In Death 03 - Immortal in Death

high-gloss plastic that served as his desk. "And the time?"
    "After eleven, before one."
    "Open screen." At his order, a section of the wall slid open to reveal a viewer. "Replay security scan five, begin eleven P. M."
    The screen, and the room, erupted with sound and color and movement. For an instant it dazzled the eye, then Eve focused. It was an overview of the club in full swing. A rather lordly view, she mused, as if the watcher soared quietly over the heads of the celebrants.
    It suited Dennis down to the ground.
    He smiled, judging her reaction. "Delete audio." Abruptly, silence descended. Now the movement seemed unworldly. Dancers gyrated on the circling floors, lights flashed over their faces, catching expressions, intense, joyful, feral. A couple at a corner table snarled at each other, body action clearly demonstrating an argument in progress. At another, a mating ritual with soulful looks and intimate touches.
    Then she spotted Mavis. Alone.
    "Can you enhance?" Eve rose, jabbed a finger to the center left of the screen.
    "Of course."
    Frowning, Eve watched Mavis brought closer, clearer. It was, according to the time display, twenty-three forty-five. There was a bruise already darkening under Mavis's eye. And when she turned her head to brush off an advance, the signs of raw scratches on her neck. But not her face, Eve noted with a sinking heart. The bright blue drape she wore was torn a bit at the shoulder, but it was still attached.
    She watched Mavis flick off a couple of other men, then a woman. She downed her drink, set the glass down beside a matching pair of empty ones on her table. She listed a bit as she rose, balanced herself, then with the exaggerated dignity of the greatly impaired, Mavis elbowed her way through the crowd.
    The time was twenty-four eighteen.
    "Is that what you were looking for?"
    "More or less."
    "Disengage video." Dennis smiled. "The woman in question comes in the club from time to time. She is usually more sociable, enjoys dancing. Occasionally she will sing. I find her a different sort of talent, and certainly a crowd pleaser. Do you need her name?"
    "I know who she is."
    "Well then." He rose. "I hope Miss Freestone isn't in any trouble. She looked unhappy."
    "I can get a warrant for a copy of that disc, or you can give me one."
    Dennis lifted a bright red eyebrow. "I'll be happy to give you one. Computer, copy disc and label. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
    "No, not at this time." Eve accepted the disc and slipped it into her bag. "Thanks for your cooperation."
    "Cooperation is the glue of life," he said as the panel slid shut behind them.
    "Weird-o," Feeney decided.
    "An efficient one. You know, Mavis could have gotten into a tussle while she was club hopping. She could have gotten her face scratched, her clothes torn."
    "Yeah." Determined to eat, Feeney stopped at an order table and requested a Jagger to go. "You ought to put something in your system, Dallas, besides worry and work."
    "I'm fine. I'm not much on the club scene, but if she had it in the back of her mind to go see Leonardo, she'd have walked south and east from here. Let's check out what her most likely stop would have been."
    "Fine. Just hold on." He made her wait until his takeout slid through the serving slot. He had the clear wrap off and the first bite in by the time they got to the car. "Damn good stuff. Always did like Jagger."
    "Hell of a way to live forever." She started to request a map when her car 'link beeped, signaling incoming transmission. "Lab report," she murmured and focused on the screen. "Oh, goddamn it."
    "Hell, Dallas, this is a mess." Appetite gone, Feeney stuffed the sandwich in his pocket. Both of them fell into silence.
    The report was very clear. It was Mavis's skin, and only Mavis's, under the victim's nails. Mavis's prints, and only Mavis's, on the murder weapon. And it was her blood, and only hers, mixed with the victim's on scene.
    The 'link beeped again, and this time a face appeared on screen. "Prosecuting Attorney Jonathan Heartly, Lieutenant Dallas."
    " Acknowledged."
    "We're issuing an arrest warrant for Freestone, Mavis, charge of murder, second degree. Please hold for transmission."
    "Didn't waste any time," Feeney grumbled.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    She wanted to do it alone. Had to do it alone. She could count on Feeney to work on ferreting out any details that might weaken the case against Mavis. But the job had to be done, and she had to do it herself.
    Still, she