Visions in Death (In Death #19)(41)

"You can't imagine what it gives me," Eve said, and walked away when Peabody snorted.

Chapter Nine

They spent a couple of hours talking to men with big pecs and tree-trunk legs in workout facilities that carved out the frills and concentrated on the testosterone.

Peabody's main complaint was that a large percentage of the members seemed to be more interested in ogling themselves or each other rather than a certain police detective.

It was a fishing expedition, Eve thought as she swung toward home. And she didn't feel any appreciable tugs on her line. Yet.

She'd start running names, that's all. The few hundred of them she'd compiled from membership and subscription lists. See if she got any pops on sex crimes. He hadn't started down his current path yesterday.

He'd be single, so that would eliminate more. He wasn't g*y, or hadn't recognized himself as such. He didn't work nights; that's when he killed.

No human hair recovered on the victim or from the murder or dump sites. Had he sealed up that thoroughly, or did he—like some of the obsessive body guys she'd seen today—regularly remove his head and body hair?

She could almost, almost, get a picture of him in her head.

Trying to define it, she turned toward the gates of home. Then was forced to stomp on the brakes when they remained shut.

"Summerset, you prick."

She lowered the window, barked into the intercom. "Open the damn gates, you rat-faced, pointy-assed—"

"One moment, please. Your voice print is being identified."

"I'll give you my voice print. I'll give you my voice print all over your—"

She broke off again, hissing as the gates slid open. "Thinks he's got a new trick up his sleeve to bust my chops. Thinks he's going to keep me stewing outside the gates now while he runs his little game. If he had balls, I'd kick them into his throat."

She slammed out of the car, jogged up the steps and burst into the house ready to rumble.

"If you wish automated entry, Lieutenant," Summerset said before she could spew, "you'll need to inform us when you intend to arrive in a strange vehicle. One not yet scanned and cleared for security. Otherwise, as you know, you're required to announce yourself so the system can read and verify your voice identification or access codes."

Shit. He had her there.

"It's not a strange vehicle. It's my vehicle."

He gave her his sour smile. "Come up in the world, have we?"

"Just blow me." Annoyed at the missed opportunity to pound on him, she started up the stairs.

"You have guests. Roarke is entertaining Mavis and Leonardo on the west terrace, first level. I'm about to serve canapés."

"Goodie." But since the half candy bar was now a far, fond memory, she could admit, privately, that anything involving food sounded fine to her.

She wound her way through the house, and found everyone sipping drinks. Not exactly, she corrected. Mavis was gesturing with her glass as she bubbled, more frothy than the lemon fizz in her hand.

She stood on the patio in a pair of shimmering green boots that ran up to her knees like a thin coat of paint where they met equally tight pants in red, no blue, no red.

Eve narrowed her eyes as the pants changed hues every time Mavis wiggled, which was always. The shimmering green top floated down to her hips where a lot of beads dangled.

Her hair was red today, and to Eve's relief stayed that way even when she danced in place. She'd left it down so it trailed along her butt with the ends picking up that same shimmering green, as if they'd been dipped in paint.

The two men watched her, Roarke with a bemused and affectionate smile, and Leonardo with open adoration.

Roarkeshifted his gaze, winked at Eve.

Rather than interrupt, Eve crossed over to where a wine bottle and glasses were set up. She poured herself a drink, then crossed the patio to sit on the arm of Roarke's chair.

"Dallas!" Mavis threw out her arms, and somehow didn't spill a single fizzing drop. "Did you just get here?"

"Just."

"I didn't know if we'd get to see you. But we wanted to come by so I could give Summerset a smoochie."

"Please, you're going to make me sick."

Mavis only laughed. "Then Roarke came in right behind us, so we're having a little hang. We're getting snacks."

Her eyes, green to go with the shimmer, danced.

"So I hear." Eve leaned around Roarke. "How's it going?" she asked Leonardo.

"Couldn't be better." He beamed at Mavis. He was a giant of a man, with skin of coppery gold. A wide face with dark eyes that were currently accented with a sweeping line of silver studs at each corner.

He wore boots as well, pale blue that rode up his calves. There his loose sapphire pants sort of poofed into them, reminding Eve of pictures she'd seen of—she thought—Arabia.

"Oh, boy, here's food!" Mavis made the dash over as Summerset rolled out a two-tiered trolley, laden with trays of fancy appetizers and sweets. "Summerset, if it wasn't for Leonardo, I'd scoop you right up and make you my love slave."

He smiled, a wide, toothy smile. Fearing nightmares, Eve turned away and stared into her wine.

"I believe I have several of your favorites here. You're eating for two."