Obsession in Death (In Death #40)(79)

“I’m filing a complaint!” Farmer shouted.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Eve strode out, pleased to be amused this time instead of depressed and angry. “Let’s check in with Charlie, just to close the door, but she’s not who we’re after.”

“Everybody’s after her.”

“Must be a constant trial.” Eve opted to walk, let the cold blow her brain clear again. “She’s smart enough, and she has strong e-skills, but she’s too obsessed with sex. No sexual component at all in the kills, and with her there would be.”

Eve stopped at a cart along the walk. “I’ve still got enough to spring for a cart lunch.”

“You’re just paying to distract me. Because you want to ogle my tits.”

“Always, Peabody. Always.”

16

By sixteen hundred, Eve felt she’d covered all the ground and all the potentials that made sense.

She considered her options, didn’t care for any of them.

“Peabody, book a holoroom at Central.”

“Really?” Surprised delight flashed over Peabody’s face. “You never use frosty tech like a holoroom.”

“I’ve used Roarke’s a few times. I want to walk through it, all three scenes. One, two, three. Something might pop out rolling through them one after the other.”

“Checking on it… There’s one, and only one, open in ten minutes for forty minutes. The big one’s booked straight through until twenty hundred hours, and the second one’s out of order – again. McNab says it’s glitchy more than not. Booking it now. We’ve got a couple of the booths free, but that’s the only room.”

She only needed one.

Because she wanted the full time, Eve headed straight there, suffered the elevators jammed by the eight-to-four, four-to-midnight changes of shift.

The Holo and VR sector was quiet, and clean. No Vending was offered, and signs were posted along the corridor as reminders that food and drink were forbidden in the rooms.

Others warned that all activity in said rooms would be monitored and recorded.

One way to discourage personal use if a cop had an urge to virtually lie naked on a beach, or get it on with a fellow officer, visitor, or tech.

There were ways around it, of course, and rumor was the second holoroom was routinely glitchy because somebody messed with the monitors so they could lie on the beach or get it on.

As Eve rarely used the facilities, she didn’t much care.

She swiped her master in the slot, waited while it was scanned and approved.

Dallas, Lieutenant Eve approved. Time and facility booked by Peabody, Officer Delia. Approved, the computer announced after Peabody also swiped in.

They stepped into the empty room with its white, windowless walls and white floors. Eve moved to the wall comp as Peabody secured the door.

Eve keyed in the three case files, in order, programmed a reenactment, most probable, in sequential order.

Elements accepted, system analyzing. Facial details on suspect incomplete.

“Use the sketches.”

Coordinating artist renditions, merging. Remaining data is being uploaded.

“I saw this vid where these four people were fooling around in a holoroom and got stuck there in like this swampy jungle place – except one of them who got tossed in some urban underworld. And there was this guy with an ax who…”

Peabody trailed off as she looked around the white room. “And maybe I shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. We could end up in a swampy jungle. Anyway it was called HoloHell. They’re doing the sequel now.”

“If some guy comes at you with an ax, stun him,” Eve suggested.

Upload complete, program to commence in ten seconds. You have thirty-four minutes, eighteen seconds remaining on your reservation.

“Fine, fine, fine. Go.”

Program to commence in three seconds, two seconds, one second.

Eve followed the killer to the door of Bastwick’s building. She noted the fading light of the late December evening, the computer-generated traffic noises. She watched the gloved hand press the buzzer, and the casual ease of the door opening.

“What do you suppose she’s feeling?” Eve wondered as she stepped onto the elevator with the killer. “If this is the first time – and we’ve got no reason to believe it isn’t, doesn’t she feel nerves? Excitement? Something? But her hands are steady. She shifts and angles the box so easy, like it’s choreographed in her head.”

“No hesitation,” Peabody commented. “No rush either.”

“Everything about her says pay no attention, and no one did. But attention’s what she wants. Maybe most of all.”

“Yours.”

“Yeah, to start.”

Bastwick, in her classy loungewear, opened the door. Bastwick’s mouth moved, and the program gave her voice.

All right. Just put it on the

Her last words as the killer stepped in, drawing the stunner from the right pocket. Center mass, full stun. Bastwick’s nervous system went haywire so her body convulsed, perfectly manicured hands flapping. She crumpled, fell back, went down. The head smacked against the floor. Eyes stared for a second, another, before rolling up white, then the lids came down.

Following the scenario Eve had laid out, the killer – the face an almost cartoon-like sketch – set the box on a table, took a box cutter from the left pocket of the coat, broke the seal.