"Robb, J D - In Death 13 - Betrayal In Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robb J D)

"Quite a lot for a cash purchase. As for the Captain Stud, much more appropriate for him, don't you agree? Just one moment."
He strolled off, showed the list and photograph to a brunette at the near skin-care section. She frowned, studied the papers, then with a nod, hurried away.
"We think we may know the consultant who tended to this customer. Would you prefer to use a privacy area?"
"No, this is fine. You didn't recognize him?"
"No, but I don't interact with customers unless there's a problem of some sort. Or unless the customers are, such as yourself, VIPs. Ah, here's Letta now. Letta, ma coeur, I hope you'll give Lieutenant Dallas your assistance."
"I'm sure." And there was just enough Midwestern twang in the voice to make Martin wince.
"You waited on the man in this photograph?" Eve asked, tapping a finger on the picture Letta held.
"Yes. I'm almost sure it's him. He's had a little sculpting around the eyes and mouth in the picture, but it's the same basic facial structure. And this product list fits."
"Was this the first time you'd seen him?"
"Well... I think he's been in before. But he wears different wigs -- hair alternatives," she corrected, sliding an apologetic glance toward Martin. "And he varies his skin tones, eyes. He likes a lot of different looks. A number of customers -- clients," she amended, shaking her head at herself, "do. It's one of the services we provide at Paradise. Varying your looks can vary your mood and improve -- "
"Save the sales pitch, Letta. Tell me about the day he bought those items."
"Okay. I mean, yes, madam. I think it was early afternoon, because we still had some of the lunch crush. I'd spent a lot of time with a woman who had to look at everything we had in blonde. I mean everything, and then she ended up doing the 'I'll think about it' routine."
She rolled her purple eyes, caught Martin's, then after a jolt, relaxed when she saw his smile of sympathy. "So when this client approached asking to see the Distinguished Gentleman, true black and gray, it was a relief. He knew just what he wanted, even if it wasn't what I thought of as right for him."
"Why wasn't it right for him?"
"He was a big, beefy guy -- gentleman -- with a square-shaped head. Just a look about him that made me think he worked with his hands, like a trade. The DG was just too fussy elegant for him. But he was set on it. He put it on himself, seemed to know just how to fit it."
"What kind of hair did he have? His hair, not the alternative."
"Oh, he's bald as a baby's ... He's a natural scalp. Totally. Very healthy scalp, too. Good tone and polish to it. I don't know why he'd cover it. He saw the Captain Stud on display and asked for that, too. It was a better look. Sort of made him look like a general, I thought, and when I said so he looked very pleased. Smiled. He has a really nice smile. He was very polite and courteous, too. He called me Miss Letta, and said please and thank you. You don't get that sort of thing all the time in retail service."
She paused a moment, frowned up at the ceiling. "Then he told me he wanted to buy some Youth. He laughed a little, because you know how that sounds -- buy some youth -- and I laughed a little and we went over to skin care. We're trained to assist clients in all areas of our product line, to streamline their Paradise experience and all. I took him from department to department that way. With him telling me exactly what he wanted, and with him, very courteously again, turning off my suggestions for add-ons. We finished with the dietary product, and I said that he certainly didn't need it. And he said that he was afraid he enjoyed his food a little too much. When he was done, he indicated that he would take the purchases rather than take advantage of our free messenger service, so I totaled and made him a carryout parcel. Then he handed over that huge wad of cash, and my eyes about fell out on my shoes."
"It's not usual for a client to pay cash?"
"Oh, we do a lot of cash transactions, but I've never personally done one over two thousand dollars, and this was more than four times that. I guess he saw I was goggling, because he smiled at me again and said that he preferred to pay as he went."
"You spent a lot of time with him then."
"More than an hour."
"Tell me about his speech pattern. Did he have an accent?"
"Sort of. Not really anything I could place. He had a kind of high voice. Almost like a woman's. But very nice, soft and well, cultured, I guess. Come to think of it, his voice fit the DG more than it fit him, if you know what I mean."
"Did he mention his name, anything about where he lived, where he worked?"
"No. Early on, I tried to coax his name out by saying something like: I'd be happy to show you other styles, Mr.... But he just smiled and shook his head. So I called him 'sir' the whole time. I suppose I thought he lived in New York because he took away rather than having sent or shipped, but I suppose he could have been from anywhere."
"You said you thought you'd seen him in here before."
"I'm pretty sure. Not long after I started working here, in the early part of the Christmas rush. Late October, maybe early November. At the skin counter again. He was wearing a coat and hat, but I really think it was the same man."
"Did you wait on him?"
"No, it was Nina. But I remember, sure, I remember now because we bumped into each other behind the counter getting products for our clients and she said how this guy was buying the whole Artistry skin-care line -- that's who makes Youth. That's a couple thousand, and a really good commission, so I took a peek thinking how I wished I'd snagged him instead of Nina."
"But you hadn't noticed him before or since."
"No, ma'am."
Eve took her through a few more questions, then asked to see Nina.
Nina's memory wasn't as keen as Letta's. But when Eve moved from her to other clerks, she picked up just enough to be certain Yost dropped into Paradise once or twice a year.
"He'll have other places, other cities," she told Peabody when they were back in the car. "But on this same level. He won't settle for less. Always cash, and he'll know what he wants when he walks in. He pays attention to advertising, researches his products."
"Watches a lot of screen."
"Likely, but I'd bet this guy runs the product data on his computer. He wants a handle on the ingredients, the manufacturer's record, the consumer endorsements. Let's see what EDD can do about tracing that skin line backwards from last October when he made that purchase. He bought the whole ball of wax so that could mean he'd seen the ad, done the research, then decided to try it out. Artistry's bound to have a site for consumer information and questions."
She tried the luggage store next. None of the clerks recalled a man meeting Yost's description buying the carry-on. But downtown, she hit gold, so to speak, with the silver wire.
-=O=-***-=O=-
The clerk had an excellent visual memory. Eve clued into this the moment she stepped up to the small display counter with its riot of loose stones, silver coils, and empty settings under the glass. The clerk's eyes wheeled, his lips began to tremble. She heard his breath heave and initially feared a cardiac incident.
"Mrs. Roarke! Mrs. Roarke!"
His voice was heavily accented with what she thought might have been East Indian, but she was too busy wincing to worry about his origin.
"Dallas." She slapped her badge on the countertop. "Lieutenant Dallas."
"We are honored. We are unworthy." He began to shout something unintelligible to one of his associates. "Please, please. You will select anything you want in our humble establishment. As a gift. You like necklace? Bracelet? You like maybe earrings."
"Information. Only information."
"We take a picture. Yes? We see you many times onscreen, and hope for the day you might come into our unworthy shop." He piped something else to the young man who scrambled over with a miniature holo-camera.
"Hold it, hold it. Just hold it!"
"Your famous husband is not with you today? You are shopping, yes, with your companion. We will give also a gift to your companion."
"Yeah?" Delighted, Peabody edged closer.
"Shut up, Peabody. No, I am not shopping. This is police business. Police business."