Holiday in Death (In Death #7)(12)

“Screen shopping doesn’t give you the same buzz.” Peabody braced a hand on the dash as Eve jerked to a stop in the fire lane right outside of Bloomingdale’s. “You can’t use the senses, or your elbows to jab people out of the way. There’s no sport in screen shopping.”

With a snort, Eve engaged her On Duty sign and stepped out of the car. Immediately her ears were assaulted with a blast of music. Christmas carols pumped, full blast, into the air. She decided that people ran inside, ready to buy anything, just to escape the noise.

Though the temperature in the computer-controlled environment hovered at a pleasant seventy-two, a light, synthetic snow swirled in the enormous dome. The windows of the department store were filled with costumed droids. Santas and elves labored away in a workshop, reindeer flew or danced on rooftops, young, golden-haired children with angelic faces unwrapped bright packages.

Behind another window, a teenage boy, decked out in the latest fashion trend of black unisuit and neon checked over-shirt, did circles and flips on his new Flyer 6000 airskate — this year’s hot-ticket item. A push of the button beside the glass would engage the recording of his excited voice hawking the skate’s options and virtues, as well as its price and location in the store.

“I’d like to try one of those suckers,” Peabody said under her breath as she followed Eve to the door.

“Aren’t you a little old for toys?”

“It’s not a toy, it’s an adventure,” Peabody said, reciting the tag line for the airskate.

“Let’s get this over with. I hate these places.”

The doors slid smoothly open and greeted them with a soothing promise: Welcome to Bloomingdale’s. You’re our most important customer.

Inside, the music continued to play, but at a lower volume. But the voice level rose, dozens of people speaking at once making a cacophony of sound that rose up and up, to echo off the ceiling, where angels soared in graceful circles.

It was a palace of consumption, with merchandise displayed temptingly on twelve glossy floors.

Droids and staff swept through the crowds modeling fashions, accessories, the hair- and body-styles that could be purchased in the salons. The electronic map just inside the door stood ready to guide customers to their heart’s desire.

Licensed child, pet, and elderly care facilities were located handily on the main level for those who didn’t care to shop with Junior, Fido, or Grandpa underfoot.

Mini-carts to carry customers, their purchases, or both were available for a small rental fee. Hourly or daily rates available.

A droid with hair in snaking, flame-colored ropes approached with a small crystal bottle.

“Keep that thing away from me,” Eve ordered.

“I’d like some.” Obligingly, Peabody tilted back her head so the droid could spritz some perfume on her throat.

“It’s called Do Me,” the droid purred. “Wear it, and prepare to be ravished.”

“Hmm.” Peabody angled her head toward Eve. “What do you think?”

Eve took one sniff, shook her head. “It’s not you.”

“Could be me,” Peabody muttered, trudging after her.

“Let’s try to keep our focus here.” Eve took Peabody’s arm as her aide paused at a cosmetic counter where a woman was being painted with sparkling gold from the neck up. “Let’s hit the men’s department, see if we can find out who waited on Hawley day before yesterday. She used credit so they’d have her address.”

“I could finish up my Christmas shopping in about twenty minutes.”

“Finish it?” Eve turned back as they stepped on the people guide going up.

“Sure, I’ve only got a couple of little things left.” Peabody pursed her lips, then bit the inside of her cheek to hold back the grin. “Haven’t started yet, have you?”

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

“What are you getting Roarke?”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Eve said again and jammed her hands in her pockets.

“They’ve got great clothes here.” Peabody nodded toward the display droids as they turned left on the glide toward Men’s Casual Wear.

“He’s got a closet the size of Maine full of clothes already.”

“Have you ever bought him any?”

Eve felt her shoulders hunch defensively and straightened her spine. “I’m not his mother.”

Peabody paused by a droid modeling a dull silver silk shirt and black leather trousers. “He’d look good in this.” She fingered the sleeve. “Of course, Roarke would look good in anything.” She wiggled her brows at Eve. “Guys really love having a woman buy them clothes.”

“I don’t know how to buy clothes for somebody else. I barely know how to buy them for myself.” When she caught herself trying to imagine Roarke’s face and body in place of the droid’s, she hissed out a breath. “And we’re not here to shop.”

Scowling, she strode straight to the first checkout counter, then slapped her badge on it under the nose of the clerk.

He cleared his throat and tossed his long black hair over his shoulder. “Is there something I can do for you, Officer?”

“Lieutenant. You had a customer a couple of days ago, Marianna Hawley. I want to know who waited on her.”