Fantasy in Death

  “A place for unregistered. I thought of that as well. Then again, some people are inherently honest.”

  “Present company excepted.”

  He smiled at her. “Murder’s the ultimate in dishonesty, isn’t it? So yes, there may very well be another place. Well, good hunting.” He flicked her chin again, kissed her mouth. “I’ve work of my own. Don’t forget Nadine’s party,” he added as he walked to his own car.

  “I can remember more than one thing at a time.”

  He uncoded his locks, smiling at her over the roof. “What time does it start?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Eight. I’ll see you at home.”

  “Wait. Shit. I promised Peabody a limo if she’d stop talking about her shoes.”

  “Naturally. I’ll take care of it.”

  “It’s your own fault,” she called out. “You make it too easy.”

  “Darling Eve, there’s enough hard in the world.”

  She couldn’t argue. She glanced back at the warehouse, thought of flowers and food and tears. There was plenty of hard in the world.

  She was deep into the search for a second space, playing with alternate names, anagrams, hidden meanings while running her own scenarios on secondary when Peabody tagged her.

  “We finished up here, and I’ve checked in with the other teams. Flagged electronics are on their way in for analysis.”

  “I want that diary.”

  “McNab’s working on it. He’s decided it’s his personal mission to get past her journal security. We’re going to head home from here, if that’s okay. We’re already cutting it a little close.”

  “Cutting what?”

  “Prep time for Nadine’s party. Oh, and thanks again for the limo!” Peabody added as Eve thought, Shit, damn, fuck. “Summerset contacted me with all the info. So, we’ll see you at the do.”

  “Yeah, right.” Eve cut Peabody off, saved all current data, ordered the whole works copied to her home office unit.

  And fled.

  She wasn’t late, she told herself as she slammed the brakes in front of the house. She had plenty of time since she didn’t take hours to primp in front of a damn mirror. Besides, nobody got to one of these deals on time.

  Which made no sense to her. Why have a time, then ignore it?

  Social functions were unwieldy and strange, and had their own set of rules that were even more unwieldy and strange.

  She burst into the house, started to curl her lip at Summerset, then stopped and stared. He wore black—big surprise—but not his usual gear. He wore formal black, tuxedo black with a white shirt that looked as stiff as his neck.

  “You might save the excuses for another time,” he began. “You’ll need all you have left to transform yourself.”

  “Why are you wearing that monkey suit?”

  “It’s a formal affair.”

  “You’re going?”

  He inclined his head. “Yes, and as I’ll be on time, I’ll explain to your friend why you are, as usual, late. They’re waiting for you.”

  “I’m going. I’m going.” She dashed to the steps. “They?” she repeated, but Summerset had dematerialized.

  “He can’t be human,” she muttered, and hurried up to the bedroom.

  “I’m not late because everybody goes late, which is only another reason why—” She broke off in sheer horror. “What’s she doing here?”

  Trina, all slitty eyes and exploding red hair, lifted what sure as hell looked like a glass of champagne. She sipped, long and slow.

  “If you think you’re going to this shindig wearing that hair, somebody must’ve stunned you with your own weapon. We’re set up in that palace you guys call a bathroom.”

  “I don’t have time. We’re going to be late.”

  Trina’s smile sent a fast chill down Eve’s spine. “Everybody goes late,” she said, echoing Eve’s initial excuse. “It’ll take me about twenty minutes, because I’m a frigging genius.” She pointed a silver-tipped finger before Eve could speak. “I’ve got a rep. I’ve got a salon. I do Nadine’s hair for Now—and I finished her about an hour ago. Most who know anything know I have your hair.”

  “I have my hair.” Eve tugged it. “It’s attached to my head.”

  “You skated out before I could take care of it at Louise’s deal—murder and all that,” she added. “And it looks like somebody hacked it with an ice pick. Are you going to this mag deal with that hunk of superior man-flesh looking like you’ve been in a fight with a farm animal?”

  “I thought it was an ice pick.”

  “A farm animal with an ice pick. Do you look better when I’ve worked you or not?”

  Eve opened her mouth, tracked her gaze over to Roarke. Let it burn there.

  “I have nothing to say, whatsoever.”

  “Superior man-flesh with a brain,” Trina said approvingly. “You hit the jackpot squared, Dallas. Now get your skinny ass in that bathroom.”

  Trina flounced, on five-inch heels shaped like the heart Eve wasn’t certain she had, into the bathroom.

  “Traitor.” The word was low, vibrating with dark.

  “Completely out of my hands. You can turn your knife in Summerset, as you’re wont to do in any case. He let her in.”

  “Dallas! You don’t want me to come out there.”

  Eve’s shoulders hunched. “I’ll deal with you later,” she promised and marched in to face the music. “Just make it fast,” she told Trina. “And don’t—”

  “Do I tell you how to track down killers?”

  “Crap.” Eve dropped into the portable salon chair Trina could-n’t have gotten up there by herself. One of them had helped her, Eve thought. And they would pay.

  “It’s a big night,” Trina began as she swirled a protective cape over Eve. “Nadine looks abso fab, thanks to me. And so will you.” She pulled a lock of Eve’s hair between her fingers. “Nice and clean. Good.”

  She pulled it back, secured it, then lowered the chair to half recline.

  “Wait a minute,” Eve said as Trina pumped some foam from bottle to palm. “You said hair.”

  “Your hair’s attached to your head, remember? Your face is part of your head. You’re getting a lightning facial. That’s all we have time for.”

  “What’s wrong with my face?”

  “You’ve got a good one, and we’re going to keep it that way. Give it up, close your eyes and it’ll go faster.”

  Stuck, Eve closed her eyes. She’d never be able to explain, she supposed, how weird and creepy it was to have somebody rubbing and stroking her face—unless it was Roarke. And he didn’t put goop all over her while he was doing it.

  “Wait till you see Mavis. Leonardo designed a killer outfit for her. I did them this afternoon, and got to play with Bella. She’s the baby girl of all baby girls. Almost makes me want one. Mavis is going to help Peabody with her ’do since I’m up here.”

  Eve let the words slide in and out of her brain while she tried not to think about what gunk and goo was going on her face and hair.

  The chair vibrated lightly under her, massaging muscles she hadn’t realized were so tight, so tired. She didn’t realize she’d dozed off until Trina brought the chair upright again.

  The snipping and tugging and combing, and gunking began. It didn’t seem to take long, but she couldn’t check because her wrist unit was under the cape, and she was afraid to move while Trina’s sharp tool clicked around her.

  Trina stepped back, took the last sip of champagne. “Okay. Totally ult, low on the flash, up on the class.” She put away her tools, then swirled the cape off. “Up, up. I’ve got to rock.”

  She set her cases on the seat of the chair Eve vacated. “See you there,” she said, and rolled the chair away.

  Cautious, Eve turned to the mirror.

  Her hair lay sleek against her head instead of tousled, and whatever Trina had plastered on it to get it sleek brought out the lighter shades so it looked just a little streaky. She ran a hand over
it, relieved when it felt like her regular hair.

  Her eyes looked bigger—but that was all the crap Trina had smudged on. Her cheekbones looked a little sharper, her lips more defined.

  “Still you under there,” she murmured. “It’s just a kind of illusion. Or . . . a costume.”

  “I trust she didn’t knock you unconscious to . . .” Roarke paused in the doorway, then stepped in for a closer study. “She is very good at her work. It’s a different look for you, but lovely and a bit elegant. Very suitable for the occasion. Here, I thought you’d need this after your ordeal.”

  He handed her a glass of champagne.

  “I guess I’m now worthy of superior man-flesh.”

  “I feel so objectified,” he said as she took the first sip.

  “You ate it up with a spoon.” She took another sip, and a long look when he laughed. “But you do look pretty superior. And since you’re already dressed I’d better get my skinny ass moving.”

  “I adore your skinny ass.” He gestured toward the bed when they went out. “If you don’t care for the dress we’ll find another.”

  She would have called it yellow, but it wasn’t accurate. It was deeper, richer than yellow. Not brown, not that deep, but something that blended both into the tawny. It had light, she mused. Not sparkle or shine, just light. No fuss, no flounce—to her relief—just a column as sleek as her hair, and at a touch of her finger, as fluid as water.

  “I’d be stupid not to care for it. I’m not stupid. And I’m also smart enough to know I’m lucky you think about things like this so I don’t have to.”

  “I enjoy it; you don’t. Leonardo does exceptional work, and he knows your body, your style, and your preferences.”

  She couldn’t argue with that, especially after she’d put it on. The material simply slid down, light as air, leaving her shoulders bare and giving her breasts a bit more of a boost than she thought they deserved.

  But the hidden pockets in the side seams distracted and pleased her. She could easily tuck her clutch piece in one, her badge in the other.

  What else did a woman need?

  “You’ll want these.” Roarke handed her earrings—canary diamonds in long teardrops—and a cuff that married yellow diamonds with white. She added the necklace herself, the Giant’s Tear diamond he’d given her the day he’d told her he loved her.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Sparkly, she thought, shimmery, and a little sleek. A costume, she thought again. Everyone wore them.

  “It’s hard not to look good with all this. What color is this thing?” She brushed a hand down the dress. “I can’t figure it.”

  “It should be easy for you, as you look at it every day.” He stepped behind her, laid his hands on her shoulders. “It’s your eyes.” He laid his cheek against hers for a moment while she frowned. “We’d better be off or we’ll be more than fashionably late.”

  “Why is late fashionable?”

  “I suppose because it gives the impression you have so many things to do you couldn’t possibly be on time.”

  “Hah. Who knew? I’m almost always fashionable.” She held out her hand. “Come on, man-flesh. We’ve got to rock.”

  Music rang from the rooftop and into the deepening skies. People glittered and gleamed and glided, bussing each other’s cheeks, chattering happily over bubbling wine. Candles, already lighted, flickered. The wind was picking up, Eve noted.

  They were likely to get that storm before it was done.

  “They’re going to want to close the dome before long,” Eve said to Roarke.

  “We might as well enjoy the night air while we can. You’ll want to congratulate Nadine.”

  “She’s surrounded.” And Trina had been right. Nadine looked abso fab in siren red, her hair artfully tumbled and scattered with sparkling pins that caught the last light of the sun. “I’ll wait until she’s got some breathing room.”

  “You’re here!” Peabody, her hand caught in McNab’s, hurried over on the famous shoes. They were silver, opened at the toe to show off pale pink toenails, strapped multiple times at the ankles, and as sparkly as Nadine’s pins.

  “Isn’t this mag? Total. Everybody’s here, and Nadine’s so happy. The music’s completely hot, and Mavis said she’s agreed to do a number later. Gosh,” she said after she’d taken a moment to breathe. “You guys look beautiful. Seriously.”

  “You couldn’t look lovelier.” Roarke took Peabody’s hand and kissed it. “You’re a lucky man, Ian.”

  McNab grinned. “Damn right, and if things go my way I’ll get luckier later.”

  Peabody giggled and elbowed him.

  Eve heard the squeal and turned. No one squealed like Mavis Freestone squealed. Her hair, summer blond and cotton-candy pink, bounced down her back as she bulleted—on the towering toothpicks held on her feet by two skinny crisscrossing straps— toward Eve. Her pink gown, caught at the hip with an enormous jeweled pin, flowed and flared with a slit that showed her pretty leg right up to the hip.

  “I knew that dress would be Triple T on you!” She danced into Eve’s arms, then back again. “This is the juiciest party, and look at us! We’re the juice. Moonpie! Come see what your dress does for Dallas.”

  Moonpie—or Leonardo—walked over in his version of a tux. The long, smoked silver coat suited his coppery skin and his considerable size. That same silver wound here and there through the rich copper curls that fell around his wide, fascinating face.

  “It’s what Dallas does for the dress. I hope you like it.”

  “It’s terrific. Thanks for the pockets.”

  He smiled at her, kissed her cheek. “I thought you’d like having them. Let me get you all a drink.”

  “I’ll help you with that,” Roarke said, and after another Peabody elbow poke, McNab went with them.

  “Hey, there’s Trina. Be right back,” Peabody said. “I need to ask her a hair question.”

  “You sicced Trina on me, didn’t you?”

  Mavis rounded midnight blue eyes in innocence. “Don’t you have to read me my rights before you question me?”

  “Another smartass. Speaking of reading you your rights, we go back.”

  “Yeah, to when you first arrested me on the grift. Now look at me. I’m a married woman and a mommy, and I’ve got a career. I didn’t have to steal any of it. Life’s twisty keen.”

  “At least. I’ve been friends with you longer than I’ve been friends with anyone.”

  “Double back at you.”

  “So, we’re tight, and we know each other about as well as people ever do. You could say we love each other, in a nonlesbian lifestyle way.”

  “We might’ve done the les, if we’d gone a really long time without men. If we, like, washed up on a deserted island for months, or—”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’d be the first I’d jump,” Eve said and made Mavis snicker. “But what I’m wondering is, what would it take, what would I have to do to make you want to kill me. Literally kill, not think ‘I could kill Dallas for that.’”

  “Oh, easy. If you did the steamy pretzel with my honey bear, I’d stick the first sharp implement I could find in your heart, and in his balls. I’d probably be sorry after, but too late.”

  “That’s it? Sex with Leonardo is the only reason you’d want me dead? Think about it,” Eve insisted. “What if I stole from you, or insulted you, made fun of you on a regular basis.”

  “Okay.” Mavis tipped her head side-to-side in thinking mode. “If you stole from me you’d need whatever you took really bad. If you insulted me you’d piss me off and I’d insult you back. If you made fun of me you’d hurt my feelings and I’d tell you to knock it off.”

  “So the only reason you’d stick a knife in me—”

  “Or a really sharp nail file. Maybe a kebab skewer. That would be, like, inventive. See, you were doing the steamy with my cuddle-up in the kitchen, so I just grabbed what was there. Murder by kebab skewer, and I’d get off on the temporary whacked.”


  Fixing rage on her face, Mavis demonstrated by pumping a fist toward Eve’s heart.

  “It’s a good one. Anyway, the only reason you’d plunge that kebab skewer in me is the blind passion of the moment?”

  “Yeah, so remember that if you ever get ideas about my baby doll, ’cause I’d kebab your ass.”

  “So warned.”

  Mavis grinned her sparkling grin. “Speaking of babies. You’ve got to see this mini vid of Bellamia.” Mavis opened a tiny bag the same pink as her hair and the shape of a tulip.

  Eve laid a hand on hers. “You wouldn’t do it even then. You might want to, even think it, and you’d hate me, but you wouldn’t kill me.”

  “I’d really want to, but no. But you’d never go after my man because you’d never hurt me that way, ever, much less cheat on Roarke. Real friends, real lovers don’t do that shit to each other. Not the reals.”

  “Exactly. You’re exactly right. Okay. Let’s see the vid.”

  17

  Eve didn’t know if Bella was the baby girl of all baby girls as she didn’t have much experience with babies of either variety. But the kid was ridiculously pretty, especially if you overlooked the drool.

  Still, she was happy to be spared watching Bella clap her hands, blow kisses, and babble a second time as the men came back with drinks. She cornered McNab while Roarke was treated to Bella’s goos and giggles and baby-spit kisses.

  “What’s the status on the journal?”

  “She’s tricky. I got through the first level, but she put another layer on. Paranoid—and really good.”

  “I could probably get a court order for her to open it.”

  “And suck out my fun? Give me a couple more hours.”

  “If you don’t have it by eleven hundred, I’m going to see what Reo can do. A woman who lives alone in a secured apartment who keeps a journal with that kind of protection has something to hide.”

  “Everything in her place is locked down double, even her house ’link. Again, can you say paranoid? Callendar and Feeney said the other two were overcovered, but this one? It’s like Global Security.”