Shadows in Death (In Death #51) - J.D. Robb Page 0,64
or the living area of the suite. He’d showered not long before she got there, because there was a damp towel on the floor. He had his kit out on the counter. High-end products—travel size. When we pressed, she remembered a couple of brands. He uses That Man skin products—and I can tell you they’re steep. Underworld hair products—including the daily treatment to address hair loss.”
“Hair loss. Interesting.”
“You have to get that line direct from a licensed salon, and it’s generally used to supplement salon treatments, recommended every three months. Trueheart looked it up. And since we’re smart cops, we’ve done a search for salons so licensed in Dublin. Thirty-two of them.”
“That’s good. That’s very good.”
“So say we all. We’ll go ahead and run the search in New York.”
“I’ll take that.”
“It’s all yours, Loo. He’d had at least one drink before she got there. She smelled the whiskey. He wasn’t drunk or impaired, but he’d had a drink, and was having one when she left.”
“Got it. That’s good work.”
“Yvette’s on alert to notify us if he books again, and agreed to do the same if she happened to see him in her jaunts around town.”
“Good enough. Call it a night.”
“You need more, just give a tag and we’re on it.”
“Appreciated.”
“I stand corrected,” Roarke said when she clicked off. “Out of a twenty-minute session he had with an LC, you have those details, those lines. You may not be happy to hear there are eighty-eight salons in Manhattan licensed for Underworld hair products and treatments, but you’ll cull that down.”
“Yeah, we will. First way, how many of those—and the ones in Dublin—also carry the skin stuff he uses.”
“Ha. Well, of course.”
“People tend to stick with the same person and place with stuff like that. Even if it’s Trina,” she added in a mutter.
“They do, yes—and our Trina’s salon is so licensed.”
“When we nail down the salon in Dublin and his Trina-type person, we’ll get more. And we’ll get the last time he had the in-salon deal, see when he’d want another. If his usual recommends other places when he’s traveling.”
With more coffee, she studied the board again.
“Sloppy to leave the kit out, but the LC’s just a vehicle for release as he sees it. Sloppy to hire out for sex anyway when for what he used it for, he could’ve whacked off and saved eleven large.”
“Whacking off provides release, but it doesn’t feed the ego like a beautiful woman who’s there to do whatever you want.”
Eve sat again, pointed a finger at him. “That’s absolutely right. He needed the vehicle, needed to know he could pay top dollar for ten minutes. And now we have more details.”
She gestured toward the auxiliary. “How about you?”
“I’ve a number of possibilities. It’ll take longer to cull through them.”
“Can it cull on auto?”
“For a first pass.”
“Let’s do that. I’m tired. I need some sleep.”
When he simply looked at her, she hissed out a breath. “Okay, let’s say we both need some sleep. And most of what I need to do has to wait until morning anyway. So do me a favor.”
“On auto then.”
“Good, and I’ll do the same with the salon angle.”
Once she had, in twice the time it took him to set his up, she rose. “I’m going to dump all these angles and results on Abernathy’s lap tomorrow.”
He took her hand. “Would that be ego?”
“Damn right. How come the alphabets never figured out Cobbe worried about losing his hair?” As they walked out, Galahad streaked by in his quest to beat them to the bed. “That’s some gold to mine.”
“And you know Cobbe likely didn’t get quite so sloppy—as you put it—before. But still, it gives you a one-up on the inspector, which you’ll enjoy.”
“Some. But I can set that back for getting Interpol’s resources on the angle.”
When they reached the bedroom, the cat had stretched himself over as much of the bed as possible. Eve sat to pull off her boots—gave them a study.
“Then there’s the boots. Custom boots. Who’s his bootmaker? Does he have one in Dublin? Same with suits, because he’d want some of those. He’d need a tailor for that reversible jacket. He needed to find a cat to kill, a hole to hide in. Private shuttle and ground service.
“Lots of gold to mine.”
When she got into bed, he drew her against him. The cat shifted to curl into the small of her back.
“Who decided gold was worth digging out of caves or whatever?” she wondered. “And why? Because