Calculated in Death

piece—on air tonight.”
    “Fine. Done. Deal.”
    It didn’t take long. Nadine angled Eve at the office window in a way that would give the illusion, on screen, of a bigger space, and a wide view of the city.
    “Lieutenant Dallas,” Nadine began, “are you looking forward to the premiere of
The Icove Agenda
tomorrow evening?”
    “I am. It was a difficult case, a far-reaching case. The kind that sticks with you as a police officer. I’m very curious to see how the vid interprets reality.”
    “You had very little involvement in the production, by your own choice.”
    “I figure people like Mason Roundtree don’t tell me how to run a murder investigation, and I won’t tell them how to create a vid. I want to see how it turned out, how it angles. Your book got it right. I’m pretty confident the vid based on it will, too.”
    “Thanks. While you’ve been known to attend glamorous events as Roarke’s wife in the past, this event centers on you.”
    “On the case,” Eve said, instantly and obviously uncomfortable.
    “On which you were primary. How do you feel about that end of it? The red carpet, the fashion—and commentary—the celebrities?”
    And it would be out of character, she realized, to pretend any excitement or interest in fashion and glitz.
    So she’d play it straight.
    “The actors are just people doing a job as far as I can see. From what I saw when I visited the set, they did a good job. Actually, I just spoke with Marlo Durn today, and look forward to seeing her and the rest of the cast and crew tomorrow night.”
    “Rumor has it you’ll be wearing something designed especially for you and the event, by your favored designer, Leonardo. Any hints on the dress for our audience?”
    Eve was reasonably sure Nadine could have held a stunner to her throat and she wouldn’t be able to describe the dress. “I’ll only say Leonardo’s favored for a reason. He never misses, so all I have to do is put on what he makes. Tomorrow—well, it’s sort of a fantasy, isn’t it? Fancy clothes, fancy people, red carpets, theater, a major vid. It’s a break from what I do every day, a chance to step into the fantasy for one night before going back to the reality of the next case.”
    Nadine pitched a couple more soft balls, changed the camera angle, then wrapped.
    “That’ll work. Not bad, Dallas.”
    “The more air it gets, the better.”
    “I’ll do what I can do.”
    Satisfied with that, Eve gathered what she needed to set up a briefing, walked out to Peabody. “Anything from EDD or Yancy?”
    “Not yet.”
    “Let’s get set up.”
    “For what, exactly?”
    “I’ll tell you while we set up.” As they went out, Eve dug for credits.
    “Here, get me a tube of Pepsi, and get whatever you want.”
    “You’re really back on a Vending boycott?”
    “It’s safer for everybody. If we get leads on the hacker and the muscle, solid ones that lead us to them, this briefing will just be an exercise.” She took the tube Peabody handed her, cracked it as they walked to the conference room.
    “Otherwise, Mira believes, and I agree, he’s going to try to take us out again—you and me.”
    “Well, that’s not happy news.”
    “It is because we can work that. Did you get me the theater layout?”
    “Right here. I wasn’t sure if you wanted it on your unit or a hard copy.”
    Eve took the disc. “This for now. Go ahead and set up a board, standard for the current investigation.”
    As Eve loaded the disc, brought the layout on screen, and Peabody set up the board, Eve filled her in on the basics of her proposed operation.
    “At the premiere?” Peabody interrupted. “Really?”
    “Don’t whine about it.”
    “I got a new dress. And shoes. I spent more for the shoes than the dress. And Trina’s got this idea for my hair, and this whole new eye pallet to . . .” Trailing off, Peabody cleared her throat and got very busy with the board.
    “I know about Trina. You bitch.”
    Shoulders hunched, Peabody carefully pinned up murder. “It’s a special night. You’ll look really good, and you won’t have to do it all yourself. We won’t want the NYPSD to fall short of the Hollywood crowd, right? Team pride!”
    “Rah fucking rah.”
    “Really, Dallas, it’ll be good, it’ll be chilly, and we’ll look abso-mag by the time . . .” She trailed off again, face lighting up. “We
will
look mag. And if we take down this killer at the premiere, with cams everywhere, it’ll be