Part 4 (2/2)
She expected to get a personal visit from Nadine Furst before much longer. She'd deal with that when the time came. The fact was there was probably a way for her to use Channel 75's hotshot on-air reporter.
She programmed coffee and decided it was never too early to nag the ME or the lab.
She was arguing with the ME a.s.signed to her case, disgusted to be informed Chief Medical Examiner Morris was on leave, when she heard hoots and whistles erupt from the bull pen outside her office.
”I don't care if it is the summer crunch in your line of work,” Eve snapped. ”Sending in bodies doesn't happen to be my little hobby. I need results, not excuses.”
She broke transmission, decided her first a.s.s-kicking of the day put her in the perfect mood to b.i.t.c.h at the lab. Then scowled at the clicking sound approaching her office.
”Morning, Dallas.”
The stalwart Peabody, newly promoted to detective, no longer wore her spit-and-polish uniform. And Eve was discovering that was a d.a.m.n pity. Her st.u.r.dy body, which showed a lot more curves out of her blues, was decked out in a pair of pegged lavender pants, a snug purple top and a floaty sort of jacket that picked up both colors in thin stripes. Instead of her clunky and perfectly respectable cop shoes she had on pointy-toed purple shoes with short skinny heels.
Which explained the clicking.
”What the h.e.l.l have you got on?”
”Clothes. They're my clothes. I'm trying out different looks so I can settle on my particular work style. I'm thinking about new hair, too.”
”Why do you have to have new hair?” She was used used to Peabody's dark bowl of hair, d.a.m.n it. ”Why do people always have to have new hair? If you didn't like the old hair, why did you have the old hair? Then you won't like the new hair, and you'll have to have new new hair. It makes me crazy.” to Peabody's dark bowl of hair, d.a.m.n it. ”Why do people always have to have new hair? If you didn't like the old hair, why did you have the old hair? Then you won't like the new hair, and you'll have to have new new hair. It makes me crazy.”
”So much does.”
”And what the h.e.l.l are those?” She jabbed a finger at the shoes.
”Aren't they great?” She turned her ankle to show them off. ”Surprisingly comfortable, too.”
”Those are girl shoes.”
”Dallas, I don't know how to tell you this, but I am a girl.”
”My partner's not a girl. I don't have girl partners. I have cops. My partner is a cop, and those are not the shoes of a cop. You click.”
”Thanks, Lieutenant.” Peabody smiled down at herself. ”I do think it all works well together.”
”No, Jesus Christ in spandex. You click when you walk.”
”They just need to be broken in.” She started to sulk, then saw the case file, the crime-scene stills, on Eve's desk. ”What're you doing? Are you working on a cold case?”
”It's hot. I caught it yesterday, right before end of s.h.i.+ft.”
”You caught a case and you didn't tag me?”
”Don't whine. I didn't call you in because you had The Big Night. Remember how you kept saying it, like it was a vid t.i.tle? I know how to work a scene, Peabody. There was no reason to screw up your plans.”
”Despite your opinion of my shoes, I'm a cop. I expect to have my plans screwed.”
”This time they weren't. s.h.i.+t, I wanted you to have it. If you're going to make a big deal here, you're just going to p.i.s.s me off.”
Peabody folded in her lips. s.h.i.+fted her stance as the shoes weren't quite as comfortable as she'd claimed. Then she smiled. ”I'm not. I appreciate it. It was important to me, and McNab went to a lot of trouble. So thanks. We had a great time. I drank a little more than I should, so I'm a little fuzzy this morning. But a hit of real coffee should help that.”
She looked hopefully toward Eve's AutoChef, where there was real as opposed to the sludge disguised as coffee in the bull pen.
”Go ahead. Then sit down. I'll bring you up to speed.”
”Missing diamonds. It's like a treasure hunt,” Peabody decided. ”Like booty. It could be fun.”
Saying nothing, Eve pa.s.sed her one of the on-scene stills of Andrea Jacobs's body. Peabody let out a hiss between her teeth. ”Okay, not so much. No sign of forced entry? s.e.xual a.s.sault?”
”None apparent from the on-scene.”
”She could've brought someone home with her. Bad choice. People make them.”
”We'll check that out. I ran her debit card. Her last transaction, which looks like clearing the evening's tab, was at Club Six-Oh. Sixtieth and Second, at eleven fo rty-five on Thursday night. Estimated time of death was between midnight and one.”
”So she'd have gone straight to the Gannon residence from the club. If she had company, she found it there.”
”We're in the field,” Eve said, gathering the file. ”We talk to Gannon's ex, Jacobs's employer and coworkers, hit the club and swing by the morgue to hara.s.s people.”
”I always like that part. I get to flash my new badge,” she added as they walked out. She flipped her jacket open to reveal the detective's badge hooked to her waistband.
”Very nice.”
”My new favorite accessory.”
The powers-that-be at Tarbo, Cha.s.sie and Dix obviously subscribed to the theory that a display of excess drew in clients whose finances needed planning. The midtown offices were spread over four floors with a main information center the size of the Yankees' outfield. Eight young men and women, certainly hired as much for their perky good looks as their communication skills, manned an alarm-red island counter that could have housed a small suburb. Each wore a personal communicator and manned slick minidata and communication centers.
Each obviously practiced superior dental hygiene if their dazzling, identical smiles were any gauge.
Around them were smaller counters with more perky, toothy men and women in snappy suits, three waiting areas with cushy-looking chairs, equipped with screens for pa.s.sing the time with magazines or short vids, and a little, tastefully planted garden with its own tiny blue pool.
Bouncy, repet.i.tive music danced through the air at a discreet volume.
Eve decided she'd be in a padded room for mental defectives in under a week if she worked under similar conditions.
She walked to the main counter over a springy silver carpet. ”Chad Dix.”
”Mr. Dix is on forty-two.” The beaming brunette tapped her screen. ”I'll be happy to have one of his a.s.sistants escort you. If I might have your name, and the time of your appointment?”
Eve laid her badge on the glossy red counter. ”Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD. And I'd say my appointment is now. We can get up to forty-two ourselves, thanks, but you might want to tell Mr. Dix we're on our way.”
”But you have to be cleared for the elevator.”
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