Fantasy in Death (26 page)

“Your attorney can contact me directly if she wants to see a copy of the warrants.” She started out, giving a quick shake of her head in case Peabody spoke before they were clear of the building.

“Impressions?” Eve asked when they were in the vehicle.

“Well, Cill’s got a temper. A lot of heat there.”

“Passionate, territorial.”

“Yeah. Benny’s protective. He was pissed, too, but he pulled it back, tried to smooth it over with Cill.”

“He’s stuck on her.”

“Oh yeah, he is.” Peabody nodded. “Which makes him—since there’s no sign there’s anything going on there—controlled, maybe repressed. Var seemed rocked back on his heels initially, but he recovered. Pretty seriously pissed, too. He had to take a minute to pull himself together. Insulted. They all were. A lot of people react that way to search warrants. Each of them took a role. Nobody stepped forward and said okay, you do this, you do that, I’ll take care of the other thing. Nobody’s established a clear leadership role yet.”

“It’s subtle, but it’s there.” Eve shrugged. “Then again, maybe I’m looking for it, projecting it.”

“Something else. Insulted and pissed, yeah, but none of them seemed especially worried about what we might find.”

“Tracks covered. Detail-oriented. But people never cover their tracks as well as they think. We’re not going to walk in and find the murder weapon in the closet, or an e-diary of the plot. But I think it’s going to be interesting, whatever we do find. We’ll start at Cill’s.”

She pulled up at the nondescript three-story building. “You know, they all live within easy walking distance of work and each other. Bart, he goes for a little jazz. Doorman, penthouse, multilevel. Not so fancy inside, but the foundation is. Cill goes for the loft. A little more bohemian. Not as many people living inside the building.”

“Good building security though,” Peabody pointed out.

“Yeah. I bet she had a hand in that. Who’s on this one?”

“I put Jenkinson and Reineke—they’re pretty clear after closing a case this morning. I’ve got McNab with them. I’ll check on their ETA.”

“Do that,” Eve said as her own ’link signaled. She lifted her brows as she scanned the readout. “That was quick,” she commented. “It’s the lawyer. Dallas,” she said.

She did the dance, then signaled for Peabody to go ahead inside when the team arrived. Before she’d finished with the lawyer, Benny came down the sidewalk at a steady jog.

Changed his shoes, she noted. He’d been wearing dress shoes with his memorial suit, as had his partners. Now he bolted up the short steps to the entrance in black-and-white running shoes that showed some wear.

She slid her ’link back in her pocket as he keyed himself in.

He’d never even noticed her, she mused. Too focused on the mission at hand.

She went in, and up an elevator designed to resemble an old cage type. But its guts were fully 2060. She ordered Cill’s third-floor loft, and obeyed the computer’s request for her name, her business, then a badge scan.

The team had already begun their work when she stepped into a wide and open living area. Benny stood, hands in his pockets. Fists, she corrected. Seriously pissed.

“She’s very private with outsiders,” he said to Eve. “This has really spun her out. She’s already down, and now this.”

“We all do what we have to do. A lot of space,” she added, glancing around at the bright, cheerful colors, the framed comp art, the triple screens, the cushy chairs.

“So what? It’s not a crime to like space.”

“Never said it was. You’ll want to chill, Benny. It’s going to be a long day.”

She wandered through, glanced at the kitchen, which appeared to actually be used to cook. A few dishes scattered the counter, the sink.

Eve opened the fridge, noted some brews, some soft drinks—heavy on the power type—water, milk that had expired the day before, some sort of lettuce that seemed to be wilting.

Hasn’t been shopping for a while, she thought.

“Do you expect to find a clue in the damn fridge?” Benny demanded.

Eve closed it, turned so they were face-to-face. She read passion on his, as bold and bright as his red dreads. “This is going to be harder on you if you try to pick a fight with me. I don’t mind a fight, but you’re going to end up losing, and potentially being hauled down to Central for interfering with a legal search.”

She left him stewing to walk through the loft. Lots of space, she thought again, lots of comfort. No frills, but still subtly female. Plenty of toys, game systems.

At first glance the office appeared to belong to a disorganized teenager, but Eve saw the method under the clutter. She’d bet a month’s pay Cill could put her hands on exactly what she wanted. On the far side of the office from the workstation was a screen and several game systems.

She could work on something, then try it out right here. Do her testing, her tweaking.

No guest room, she noted. Not much on company.

In the single bedroom, the sheets on the unmade bed were a tangle, projecting restless nights.

“She just bought the suit and shoes she had on.” Peabody turned from the closet. “The bags are in here, with the receipt. Just yesterday. It’s kind of sad. She doesn’t have another black suit, or much black at all in here. So I guess she felt she needed to get something appropriate.”

“Good-sized closet for a woman who didn’t own a black suit until yesterday.”

“A lot of costumes—con-wear—and work clothes if you’re in e. Couple of formal things, a couple cocktail type things. But mostly it’s work and play.”

With a nod, Eve slid open a bedside drawer. She found what she thought of as basic female self-serve sex tools, a scatter of unused memo cubes, and an e-diary.

“She kept a journal.”

“That’s private.” Benny stood in the doorway, fury vibrating off his skin. “If she wrote something in there, it’s private.”

“There’s nothing private now. I don’t care about her personal thoughts, unless they pertain to the investigation. And you’re making me think I might find something here that does.”

“That’s off. That’s so off. You don’t know her. She’s never hurt anyone in her life.”

“Then she doesn’t have to worry. Detective, log this in, and see that it’s transported with the other electronics to Central.”

“Yes, sir.” Peabody took the diary, slipped out.

“You want to take me on, Benny?” Eve said quietly. “You’ve got the training, so it might be an interesting fight. Before you’re charged with assaulting a police officer, with obstruction of justice, with interfering with a legal search. Do you want to spend Bart’s memorial in a cage?”

“I’m never going to forget this. Never.” He spun around, walked away.

“Bet you won’t,” Eve murmured.

She left the bedroom, crossed the length of the loft to Cill’s holoroom. To satisfy herself, she tried the log. Was denied.

She went in search of McNab. “I want the data from the holo-log as soon as you can get it. I want to know when she last used it, and what she used it for.”

“No problem. This place.” He let out a low whistle. “These people know how to live.”

“Yeah. Until they don’t. Peabody,” she called out. “With me.”

She opted to walk, and though Benny’s building was only a half a block away, chose to cover the three blocks to Var’s.

“Who’s on this one?”

“I put Carmichael, Foster, Callendar on this one. It’s supposed to storm tonight. Do you think it’s going to storm?”

“How do I know? Do I look like a forecaster?”

“I’ve got these great shoes to wear to Nadine’s party, but if it rains and we get stuck getting a cab or have to walk to the subway, they’ll get screwed.” Peabody searched the sky for answers. “If it storms I need to wear these pretty mag boots, but they’re not new. Plus the shoes are so totally uptown.”

“Peabody? Your footwear is of absolutely no interest to me, and at the moment the source of mild annoyance.”

“Since it’s only mild, let me continue. I sprang for a new outfit, too. It seemed like a good excuse for one. Nadine’s book, fancy deal. And the Icove case was ours. I’m in the book and all that. I want to look complete. What are you wearing?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care.”

“You
have
to.” To bring the point home, Peabody stabbed Eve’s arm with her finger. “You’re like the star of the book.”

“I am
not
the star of the book.” The idea was horrifying. “The case is the star of the book.”

“Who was in charge of the case?”

“I’m going to show you my current footwear, Peabody, up close when my boot connects with your nose.”

“It’s usually my ass, so that’s a nice change.” She stopped, tipped down her shaded glasses to study Var’s building. “Post-Urban. One of those temps that became permanent. It’s in good shape, though. Good security again. He’s on the top two floors, roof access. I bet it’s a nice view from up on the roof.”

Inside, they rode up to ten.

“I bet you guys are taking a limo tonight,” Peabody said with some envy.

“I don’t know. I don’t care.”

“Easy not to care when you have a limo just by snapping your fingers.”

Eve sighed. She supposed it was. “Look, if I get you and McNab a limo will you stop whining, and say nothing more about your damn shoes or anything else about the damn party?”

Peabody let out a very uncoplike squeal and grabbed Eve in a hug before Eve could evade it. “Yes! Yes! Wow. Thanks, Dallas. Serious thanks. I can wear my new... I can stop having any concerns about the weather.”

Eve shoved her back, struggled to realign her dignity as they stepped out.

Var didn’t command the entire floor, but took the west side of it.

He went for more muted tones, she concluded. More masculine, and a style she found more restful than that of his other two partners. In furniture, he’d gone sleek leaning toward avant-garde, curved shapes, sharp angles.

Order, she mused, a certain style and clean to the point of shining. Unlike Cill he avoided clutter, but he shared her predilection for mega-e in comps, systems, screens, toys. A display held a collection of weapons—props, she noted, toys again. No reals.

She studied the contents of his fridge—all liquids. Wines, beers, soft and power drinks. He relied on the AutoChef for food and had that well-stocked. Like Bart’s, she mused, heavy on the pizza, burgers, tacos, sweets. Steaks, she noted, potato sides, big on fried.

Guy food.

“His place is neater than hers,” Peabody observed. “Seems more organized, and more stylish.”

“She has her own organizational style, but yes, tidier.”

She moved onto his office, where Callendar was already at work on the comps. She said, “Yo.”

“Nice setup.”

“Nice? Baby, it’s rocket. Like total command center. From the main comp, he can control all the systems, the screens, even the ones in other rooms. He can multitask, no problem, but he adds to those capabilities with the aux. Workstation’s equipped with built-in smart screen. Oh, he gets hungry? He can command the AutoChef here or in any of the rooms. Have one of the droids serve it up.”

“How many droids?”

“He’s got three, no human replicas, straight mechanical. I haven’t gotten there yet, but my guess is cleaning, serving, security, that kind of deal.”

“Get me everything there is to get.”

Callendar wiggled her shoulders. “Good thing I’d be happy staying here all day.”

Eve stepped out.

“You can see why they’re friends.” Peabody gestured toward the bedroom closet. “Lots of costumes, lots of work gear. He’s got better clothes than the woman, but basically it’s the same deal. And like hers, and the vic’s for that matter, this room like the rest of them is set up for lots of play. Not bedroom type play, game play. Not bedroom game play, but—”

“I get it, Peabody.”

The bed, a roomy platform with a padded headboard, was neatly made with a good all-weather duvet and a few plumped pillows.

“No sex toys,” she announced. “Memo cubes, unused, a couple of handheld games, over-the-counter sleep aid.”

“Bathroom kicks ass,” Peabody called out. “Bubble tub, multi-jet steam shower, sauna deck, music, screen and VR systems built in, drying tube, the works.”

“Check for meds and illegals.”

She toured the rest, the second bedroom outfitted for games, a small, well-outfitted home gym, and as she’d expected, a holo-room.

She gave Callendar the same instructions as she had McNab, called Peabody, then headed out to check the last space.

“Baxter, Trueheart, and Feeney,” Peabody told her before she asked. “Feeney wanted in.”

“He just wants to play with the toys. Impressions so far?”

“They live and work as they please, and they live their work. She’s busy, likes to have several things going at once, so she’s got clutter because she doesn’t necessarily finish one thing before going to the next. She does a little cooking and since she doesn’t have to, she must like it. No droids, which is kind of odd given what she does. I think it’s that privacy issue. When she’s in her personal space, she wants to be alone. He’s more streamlined, and pays more attention to style. The second bedroom’s set up for gaming, but he’s got a convertible sleep chair in there, just in case.”

“Okay. There’s our shadow.” Eve jutted her chin.

Across the street, Benny stood on the steps of his building, watching them come. As they approached, he jammed his hands in his pockets, hunched his shoulders, then walked quickly in the direction of Var’s apartment.

“He’s mad, but he’s sad, too. At least I think so,” Peabody added.

“You can kill and be both.”

Benny had gone for a loft, too, with a space that occupied the rear of the building, on two levels.

Peabody gaped as they entered. “Wow. It’s Commander Black’s quarters.”

“Who the hell is that?”

“Commander Black.
Star Quest.
This is a reproduction of his living quarters aboard the
Intrepid
.” Peabody ran her hand over the scrolled arm of a brown sofa. “It’s even got the burn marks from when Black had the blaster fight with Voltar. And look! That’s the old desk that was his great-grandfather’s, the first commander of the
Intrepid
.”