Shadows in Death (In Death #51) - J.D. Robb Page 0,70
trace to Harvo, though I imagine the leather will turn out to be fairly common. The multiple stab wounds, slashes, punctures were likely inflicted with the same weapon that killed Modesto.”
“Stiletto.”
“Yes. Causing pain, blood loss until she was too weak to fight.”
“Then he shoved her in the sack. A lot of blood on the sack. That’s who he is,” Eve murmured. “Roarke said he did the same to a little dog when they were kids in Dublin. He’s killed four hundred and forty-four human beings, that we know of. I wonder how many like this.”
Morris started to lay a hand on hers, remembered the blood.
He moved over to a sink to wash. “We deal with the humans, all the time. And we feel. But something like this outrages on a different level.”
He came back. “I attempt to have some objectivity, some intellectual understanding of the sickness that drives some to take lives. But in this case, I find none.”
“He did it to make a point. He enjoyed it, but he wanted to make a point. His mistake. She’s going to help us find him.”
“It would be unprofessional of me to suggest you kick him in the balls when you do.”
“Yeah. Just like it’s unprofessional of me to hope I get the chance to.”
“I hope you find who cared for her.”
“I will, and when I do, I’ll let them know she’s in good hands now.”
Eve drove straight to Central. She could update Peabody on the cat—knowing it had been fixed three to four weeks prior gave them a timeline for the vet.
She’d write her report, with that included, then …
Roarke would be running out of time on the salon deal. They’d get on that.
But when she walked into Homicide, every eye turned to her—like she had a box of damn doughnuts.
Might as well brief everybody then and there.
“As you know by now, Cobbe slaughtered a cat, left it at my gates.”
“Sick fucking fuck,” Jenkinson muttered.
“While I pursued Cobbe into the park, he eluded me. It’s probable he had a vehicle nearby, as he also eluded the grid search. However, Harvo identified a medical treatment used on the cat to treat her for mange. The blood work confirms oral meds and supplements.”
“I’ve got her report.” Though Peabody’s eyes were a little damp, her voice didn’t quaver. “I’m working on the list of vets now.”
“We can add to that with Morris’s conclusions. The cat, a young female, had been spayed three to four weeks ago. He concludes she was most likely a stray, taken in and cared for in that period of time. So we’ll look for a vet who treated a cat of her description for mange, malnutrition, fleas, and who spayed her.”
“The timeline helps,” Carmichael put in. “But there’s a crapload of vets in New York. I can give Peabody a hand.”
“Do that. We find the vet, we find the caretaker or owner, and we figure out how Cobbe got his hands on the cat.”
“Sir.” Trueheart signaled from his desk. “It could just be somebody who picked up a stray, but it sounds like a rescue. There are groups and individuals who rescue and foster cats and dogs. They put them up for adoption, or keep them. But you can find them online, on web-sites, with pictures of the cat or dog.”
“That’s right.” Reineke pointed at Trueheart. “My sister got her hound that way. Nice dog.”
“There’s a lot of them,” Trueheart added, “but you can filter the search, cat, female, an age span. And add the timeline when the treatments started.”
“That’s good. It’s good. Do that,” she told him. “Peabody, stick with the vets for now. Carmichael, try the pounds.
“Another angle. Baxter and Trueheart interviewed the LC Cobbe hired on the night of the Modesto murder. She observed hair and skin products in his bathroom kit. The hair products can only be purchased through a licensed salon. The asshole’s worried about losing his hair, so he’s given us another lead. Roarke’s checking on Dublin salons at this time. I’ve culled down those in New York in case he needs a boost or a refill.
“Additionally, we’re taking another angle on his hole. Given the timing, how fast he moved out of the hotel, we’re looking for safe houses. Private residences available for a fee to high-level criminals. He has the contacts, and this feels more solid to me than him snapping up a rental. I’ll have a list within the hour.
“He’ll need more clothes,” she added. “And he likes the good stuff.