Immortal in Death (In Death #3)(63)

“I’m a tolerant man. I can accept your dark spaces, Eve, just as you accept mine. Come on, let’s go to bed. You’ll sleep.” He brought her to her feet again. “And if you have nightmares, you won’t hide them from me.”

“No, not anymore. What is it?”

Eyes narrowed, he combed his fingers through her hair. “You did change it. Subtly, but charmingly. And there’s something else…” He rubbed a thumb over her jawline.

Eve wiggled her eyebrows, hoping he’d noticed their new improved shape, but he only continued to stare at her. “What?”

“You’re beautiful. Really quite beautiful.”

“You’re tired.”

“No, I’m not.” He leaned in, closed his mouth over hers softly in a long, lingering kiss. “At all.”

Peabody was staring, and Eve decided not to notice. She had coffee, and anticipating Feeney’s arrival had even come up with a basket of muffins. The shades were open to her own spectacular view of New York with its spearing skyline behind the lush green of the park.

She supposed she couldn’t blame Peabody for gaping.

“I really appreciate you coming here instead of to Cop Central,” Eve began. She knew she wasn’t running at full capability yet, just as she knew Mavis couldn’t afford for her to take any down time. “I want to get some of this business squared away before I clock in. As soon as I do, I imagine Whitney will call me up. I need ammunition.”

“No problem.” Peabody knew there really were people who lived like this. She’d heard of it, read of it, seen it on screen. And there was nothing particularly fabulous about the lieutenant’s rooms. They were nice, certainly — plenty of space, good furnishings, excellent equipment.

But the house. Jesus, the house. It went beyond the category of mansion into that of fortress, or maybe even castle. The green lawns, flowering trees, and fountains. There were all the towers, the sparkle of stone. That was before you were brought inside by a butler and blown away by marble and crystal and wood. And space. So much space.

“Peabody?”

“What? Sorry.”

“It’s all right. The place is pretty intimidating.”

“It’s incredible.” She swung her gaze back to Eve. “You look different here,” she decided, then narrowed her eyes. “You do look different. Hey, you got your hair cut. And the eyebrows.” Intrigued, she leaned closer. “A skin job.”

“It was just a facial.” Eve caught herself just before she squirmed. “Can we get down to it now, or do you want the name of my consultant?”

“Couldn’t afford it,” Peabody said cheerfully. “But you look good. You want to start primping up since you’re getting married in a couple weeks.”

“It’s not a couple weeks, it’s next month.”

“Guess you haven’t noticed that it’s next month now. You’re nervous.” Amusement flitted around Peabody’s mouth. “You never get nervous.”

“Shut up, Peabody. We’ve got homicide here.”

“Yes, sir.” Slightly ashamed, Peabody swallowed the smirk. “I thought we were killing time until Captain Feeney arrived.”

“I’ve got a ten o’clock interview with Redford. I don’t have time to kill. Give me the rundown of your progress at the club.”

“I have my report.” Back in the saddle, Peabody took a disc out of her bag. “I arrived at seventeen thirty-five, approached the subject known as Crack, and identified myself as your aide.”

“What did you think of him?”

“An individual,” Peabody said dryly. “He suggested I would make a good table dancer, as I appeared to have strong legs. I told him it wasn’t an option at this time.”

“Good one.”

“He was cooperative. In my judgment, he was angry when I informed him of Hetta’s death, and the means. She hadn’t worked there long, but he said she was good-natured, efficient, and successful.”

“In those words.”

“In the vernacular, Dallas. His vernacular, which is quoted in my report. He did not observe who she spoke with after the incident with Boomer as the club was crowded and he was busy.”

“Cracking heads.”

“Exactly. He did, however, point out several other employees and regulars who might have seen her with someone. I have their names and their statements. None noticed anything peculiar or out of the ordinary. One client believed he observed her going into one of the private booths with another man, but he didn’t recall the time, and his description is vague. ‘A tall dude.’”

“Terrific.”

“She clocked out at oh two fifteen, which was more than an hour earlier than her habit. She told one of the other companions that she’d made over her quota and was calling it a night. Flashed a fistful of credits and cash. Bragged about a new customer who believed in paying for quality. That was the last time she was seen at the club.”

“Her body was found three days later.” Frustrated, Eve pushed away from the table. “If I’d gotten the case sooner, or if Carmichael had bothered to dig… Well, that’s done.”

“She was well liked.”

“Did she have a partner?”