Page 34 of Framed in Death (In Death #61)

“The victim’s Janette Whithers, age thirty-one. She went by Chablis. Street level. She’s got family in Kansas. We’ll notify later this morning.”

“What’s the painting?”

“It’s one of the self-deals. Self-Portrait in a Straw Hat , which she was wearing. A French artist, eighteenth century. But sitting instead of standing like in the original.”

“The second victim had to be a bitch to carry on that board.”

“She had props glued and wired. Paintbrushes, a palette with blobs of dried paint on it. Lab needs to identify the kind of paint. The brushes looked new to me, and exactly the same as in the painting. I’m betting the palette’s real wood, because that’s what the artist would have used back then. We’ve got more to tie in.”

“Plus, the fabric trace. I can feel the crack, too.”

“Meanwhile Roarke’s doing the Roarke thing with the costume vendors. He got enough out of one in Paris already to cross them off from the first two costumes.”

“We got a French artist now, and since a self-portrait, a French model.”

“That’s why the Paris place is back on the list. We’ll have this family gallery to hit, the husband to talk to. Someone there rejected this bastard.”

“And Yancy’s working with the other gallery manager. The crack could widen enough to get us a face. I’ve got the fabric vendors lined up to knock down. I actually eliminated one before Dispatch contacted.”

Peabody added a smug smile. “While sitting on my side of our new partner’s desk in my pajamas. It felt really good.”

“You can pick that up again when we get to Central.”

Seconds after a beater pulled out of it, Eve shoved into a street slot between a mini with four flats and a coupe with a broken windshield.

Peabody studied the graffiti-laced prefab and counted twelve floors.

“You know, I’m getting pretty regular workouts in, but if you tell me she’s on the top floor, I might cry. I’ll try to do it quietly, but tears will fall.”

“She was on two.”

“Really!”

Since the building probably hadn’t had viable security since some contractor tossed it up, Eve didn’t have to master in.

“Would we have walked up twelve flights if?”

Eve glanced toward the pair of elevators. Someone had drawn a damn good example of a skull and crossbones on the one to the right.

“What do you think?” she said as she shoved open the door to the stairwell.

“I think I’m glad she lived on two.” Peabody wrinkled her nose. “What do you think that smell is?”

“The moldering corpses of people who took the elevators combined with the sweat and despair of tenants who live above, oh, the fifth floor.”

“I hate to say it, but I think you could be right. But look! Aw, somebody painted a rainbow on the wall here.”

“What’s at the end of that rainbow, Peabody?”

Peabody took a closer look. “It’s a big pile of shit. Well, if you ignore that, the rainbow’s pretty.”

“No one ignores a big pile of shit, Peabody. No one.”

Eve shoved open the door on the second floor.

Though the smell wasn’t much better, and the street noise reverberated, the hallway was almost preternaturally quiet.

No thumping music, no screaming babies, no blasting entertainment screens or shouted arguments.

“Night shift workers,” Eve concluded. “Street LCs.”

As they started down the hall, the elevator behind them opened with a grind and thump.

Two women stepped out, one with a pink cloud of hair, the other with a fall of blond with roots done in what Eve thought might be vermillion.

One risked various infections and parasites in her bare feet with a pair of six-inch, shiny black spikes held in one hand. The other wore hers, with the crisscrossing red straps that climbed to her crotch.

Eve held up her badge.

Pink Cloud shrugged. “So what?”

“Chablis. Either of you know her?”

Red Straps added her own shrug. “So what?”

“So, she’s dead.”

At that the two women looked at each other.

“What the fuck’s wrong with people?” Pink Cloud demanded. “I mean what the serious fuck? She kept out of trouble. Did her job, kept clean. How the hell did she get dead?”

“Did you see her last night, on the stroll?”

“Sure, sure, we saw her. Hell, I walked out and down with her. Shit, shit, this is really upsetting, you know? I gotta sit down. My feet are screaming, and I’ve gotta pee.”

“Do you mind if we come in, ask you some questions?”

“Yeah, yeah, come on. Jesus, Chablis! We liked her fine. Marty?”

“Yeah, we liked her fine. And yeah, I’ll come with you. We look out for each other when we can,” Red Straps told Eve.

They walked down to 205.

Inside, the efficiency apartment was cluttered but clean enough. Pink Cloud tossed the shoes in the general direction of a lumpy sofa and went straight through a door to the bathroom. Shut it.

“Might as well sit down.”

“Could we have your name?”

“I don’t see why not. Martine—and that’s real—Saxton. This is Traci’s place. Traci Barker. Chablis… shit, we always called her that.”

“We have her legal name.” Eve sat, and ignored the three faceless white heads that held wigs. “Did you see Chablis last night?”

“I guess I did. Sure. Yeah, early, and she said something about how she was thinking about heading south when the weather turned, doing at least some of the winter down there. She’s got like five years in, no violations. She can get a winter license maybe out of the city.”

“How early?”

“I don’t know. Not long after I went out. Hell, this blows. It just blows.” She looked over as Traci came out.

“You okay?”

“Just not.” She swiped at her eyes. “She was nice to me right off when I moved in a couple years ago. Gave me pointers, looked out for me some. You, too, Marty, you looked out for me.”

“We look out for each other when we can.”

“Ms. Barker, can I get you some water?”

Swiping at more tears, Traci shook her head. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay. It’s really hitting me, is all.”

“What the hell happened to her?”

Eve looked at Marty. “She went with someone.”

And Marty snorted. “That’s what we do, Slim.”

“She went off with the wrong someone.”

“She was smart,” Traci insisted. “A good judge. And she had a screamer. You know, the button like this.” She pulled one out of her pocket. “If you press it twice it lets out a scream you could hear in Hoboken. She told me to get one, and I did. Never had to use it.”

“He would have looked right,” Eve explained. “Clean, well-dressed. And he’d have offered her cash to leave the stroll and go with him.”

Marty shook her head. “Have to be a lot of cash to get her off the stroll. She’s good. She can pull in four, maybe five hundred on a good night.”

“It would’ve been enough. He’d have had a vehicle. Did either of you see her walk off the stroll with someone?”

“I only saw her, now that I’m thinking, right after I came on, like I said. We talked for a minute, then I got a customer. He’s a regular. Shy Guy,” she said to Traci.

“Oh yeah. He always goes for Marty.”

“You didn’t see her after that?” Eve pressed.

“I guess I didn’t. I didn’t notice. You kind of keep track for the new ones, but she’s got a solid five years.”

“She was thinking of applying for the next level,” Traci added.

“That’s right, I forgot.”

“What time did you go out, speak to her?”

“I don’t know exactly. She goes out earlier. Mostly I don’t head down until later. Maybe, this time of year, close to ten? I don’t know. It’s not a time thing, it’s a hit thing. How many customers you log in a night.”

“Did you see or speak to her once you were on the stroll?” Peabody asked Traci.

“Not really. Not after the first little while. I mean, you have to work it, and if you all stick too close, it makes it harder to score a job. But I guess I did see her talking to a guy. You said clean, well-dressed? Like that.”

“Can you describe him?”

“Not really except he looked, from the back, like that. Clean, nice clothes. That was when this carload of assholes cruised up, and one’s hanging out the window, and he’s yelling how I should give him a freebie because he’s got such a big cock.”

She rolled her teary eyes. “I yelled back how if it’s so big I’d have to charge him extra, so instead of getting pissed off or nasty, he laughed. Oh, and that’s after Shy Guy came up. I saw him before the car pulled up.”

“You didn’t see Chablis after that?”

“I didn’t. I didn’t think about it. Sometimes we take a break together, or walk back home together. Sometimes not. So I didn’t think about it.”

“So, somewhere around ten you saw her with someone?”

“Yeah, if Marty came on at about ten, I guess it wouldn’t have been much after. Maybe like ten-thirty, but it wasn’t that long after.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Can you tell us what happened to her?”

“He offered her money to pose for him. For a painting. He’ll say he’s an artist, and he’ll pay you to come with him to his studio so he can paint you. A lot of money. That’s what we believe. If anyone approaches you like that, don’t go. Get the word out on this.”

“Be damn sure of that,” Marty said.

“You’ve got a screen there,” Eve said as she rose. “Do you ever listen to media reports?”

“Not really.”

“Who has time?” Marty added.

“Make time.”

“Um, just one thing,” Traci said as Eve and Peabody walked to the door. “Chablis, see, she has family in Kansas.”

“Yes. We’ll notify them this morning.”

“It’s just that…” Traci exchanged a look with Marty. “They think she works in, um, retail. She said it was just easier that way. Maybe you don’t have to tell them she didn’t.”

“We can’t lie to them. If questions about how she earned a living don’t come up, they don’t come up. If they do, we have to stick to the facts.”

“Did she have a good relationship with her family?” Peabody asked.

“She really did. She went back every year for Christmas. And she talked to them every couple weeks for sure.”

“Then I think, if we have to tell them, it won’t matter how she made her living. What will matter to them is she’s gone.”

“They’ll want to bring her back out there.” Marty shrugged, but Eve saw tears glaze her eyes. “Maybe you could let us know where to send flowers.”