Calculated in Death

sports. Probability is he’ll go for me first. But that doesn’t mean he won’t take a run at you if he sees an opening. Where’s your weapon?”
    “With my stuff. We put everything in the guest room Summerset gave us. I was going to carry it in my clutch. I got a really nice bag with this fake ruby clasp on sale at—”
    “Peabody.”
    “It looks good with the dress,” Peabody said stubbornly, “and it’s just big enough. But then I had a brainstorm.”
    “What kind of brainstorm?”
    “Well, see, the dress has a kind of draping skirt, so I opened a side seam, and put in a kind of slit.” She demonstrated with her hand low on her hip. “And I made a thigh holster.”
    “You
made
a holster?”
    “It’s sort of like a reinforced garter, but not very pretty. I didn’t have time for pretty. I just made it last night with what I had on hand. But it’ll secure my weapon so I just have to slide my hand in the slit to get to it.”
    “You made a holster,” Eve repeated, both puzzled and impressed. “The making stuff, that’s Free-Ager roots. The holster? That’s sort of anti-Free-Ager, but crafty cop.”
    “Crafty Cop.” Peabody’s eyes lit in appreciation. “I could make a whole line of them under that name, start up a police officer supply cottage industry. I saw the sketch of your dress. Where’s
your
weapon?”
    “Thigh holster, suited for my clutch piece. I didn’t make it,” she added. “I could use a damn slit.”
    “I don’t think I could work that in your dress. I saw the sketch. It would ruin the line.”
    “Yeah, I’m real worried about that.” But the important thing, Eve thought, was they’d both have quick access to their weapons. “Let’s go over this again.”
    “Can I get coffee first? I figure since we’re essentially on duty, wine’s out, which is too bad because I’m still a little nervous about the whole red carpet thing.”
    “Be more worried about being attacked by a former semi-pro running back who outweighs you by over a hundred pounds.”
    “That’s the other side of the nerves.”
    Fueled with coffee, they went over every inch of the operation, backtracked, rerouted, and then repeated.
    Enough, Eve decided, and seconds later heard Mavis’s signature laugh.
    Maybe Trina hit Peabody’s insane traffic. Maybe she was stuck in some hellacious traffic jam that would last for days and days. Maybe—
    Then, beside the pink and gold pixie of Mavis came the doom.
    “Hey! Are you ready to party?” Mavis asked and did two fast twirls. The twirls brought her close enough to see the screens, the blueprints, the operation outline on the computer. “You’re working? Why are you working?”
    “Crime never sleeps?” Eve ventured.
    “Do
not
tell me you’re not going.” Mavis pointed index fingers at both Eve and Peabody. “This night is multimag. It’s
your
vid, and Peabody and I have our total screen debut.”
    “We’re going.” Eve’s gaze slid cautiously toward Trina who stood studying her as if she were smeared on a slide in Dickhead’s lab. “We’re going and working.”
    “And partying,” Peabody added.
    “You’re going to look good doing all that when I get done with you.” Trina, her hair piled in red and gold curls that made Eve think of a flaming tower, circled. Then she stunned Eve speechless by pinching Eve’s cheek.
    “Your skin’s good. You’ve been taking care of it.”
    “I . . . Maybe.” She slapped on the gunk Trina pushed on her. Not because she was afraid of Trina, very much, but because it felt pretty good. “Pinch me again and I’ll flatten you.”
    “Relax. I’m going to give you both a hydro boost. It’ll give you a nice dewy glow.”
    “I don’t need a—”
    “It’s fast and relaxing.” In her fearless way, Trina rolled over Eve’s objections. “I prep and paint the canvas. Let’s get started.”
    “I need to fill Mavis in on what’s going on tonight.”
    “You can do that while your skin’s hydrating. Mavis already had her boost. We’re set up in the master suite.”
    “Already?”
    “Do I paint you up like a slut? Make you look homely and haggard?” Trina demanded.
    “You’ve painted tattoos on me without my knowledge or permission.”
    Trina just bared her teeth in a wide, wide smile. “Not tonight.”
    “Maybe I could get one. My dress has these rosebuds around the waist,” Peabody explained. “A little rosebud tattoo would be cute.”
    “We’ll take a look. Let’s go,”