Revenant in Death
Chapter 14
by Technomad
Eve DallasEve Dallas' days were usually full, what with the activities she had found to keep herself occupied, but she still missed police work. She enjoyed her work at the Academy, and was glad to pass forward the teaching she had received from her teachers and mentors, but there was still nothing like actual, hands-on investigation.
Her old friends in the NYPSD knew that, and would often bring their cases over to her home, asking for her input and insights. This gratified Eve more than almost anything not connected directly with her boy Sean. She felt as though her colleagues had not abandoned or forgotten her.
Right then, she was sitting with Peabody, looking over the files relating to a series of murders. Peabody said: "This is just the sort of thing you'd have really sunk your teeth into in the old days, sir. There have been six murders, and each one is reminiscent of one of the plagues that hit Egypt in the Old Testament."
Eve thought about it. "Have you thought of rounding up any Vincent Price fans who might have motives? This sounds like something from one of his movies-The Abominable Doctor Phibes, if I remember rightly."
"I hadn't thought of that. That's why we were such a good team, back in the day, sir. You often knew things I didn't know."
"Just as you knew things that I didn't. But what one of us knew, both of us knew, or could know if necessary."
Peabody beamed. "We were a good team, weren't we, sir?"
"Yes, we were. I hear you're training up some youngster or other, the way I trained you. How is that going?"
"Oh, Deborah's working out really well. She had a good track record down in Miami, and she's adjusting to New York. She's got the cutest little boy! She brought him along to work to show him "what Mommy does all day long," and he was asking all sorts of questions. He said he wanted to 'be a police' and everybody applauded him." Peabody grinned. "Maybe one day he'll be in the audience at the Academy when you're giving one of your lectures?"
"Maybe so. And so might your children." Peabody's children were all enthusiastic about their parents' work, and planned to attend the Academy themselves.
"Deborah does have problems with some of our more horn dog male cops. She does have incredible looks. I wish I looked like that." Peabody sighed. "She's been asked for dates by every single male cop in the building, or so it seems, and probably some of the married ones as well. Not to mention, some of the women would love to 'get to know her better.'"
"How is she taking that?"
"She wishes it wouldn't happen. She's got Dirty Harry's personality in a supermodel's body. Frankly, as focused on the job as she is, I could see her growing up to be you."
"There can be only one, Peabody," Eve intoned, with a wink to take the sting out of the words. "At least she isn't looking to behead me." While she'd been recovering, Peabody had made sure to keep her company, and had taken it on herself to introduce Eve to the great classics of the movies, including the original Highlander. Eve had been intrigued by the idea of an immortal walking in contemporary New York, while Peabody had sighed over the swoony males on display.
"What else is on the agenda, sir?" Peabody visibly chose to change the subject. Eve thought about it for a few minutes.
"I'm going out of town for a while. Roarke has some properties in Hawaii, and wants to show them to me. Then Sean'll be home, and I want to be back here to welcome him."
"Sean's such a darling!" On that note of agreement, the old friends parted.
Rayleen StraffoRayleen was headed down the sidewalk, back to the Café Susan. Beside her, Willow Mackie walked, her eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. Rayleen nudged her unobtrusively.
"Don't act like you're scared, Will," she muttered. "People in this sort of place can home in on that sort of thing!"
"I'm not scared," Willow murmured. "I'm just looking at all those wonderful spots to set up for some sniping!"
Rayleen rolled her eyes. Willow's obsessions could be tiresome sometimes. More and more, she was coming to the conclusion that either she and Willow should part company once Eve Dallas' demise was certain, or she might have to eliminate Willow herself. She wasn't happy about the thought of killing Willow, but if Willow was going to be a threat to her continued liberty, Willow would have to go.
When they got to the Café Susan, Willow's eyes filled with tears. "Dad and I used to eat in places like this, when we were hiding out." She sniffled. "I still miss my Dad!"
Rayleen had long since decided that she was an orphan, even though both of her parents were still alive. She did understand that Willow had been very close to her father, though. When they'd got word that her father had died, Willow had taken it calmly enough out in public, but in the privacy of their cell, Willow had wept and wept as Rayleen tried to calm her.
The habitues of the Café Susan looked up as the two women entered, but since Rayleen had been there before, and they were dressed to not stand out in the vicinity, paid them little heed. There were several tables vacant, and the two friends claimed one where they could see the entrances to the dining area without visibly gawping around.
That was a habit they'd carried over from their days in prison. While the facilities they'd been in were generally well-run and safe, there was always the chance of things going South in a hurry. They'd seen unwary fellow convicts set upon and hurt, or even killed in some cases, because they hadn't been keeping a watch on their surroundings.
Once they'd settled in, Rayleen and Willow had made a point of not antagonizing their fellow-unfortunates, and had done their best to avoid any quarrels. Others had been less circumspect, and with many of them serving sentences of many years, disagreements and personality clashes had plenty of opportunity to fester into homicidal hatred.
Rayleen remembered seeing screaming fights, with knives slashing flesh and clubs battering skulls, over provocations that the fighters would have laughed off or shrugged off had they been free. While she had always made it clear that deliberate attempts to victimize her would be resisted fiercely, she had practiced what she had heard was called "non-attachment" among Buddhists. She had always had her eye on eventual freedom, and the pleasure to be had from teaching some ignorant bitch a lesson was nothing compared to her ultimate goal.
She had been quite willing to arrange things so that people who tried to victimize or take advantage of her came to grief, but she made sure to be clear of the consequences. When a would-be bully was caught with contraband in her bunk or cell, nobody was more surprised than Rayleen. And watching as they were dragged off to the Hole was sweet. She had never been in the Hole herself, because she had figured out quickly that it was a bad place to be. That was one reason she never let herself be caught breaking the rules, and always had a plausible story ready for why she was doing whatever she was doing. She had broken rules right, left and center, but had not been caught doing so.
Willow, on the other hand, had spent time in the Hole. At first, she had spat defiance at her captors, refusing to cooperate even when cooperation would have been in her own good interest. Rayleen had watched this go on for some time, and had finally taken it on herself to tame Willow. She had approached Willow when nobody else was willing to, and after a few snarls, Willow had accepted her offer of friendship. Being close in age had helped them bond.
Renee Obermann had been a mentor to both of them. "Like a den mother from Hell," she had said wryly. The three of them had palled around together, and under their influence, Willow had mellowed and accepted the situation, at least on the surface. "Your thoughts are free, Willow," Renee had said on several occasions. "That doesn't mean you have to share them with every hack, screw, snout or pig that comes along, does it?" Put that way, Willow had understood, and had dialed back her defiance on the surface. Much to her amusement, Renee had been praised by the prison administration for helping tame Willow.
The same tired-looking waitress came over. She seemed to be the only employee on duty, at least at this hour. "What'll you ladies have?"
"Two black coffees and the seagull special, please," Rayleen replied. The waitress nodded, took the menus, and went back of the counter to pour their cups. Rayleen was glad to get her hands on the cup when it came, because it was cold outside and she hadn't worn gloves. She held it in both hands, letting it warm her chilled fingers. Beside her, Willow gulped hers thirstily. She had said during their incarceration that one thing she really, really missed was coffee. She had made it every morning for her father, every day that they were together. Rayleen figured that for Willow, this was another link to the dad she had loved above all others.
John Siegel came over and sat with them. "Afternoon, ladies," he said. Rayleen signalled Willow that all was well. "I'm John Siegel." Willow narrowed her eyes slightly as Rayleen introduced her. "You two want the seagull special, do you?"
"Yes, we do. I brought Annie along because she's the one who'll be using it." They had decided that Willow's real name was a little too conspicuous, so Rayleen and Willow had hashed over some pseudonyms. Willow had finally decided that she liked "Annie Crabtree," in homage to one of her heroines, Annie Oakley.
"Well, finish your coffee and we'll go upstairs, ladies." Rayleen and Willow gulped the last of their coffee. Rayleen privately thought that the coffee in the Café Susan tasted like tar, but she said nothing. When she was operating on her own, nothing but the best would do if she could get it, but for the sake of revenge on Eve Dallas, and her pestilential birth family, she'd have cheerfully drunk rancid rat piss.
Siegel led the two women upstairs, to the same room he and Rayleen had been in before. Willow looked around warily as they sat down. "Is this place secure?"
Rayleen eyed Siegel warily. Sarge had assured her via the IH8LTDallas forum that Siegel could be trusted, but she knew there was a chance that he could be turned. Meeting this man in this place was a calculated risk. There'd been time to install bugs and hidden cameras. At least she and Willow were both disguised sufficiently that she could have walked right up to Mame Burnside or Eve Dallas and never been recognized as "Jane Mollenbeek." Or as Rayleen Straffo, in the case of Eve Dallas. Siegel wasn't a shooter, and would probably never have even heard of "Willow Mackie," or of her father.
"Safe as can be. I do a lot of business up here, and the cops have never so much as come close to figuring it out." Rayleen decided that once this little bit of business was done, she'd cut all ties with this man. She didn't need to keep in touch with him, and wanted him to know as little as possible about her. She pondered the idea of killing him once the deal was done, and abandoned the idea regretfully. Leaving corpses in her wake was one way to get the NYPSD on her trail, and once they were there, who knew what they would find?
"Here we are." Siegel reached down and produced the same musical-instrument case that he had shown Rayleen when she was there earlier. He opened it, and Willow's eyes went wide with delight at what she saw.
"Ooooh…aaaah…" Willow said, apparently completely involuntarily. She looked shyly at Siegel. "May I?"
"Please do, ma'am. If you're going to be the one using it, it makes sense. I also want to make sure you can disassemble and re-assemble the weapon. I sell only quality goods, and don't want disappointed customers." Probably because the sort of things you sell, and the sort of people you sell to, can be dangerous if something goes wrong, thought Rayleen. She knew that in Siegel's shoes, she wouldn't want a bunch of disappointed customers looking for her to express their displeasure. Such displeasure would be likely to be fatal.
Willow took the components out of the case, and snapped them together expertly, with not a single wasted motion. Rayleen, watching, did have to acknowledge that in her chosen field, Willow had few equals and fewer, if any, superiors. With her finger off the trigger, Willow poised the sniper laser, resting it against her shoulder as she aimed it out of the window, sighting through the telescopic sights.
When she was done, she took it back apart and put each of the pieces back into its proper place in the case. Rayleen could see a look of longing on her face, but she caught Willow's eye and gave them the signal to let Rayleen do the talking.
"This seems to be what we need, Mr. Siegel," she said. "Now, about prices…?"
Siegel named a price, and Rayleen sneered. "You think we're made of money? We aren't rich women, you know!" She named a much lower price, and the haggle was on in earnest. Rayleen had learned to haggle and bargain in her years in prison, swapping things with her fellow convicts. In an environment of relative scarcity, even items that were commonplaces in the free world became valuable, whether for use or trade with others.
Willow looked restive, but knew to let Rayleen do the talking. She sat back, watching developments carefully, and not taking her eyes off the cased sniper laser for long.
Finally, Siegel and Rayleen came to an agreement on price. Rayleen pulled her wallet out of her purse, and began counting out bills. She could have paid Siegel's first asking price, but did not wish to be seen as being too rich, or careless with money. In this sort of neighborhood, that was an invitation to trouble. Siegel watched her carefully as she counted, and once the price had been reached, scooped the money up.
"Well, I wish both you lovely ladies all the joy you deserve. With your permission, I'll be on my way." Without another word, Siegel turned and left. Willow pounced on the laser, carefully closing the case and hugging it to her chest.
"Look, I know you're happy to have that. However, I'm going to suggest that we leave it at my other apt for a week or so. Just in case there's some sort of tracer on it. If the pigs bust in and grab it, there's nothing there to connect us to it. Once I'm sure that it's clean as far as that goes, I'll bring it on over to your place." Willow thought about that for a second, then nodded. She was as eager to stay free as Rayleen herself was, and had learned the lesson of caution in the same hard school as Rayleen had.
They took the cased laser out, and headed down the stairs, back to the nearest public-transpo site. Once they were there, they split up, with Willow heading back to her hideaway, and Rayleen heading to her secondary apt to put the laser there for a while. She also wanted to change out of her current disguise, back to "Jane Mollenbeek." She had plans for the rest of the day.
After she left her secondary apt, with the locks she had installed firmly locked, Rayleen decided on a bold course of action. Instead of heading directly back to Mame's place, she took another route, one that took her to the plaza where the Police Academy stood.
The day was overcast and bleak, and the little park in front of the Police Academy and the Davis Hotel was nearly deserted. Walking purposefully, as though she'd done this many times before, Rayleen Straffo walked directly into the Police Academy.
She found herself in an attractive lobby, with one wall covered with plaques in honor of police who had given their lives in the course of their duties. To herself, Rayleen sneered that it was a shame that Eve Dallas' name wasn't up there. Looking around, she found an information kiosk, and stepped up to it as though coming to the Police Academy was a routine part of her day. Down deep, she was shaking with fear, but she had learned to suppress the outward signs of fear early on in her imprisonment. In prison, particularly in the tough off-planet facility she had been in at first, showing fear was like throwing blood into shark-infested waters.
In the kiosk, a young woman in what Rayleen recognized as a police cadet's uniform looked up from a screen. "Yes? May I help you, ma'am?"
"I've heard that Lieutenant Eve Dallas gives lectures here. Could you give me a schedule of when they happen? And are the lectures open to the general public?"
The cadet looked slightly confused. "Yes, she does give lectures here. May I ask why you want to sit in on one?"
"Oh, I'm such a fan of hers!" gushed Rayleen. "I saw The Icove Agenda, and read the book it's based on! When I found I was going to be living in New York, I made it my goal to meet her! Maybe I can even get her to autograph my copy of The Icove Agenda?"
That explanation satisfied the cadet. Even now, after so long, The Icove Agenda was considered a recognized classic, both as police work and as a book and movie. "I'm afraid that the lectures are for police cadets only, ma'am. But Lieutenant Dallas enters and exits the building through this entrance. If you catch her here, I'm sure she would be happy to autograph anything you want. Would you like a schedule of her lectures?"
"Oh, would I! I'd treasure it!" Rayleen's enthusiasm was completely unfeigned. She had needed to get a reliable schedule of when and where Eve Dallas would show herself out in the open, and here the nice, cooperative police were giving it to her on a silver plate! Inwardly, she congratulated herself on being just that much more clever and more deserving than anybody else. When the cadet handed her a printout showing the times when Eve Dallas would be lecturing, Rayleen slipped it into her purse and gave the young woman a beaming, utterly sincere smile before turning to go, with effusive thanks for the cadet's help.
Back at Mame's, Rayleen had the house all but to herself, since Mame was out of town at the moment. She pulled out her phone and gave Willow a text message.
Sked in hand. Will forward ASAP. With the schedule of Eve Dallas' lectures, Rayleen was sure that she and Willow could easily arrange a nasty, fatal surprise for the woman they both hated above all others on earth.