Calculated in Death

right.”
    “Was it totally surreal investigating the murder of the woman who plays you in the vid? She sort of looked like you, especially in the publicity shots. It had to be really weird.”
    In her curvy chair, Latisha just sighed.
    “It was strange, yes.”
    “And a total scandal, which just adds delicious juice—don’t roll your eyes, Tisha, it
does.
I’d kill to go to the New York premiere. I don’t mean literally,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m actually nervous, and I don’t get nervous. I have no nerves, except now I do. I’ve never been interviewed by the police. And then it’s you, the Icove police. And Roarke’s cop. And God, I’m sorry, but I seriously love your boots,” she said to Peabody.
    “Thanks. I do, too.”
    Latisha rose, got a bottle of water from a cabinet, handed it to her friend. “Sip, breathe. Breathe, sip.”
    “Thanks.” She breathed, she sipped. “We’re some smart, ambitious women who put their heads and talents together and made something. And we’re working on taking that up a level. We do good work, we make a good living, and we have a lot of fun doing it. And we’re really sorry about what happened to Marta.”
    Latisha reached over, gave Angie’s hand a squeeze. “That’s about it.”
    “Just a couple more things,” Eve put in. “You’re aware of the break-in at Brewer’s company?”
    “Yes. Mr. Brewer called us personally, about an hour before you came,” Latisha told Eve. “It feels as if they’re getting slammed over and over.”
    “Will the theft of your financial files cause you any problems?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t think so. We’re a relatively small outfit, and what’s in the files would’ve been shared with the reps of the company we’re considering merging with. It’s a problem because it may hold up the merger, but we’re not in a hurry.”
    “We want to take our time with that,” Angie added. “It feels like a good fit, but so did those fabulous shoes I bought last week, and ended up giving to Clare after they put blisters on my blisters. You know what I’m saying?”
    Peabody had to grin. “Oh boy, do I.”
    “In any case,” Latisha continued, “Kassy talked to Jake about it. The upshot is, we’ve been smart and clean, so if the data gets out, it’s all good. And we’ve already changed all our passcodes, alerted our credit companies, and so on. It sounds like someone’s screwing with Brewer more than with us.”
    •   •   •
    N ot assholes,” Peabody concluded as she climbed back into the car.
    “No, but not assholes also cheat, steal, and kill.”
    “I don’t see any motive.”
    “Maybe there’s something off with this merger. Maybe one of them’s skimming and the others don’t know about it.” Eve shrugged. “I don’t get a buzz either, but the connections are there.”
    “I liked them. I wonder how much they charge. McNab and I could use some organizing at our place.”
    At the moment, Eve was more interested in organizing her notes and her brain. “I’ve got a consult with Mira coming up, and I want to put some of this together before we hit the WIN partners again. You start checking alibis, top to bottom. I’m going to reach out to Vegas PD, see what there is to see on this accident that started this ball rolling.”

SHE HAD CONSIDERABLE TO DEAL WITH BACK on her own turf. Detectives needed to run investigations by her, or update her on the status. She had to read and decipher McNab’s report on the Brewer building security and on his progress on the vic’s desk unit.
    Her own board and book required updating. Then she needed coffee and a few quiet minutes to process.
    As she added the last photos to her board, Trueheart tapped on her doorjamb.
    “Sorry to bother you, Lieutenant. Have you got a minute . . . Hey, I know her.”
    “Who?”
    He stepped in, tapped Holly Novak’s picture.
    Intrigued, Eve gave the photo of the Your Space partner another study. Attractive, mixed race, leaning Asian. A dark wedge of hair around a lively face with light green eyes.
    “How and where?”
    “I’m looking for it,” he said. “Oh yeah, they hired her—her company—to organize and streamline my mother’s office. I mean, the office where my mother works. I was over there one day, and met her. Is she a suspect?”
    “I don’t think so, but give me a take.”
    “Friendly, energetic. Ruthless my mom said, but in a good way. Mom liked her, I know that. She said how she