Holiday in Death (In Death #7)(24)

“Yes.” Piper leaned against Rudy in a way that made Eve’s stomach roll over. “That line is showcased in All Things Beautiful on the tenth level.”

“Are you connected with the salon?”

“It’s a separate business, but we maintain relationships with all the salons and shops in the building.” Rudy moved to the console, opened a compartment, and selected a glossy, fold-out brochure and attached disc. “Packages including salon work and gift certificates are available with consults here,” he said as he offered Eve the material.

“All Things Beautiful,” he continued, “is the most exclusive salon in the building. They also offer packages which include a consult with us in their Diamond Day plan.”

“Handy.”

“It’s good business” was Rudy’s response.

“Warrant approved, Lieutenant.” Peabody tucked her own communicator away again. “Processing transmission now.”

“Feed all that data to McNab,” Eve ordered Peabody when they were in the tube again.

“All of it?”

Eve didn’t spare much sympathy despite Peabody’s wide, shocked eyes. “All. Start with the matches on Greenbalm, then give him personnel. Go from there into client list, go back one year. I have a feeling our man is living pretty much in the present.”

“That’s going to take twenty or thirty minutes.”

“Then find yourself a quiet spot and get started. I get off here. Meet me in the salon when you’ve finished uploading data.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And buck up, Peabody. Pouting’s not attractive.”

“I’m not pouting,” Peabody said with some dignity. “I’m gritting. As in my teeth.” She sniffed audibly as the tube whooshed shut again.

The salon level smelled of forests and meadows. The sound system piped in soft, tinkling music of lyres and flutes. Underfoot was a carpet the color and consistency of crushed rose petals. The walls were dull silver and drenched with the slowly streaming flow of water that fed into a narrow canal that circled the entire floor. Palm-sized swans in pastel hues glided over its surface.

There were six salons in all, each with glass-fronted archways arbored with exotic vines. Eve recognized the reproduction of the Immortal blossom that had been trained to spiral up a thin, gilded curve that haloed the entrance of All Things Beautiful.

Figures, she thought. That particular bloom had caused her quite a bit of trouble once upon a time.

The doors parted fluidly as she approached. Inside, the lobby area was wide and sumptuous, with deep, cushioned scoop chairs in pale greens. Each was fitted with its own mini-screen and communication system. Statuary and sculpture ran to bronze nudes.

Small serving droids scooted here and there, carrying refreshments, reading material, VR goggles, and whatever else clients ordered for their amusement while they were beautified.

Two of the chairs were occupied by women who chatted absently and sipped something that looked like seafoam while they waited for their treatments. Both wore plush shell-pink robes with the salon’s name discreetly etched on the lapel.

“May I help you, madam?” The woman behind a U-shaped console gave Eve’s battered jeans, scarred boots, and untidy hair a slow, measuring study out of glittering silver eyes. The eyes matched the S-shaped streaks snaking through her wedge of triangular magenta hair. “I assume you’re looking for our Complete Woman package?”

Eve smiled pleasantly. “Is that a dig?”

The woman blinked with a flurry of silver lashes. “I beg your pardon?”

“Never mind, sister. I want to talk about your Natural Perfection line.”

“Yes, of course. It’s the very best cosmetic and enhancement line money can buy. I’ll be happy to arrange for a consultant to speak with you. Would you care to make an appointment?”

“Yeah.” Eve slapped her badge on the console. “Now would be good.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can see that. Get me whoever runs this place.”

“Excuse me a moment.” The woman shifted on her high stool and spoke softly into her ‘link. “Simon, could you come up front please?”

With her thumbs in her front pockets, Eve rocked back on her heels and studied the elegant bottles and tubes in the revolving display behind the console. “What’s all that?”

“Personalized scents. We feed your personality and physical traits into a program and create a scent that is uniquely you. The container is your choice. Each is one of a kind and, once selected, will never be made again.”

“Interesting.”

“They make thoughtful gifts,” she arched a razor-thin brow, “but are quite exclusive and expensive.”

“Really?” Irritated by the sarcasm, Eve sent her a tawny, slitted stare. “I want one.”

“Naturally the purchase must be prepaid before programming.”

Seriously riled, Eve imagined grabbing a handful of that stiff, streaked hair and rapping the perfect, sneering face firmly against the console. She took one step forward as hurried footsteps sounded on the floor behind her.

“Yvette, what seems to be the problem? I’m swamped back there.”

“She’s the problem,” Yvette said with a thin smile, and Eve turned and got a full blast of the magnificent Simon.