Calculated in Death (In Death #36)(95)

He’d had some work since his last ID shot. Chin implant, Eve deduced, which he’d opted to spotlight with a narrow, horizontal strip of sandy blond hair. His eyes, an eerie green, couldn’t stop drifting down to the display of Peabody’s generous br**sts. He’d chosen a neon rainbow of long dreads for his current hair style and wore what Eve thought of as typical geek baggies in pumpkin orange with a sunburst T-shirt that sat just as baggy on his skinny frame.

“Hi.” Peabody gave the syllable a breathless, baby-doll huff, smiling into those eerie eyes as she heard the orders to close in, move in, through her earbud. “I’m Dolly. I really like your hair. Abso-mag. Can I come in for, like, two minutes? I’m just frozen. See?”

She held out a hand, palm up so he’d see it was empty. Then expanded her lungs yet again when he set his own on it. “Oooh, you’re so warm. And so cute. Please, can I come out of the cold, use your ’link? I promise I won’t bite, unless you want me to.”

“Sure. We’ll work out that trade.”

When he opened the door wider, Peabody stepped in, then stopped, blocking him from shutting it. “Oh, ow! I hurt my ankle chasing after that prick.”

“Maybe you need to lie down.”

She giggled, gave him a teasing poke. “Maybe you could . . . warm me up before I borrow your ’link.”

“I’ll start here.” He reached out, closed his hand over her left breast. Peabody smiled at him, eased a little closer.

In one fast move she had him pressed face-first to the wall.

“Want to party rough?” he began.

“The party’s over,” Eve said as she stepped around Peabody and yanked Milo’s hands behind his back. “Milo Easton, you’re remanded into custody. We’ve got a lot of questions for you, Milo. Peabody, why don’t you read him his rights while we let the e-boys loose in this place.”

“You can’t just come in here. You can’t touch my stuff. You can’t—”

“Can, will, am,” Eve corrected. “You’re screwed, Milo. Take it apart,” she told McNab.

“Can’t wait.” But he took a moment to lay Peabody’s coat over her shoulders.

“Have the uniforms take him in, set him up,” she told Peabody. “We’ll let him cook a little while before we talk to him.”

Eve watched Peabody haul him out, then smiled at Roarke. “All for a pair of tits.”

“They are lovely ones.”

She only shook her head. “Men. I’m betting you want to stay here, get in on the geek extravaganza.”

“You couldn’t lure me away even with lovely tits.”

“Bet I could,” she said, then left him to it.

Eve boosted up the heat in her vehicle so the warm blasted when Peabody got in.

“Oh, oh God! This feels good. I was seriously freezing my tits off.”

“You did good, Dolly Darling.”

“I made up a little background so I’d be more believable.”

“As a licensed companion/stripper with a cheating boyfriend named Mickey.”

“Yeah. A guy’s going to figure his chances of getting laid are increased when it’s an LC. I mean, it’s my job to screw people. And the stripper deal? I figure guys are always fantasizing about women taking their clothes off, so it was a double tap. Oh, and Dolly Darling’s my stage name. I’d have gotten to that if he needed more. Do I get a bonus for letting him grab my boob?”

“Your boob, like the rest of you, belongs to the NYPSD. Besides, McNab’s going to ride you like a racehorse first chance. That’s your bonus.”

“You brought up sex and McNab!”

“This once, also your bonus.”

“I’ve got this outfit at home Dolly would wear. I’m going to put it on tonight and—”

“You didn’t earn that big a bonus. He’s going to lawyer up. We surprised him, confused him, so he didn’t start off yelling for one. But he’ll go that route.”

“We’ll have enough on him, and plenty to work a deal.”

“Yeah. I’d like to stall that for a bit. Why don’t you let the PA know we’ve got him in custody, and we’re going to start sweating him. I want that face match. We won’t have to deal if we can ID the muscle.”

“We’re running short on time before we have to notify the feds.”

“Tomorrow night, one way or the other. By tomorrow night we wrap it—or we bring them in.”

• • •

And she wanted to wrap it, Eve thought as she headed for Milo and Interview B. She really wanted to wrap it in a goddamn bow.

She stepped inside with Peabody—back in her jacket, her shirt primly buttoned. “Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Officer Delia, entering Interview with Easton, Milo. How’s it going, Milo?”

“I’ve got nothing to say.”

“Does that mean you’ve been read your rights and understand same?”

“I know my fricking rights. I want a lawyer. I don’t say a word without a lawyer.”

“That’s fine, no problem. Just some free advice. Word’s out that your . . . client, we’ll call him, is still cleaning house. You’re due to be swept up, Milo, so you’re going to want to be careful which lawyer you call in. Any connection to that client, it could mean we wasted our time saving your bony ass today.”