have you got?”

“I’ve got two TROs on Ed Abney,” she said, “but a few years back. I have a theory about that.”

“Have a seat. What’s your theory?”

Viv sat down and crossed her legs. “I think he’s never stopped abusing women,” she said, “but I think he’s gotten better at intimidating them. I think that’s the only reason there are no recent TROs.”

“Makes sense to me,” Dino said. “Are you ready to make an arrest?”

“I’m not sure about that,” she said. “All we’ve got are the old TROs and Marla Rocker’s statement about what Annette said to her in the john at Sardi’s.”

“What sort of job did the crime-scene guys do on Annette’s apartment?”

“We didn’t get lucky there. He seems to have wiped everything down, and get this: they found an empty chemical douche in her kitchen garbage can. He probably flushed out her vagina, too.”

Dino frowned. “If he’s that careful, he’s going to be hard to nail. Do we know of any other women he’s been out with?”

“No, but I’d like to tail him and see who we can turn up. Any chance of a wiretap?”

“You can talk to the DA, but I doubt it. And we’re short of manpower. We couldn’t manage a proper tail team right now, unless we suspected he was about to hurt somebody again.”

“I’ve checked back on unsolved murders of women with theatrical backgrounds. There are two that might be a fit, but we’ve no evidence to connect him with them.”

“It’s all too nebulous,” Dino said.

“I have an idea about how to make it less nebulous,” she said, “but you’re not going to like it.”

“Why am I not going to like it?”

“Because it involves Rosie and me getting to know Mr. Abney.”

“Wait a minute, you’re not talking about-”

“Of course not. Neither of us is going to sleep with him and certainly not a threesome. You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?”

“Not entirely. What do you have in mind?”

“I thought we’d give Abney a choice, see which of us he likes. If he bites, the other can run the tail, if you’ll give us one more team.”

Dino thought about it. It was a bold move, he had to admit. “You’re never to be alone with him,” he said. “Never.”

“I had a thought about that, too. We’ll wire an apartment and take him there. He’ll always be on camera, and there’ll be a team next door, watching. We won’t be alone that way, and we’ll have a record of what happens.”

“Where would you do this?”

“I’ve got a girlfriend who’s going to Europe for three weeks. She has a nice place, and I think she’ll let us use it. It has a romantic look to it-soft furniture, lots of pillows.”

“If you can set it up properly, I’ll give you two teams,” Dino said.

Viv rewarded him with a broad smile.

Shelley Bach cut a swath through the new Ralph Lauren women’s store, across the street from the old Rhinelander mansion, which now housed the men’s store. Lauren’s designs fit her beautifully, and there was a new line just in. She picked half a dozen things and ordered them delivered to the Carlyle. The sales assistants couldn’t do enough for her.

Dink Brennan put on a suit, left the hotel, and took a cab the few blocks to his father’s office. He had thought of calling first, but he didn’t think he could pull this off on the phone. What he was going to do now needed to be done face-to-face.

He hadn’t been to his father’s offices for a couple of years, and the firm had moved to a new building on East Sixty-seventh Street since then. He found the name in the building’s directory and took the elevator to the top floor.

He was impressed with the decor in the new place-cool and modern, obviously designed by a top architect. He walked to the reception desk.

“Good morning. May I help you?” the young woman said.

“Yes, I’d like to see Marshall Brennan. My name is Dink Brennan.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“No, I thought I’d surprise him.”

“Surprise him?”

“I’m his son.”

The woman made the call, then hung up. “Someone will be right with you,” she said.

Dink took a seat, but only a moment passed before his father’s secretary appeared in the reception room. He stood up. “Hello, Anne,” he said. “Long time.”

She shook his hand. “You’re looking very well, Dink,” she said.

“I hope Dad will think so, too. Will he see me?”

“Of course. Follow me.”

Dink followed her down the long hall and into the lion’s den.