Holiday in Death (In Death #7)(23)

Inside she went directly to a tube, stepped in, hooked her thumbs in her pockets, and tolerated the ride up to the office level of Personally Yours.

Manning the greeting desk was a young god with shoulders the size of mountains, skin the color of rich Swiss chocolate, and eyes like antique gold coins.

“Stop vibrating,” Eve muttered, and Peabody only grunted in response.

“Tell Rudy and Piper Lieutenant Dallas and aide are here.”

“Lieutenant.” His smile was dreamy and slow. “I’m sorry, but Rudy and Piper are in client consultations.”

“Tell them I’m here,” Eve repeated. “And that they’re minus another client.”

“Of course.” He gestured to the waiting area to the left. “Please make yourselves comfortable. Feel free to order up some refreshment while you wait.”

“Don’t keep me waiting long.”

He didn’t. Within five minutes, and before Peabody could weaken enough to order up something called a Raspberry Cream Froth, both Rudy and Piper stepped into the lobby area.

They were in white again, ankle dusters this time, with Piper jazzing hers up with a blue silk sash. Each wore a single gold hoop in the right ear — one the mate of the other.

It made Eve’s skin crawl.

“Lieutenant.” Rudy spoke, keeping a hand on Piper’s shoulder. “We’re a bit rushed this morning. Our schedule’s very full.”

“It just got fuller. You want to do this here, or in private?”

The faintest hint of irritation flickered in Rudy’s exotic eyes, but he gestured gracefully toward the hallway leading to their offices.

“Sarabeth Greenbalm,” Eve began the minute the door shut at her back. “She was found murdered yesterday. She was one of yours.”

“Oh God, oh my God.” Instantly Piper collapsed in a wide white chair and covered her face with her hands.

“Hush now.” Rudy ran a hand over Piper’s hair, caressed the back of her neck. “You’re certain she was a client?”

“Yes. I want her matches. Which one of you worked with her?”

“I would have.” Piper dropped her hands in her lap. The deep green eyes glinted with threatening tears, her pale gold mouth trembled. “I work with the female applicants, Rudy with the male unless otherwise requested. In general we find that people are more comfortable discussing romantic and sexual needs with a member of the same sex.”

“Okay.” Eve kept her eyes on Piper’s face and tried not to notice the way her hand crept up until it was swallowed by her brother’s.

“I remember her. Sarabeth. I remember her because she was dissatisfied with the first two matches. She wanted a full refund.”

“Did she get one?”

“We have a firm policy against refunds once the client has begun to explore the matches.” Rudy gave his sister’s hand a reassuring squeeze, then walked to his console.

“I see. Neither of you mentioned that you owned the company.”

“You didn’t ask,” Rudy said simply as he called up the data Eve had requested.

“Who besides the two of you would have access to client data?”

“We have thirty-six consultants,” Rudy began. “After the initial screening, which Piper and I deal with personally, applicants are assigned to the consultant who most suits their needs. Our consultants are screened, trained, and licensed, Lieutenant.”

“I want their names, full data.”

His eyes shuttered, seemed to frost. “I can’t agree to that. That kind of invasion into the privacy of our staff is insulting.”

Eve angled her head. “Peabody, request a warrant, search and seizure of all records, personnel and client lists, for Personally Yours. Log in reports on the Hawley and Greenbalm cases, and request warrant be issued directly to me through my communicator. And put a rush on it.”

“Right away, Lieutenant.”

“Rudy.” Rubbing her hands together, Piper rose. “Is this necessary?”

“I think it is.” He held out a hand, taking hers when she crossed to him. “If our records are to be part of a police investigation, I want it all to be documented. I apologize for what might seem like a lack of cooperation and compassion, Lieutenant Dallas, but I have a great many people to protect.”

“So do I.” When the communicator beeped, Piper jolted. “Excuse me.” Eve turned her back to them and slipped it out of her pocket. “Dallas.”

“We tagged the makeup used on Hawley.” Dickie scowled out of the screen. “Brand name’s Natural Perfection. High-dollar shit, like I figured.”

“Nice work, Dickie.”

“Yeah, it cost me overtime, and I got Christmas shopping to do. Prelim indicates the stuff on Greenbalm was the same brand. You gotta buy this crap through salons or an enhancement center. Can’t get it in regular stores, even high-end ones, or off screen.”

“Good, that’ll make it easier to trace. Who manufactures?”

His scowl transformed into a wide, wicked grin. “Renaissance Beauty and Health, a division of Kenbar, which is an arm of Roarke Industries. Don’t you know what your old man’s up to, Dallas?”

“Hell” was all Eve said, and she cut the transmission before she turned around. “Any of the salons in this building sell Natural Perfection products?”