Page 123 of Random in Death
Eve just waved that away. “She wasn’t the only one who went at me at school, but… I waited, didn’t I? I knew what I was doing under it all. She wasn’t the only, but she was the worst. I wanted to kick the crap out of her, so I waited until I knew I could.”
“You’re going to have to tell me about Big Bitch Brenda sometime, but I see where you’re going. He’s got one picked who he’s decided was the worst.”
“Or one he wanted, sexually, more than the others.”
“Or. He’ll get to her when he knows he’s ready.”
“Or, again, when he can’t hold out longer. It’s not going to be this girl, but we’ll do our job. Private school girl, someone he’d see every day. Who didn’t bother to look back.
“Let’s get this done, and move on.”
Chapter Seventeen
Arlie’s room wrapped the cheerful around chaos. A wildly floral spread covered the bed, and a half ton of pillows covered that. An enormous board crowded with sketches of designs commanded one wall. Curtains of shimmering blue spilled down the sides of the window.
A table stood in front of it, and on the table some sort of sewing machine Eve figured you’d need a degree in mechanical science to operate.
“Oh boy, that’s one mag machine! Hanson Super Pro Portable,” Peabody said, all but cooing over it. “And she’s got a fully adjustable tailor’s form. What I’d give for one of those! Looks like she was working on a few projects at once.”
Eve saw piles of fabric, more sort of draped on the dummy, an open chest holding more.
“You can tell that?”
“Oh, sure. I mean, I don’t work like this.” Obviously unable to resist, Peabody fingered some of the fabric. “Sure, I can bounce from a building project to a sewing one or knitting, crocheting, whatever, but I can’t juggle two projects of the same type at once. Gotta follow through.
“My aunt Margo works like this, and basically so does Leonardo. These curtains, Dallas, the bedclothes, even some of these pillows? Handmade. Either she made them or her mother did. Probably some of each. It’s excellent work.”
“She’s got a work/study area. Take that, see what you can find on her comp. I’ve got the closet.”
No adjoining bath here, and a closet about half the size of Jenna Harbough’s. But the cheerful chaos didn’t continue in the closet. Clothes, carefully organized by type, coordinated by color, likely reflected the victim’s deep respect for wardrobe.
They’d solved the small space by installing a closet system with rods at varying heights, strategically placed hooks, a long shelf over a rod for shoes and boots.
In the space, Eve found nothing but youthful style.
“She’s got a lot of her design work on here,” Peabody said. “It’s pretty good, I think. Lots of flash. She’s got files for school—last year’s still on here. And she’s bookmarked universities—ones with solid design departments. Looking for scholarships.
“Got a bunch of personal photos,” Peabody added as she continued to search, “transferred from her ’link. Family stuff, friend stuff, a lot of her with the boyfriend. She has music downloaded. Probably played it while she worked or just hung around.”
Peabody pushed back. “Most of her communications, her calendar, more photos and such, they’ll be on her ’link. EDD already has that.”
“No connection to the first victim, but I didn’t expect to find it. Nothing that indicates she knew her killer. Her room’s like Jenna’s, but flipped.”
That brought on a frown. “I don’t get that.”
“It’s messy in here, chaotic, and her closet’s like a tiny five-star boutique. Jenna’s was the opposite. Neat room, messy closet. But they both had a particular passion, and aimed straight for it.”
Shoving her hands in her pockets, Eve wandered the room.
“Is that it? Are we missing something, and this matters? Is that part of his motive, his method? Kill the girl with a dream? It couldn’t be if it was of the moment, if it’s random, and everything else says it is. But these two girls had common ground. No personal connection, but that singular dream, and the skill to go for it.”
“Does Rosenburg have one?”
“None that shows, but we’ll find out either way.”
“Even if she does, I still don’t see it, Dallas. The two victims live on opposite sides of the city, have no mutual friends or family. Yes, to the singular passion and skill—though Jenna’s was, well, soaring skill, and Arlie’s was solid, full of potential, but not as polished yet.”
“They both had family support. That could play. Family paying attention.”