In Death 03 - Immortal in Death

anything useful, but we will follow that up with a second pass. The woman who was living with the victim was of some help."
    Whitney lifted his brows. Eve was still wearing her stained shirt and torn jeans. "I'm told you had a bit of trouble there."
    "Nothing to speak of." Eve had already decided the tongue lashing she'd given would do. There was no need to layer on punishment with official reprimands. "She's a former licensed street companion. Didn't have the credits to renew. She's also a user. By applying a little pressure in that area, we were able to get her to tell us something of the victim's movements last night. According to her statement, they were together in the apartment until about oh one hundred. They'd had some wine and a little Exotica. He claimed he had to go, had a deal to close. She took some Download, passed out. As the ME puts the time of death at approximately oh two hundred in his prelim, it jibes.
    "Evidence indicates the victim was killed where he was found early this morning. It also strongly indicates that the victim was taken out by the same person who killed Moppett, Boomer, and Pandora."
    She took time for a breath and continued to speak formally. "Mavis Freestone's movements during the time of this murder can be accounted for by the primary and others."
    Whitney said nothing for a moment, but kept his eyes on Eve's face. "This office does not believe that Mavis Freestone is in any way connected with this murder, nor does the office of the prosecuting attorney. I have Dr. Mira's preliminary analysis of Ms. Freestone's testing."
    "Testing?" Formality forgotten, Eve sprang up. "What do you mean her testing? That wasn't scheduled until Monday."
    "It was rescheduled," Whitney said calmly. "And has been completed as of thirteen hundred hours."
    "Why wasn't I informed?" Uncomfortable memories of her own experiences with Testing roiled in her stomach. "I should have been there."
    "It was in the best interest of all parties involved that you were not." He held up a hand. "Before you lose your temper and risk insubordination, let me tell you that Dr. Mira clearly states in her report that Ms. Freestone passed all testing. The truth detector indicates her veracity in her statements. As to the other elements, Dr. Mira feels that the subject is highly unlikely to have exhibited the extreme violence with which Pandora was killed. Leaving out the hundred-credit words, Dr. Mira recommends the charges against Ms. Freestone be dropped."
    "Dropped." The backs of Eve's eyes burned as she sat again. "When?"
    "The prosecutor's office is taking Dr. Mira's report under advisement. Unofficially, I can tell you that unless other data come to light that disproves her analysis, the charges will be withdrawn on Monday." He watched Eve block most of a shudder, approved her control. "The physical evidence is strong, but outweighed at this point by Mira's report and the evidence gathered in the investigation of the allegedly connected deaths."
    "Thank you."
    "I didn't clear her, Dallas, nor have you, but you've come damn close. Get the bastard, and soon."
    "I intend to." Her communicator beeped. She waited for Whitney's nod before she answered. "Dallas."
    "Got your damn rush order." Dickie scowled at her. "Like I got nothing else to do."
    "Whine later. What have we got?"
    "Your latest corpse had a nice ride on Immortality before he bought it. Just before, is my guess. Don't think he had time to enjoy it."
    "Transmit the report to my office," she said and cut him off before he could complain. She was smiling as she rose this time. "I have this thing I have to go to tonight, and I think I might be able to tie a few things up."
    Chaos, panic, and tattered nerves seemed to be as much a part of a high-fashion runway show as needle-thin models and glitzy fabrics. It was intriguing and amusing to watch the players assume their roles. The pouty-lipped mannequin who found fault with every accessory, the rabbit-paced dresser who wore glinting needles and pins in a tuft of her hair, the stylist who swept down on models like a soldier pumped for battle, and the hapless creator of all the glitz who stood by amid the swirl, wringing his huge hands.
    "We're running behind. We're running behind. I need Lissa out in the cotton swirler in two minutes. The music's on pace, but we're running behind."
    "She'll be there. Jesus, Leonardo, get a grip."
    It took Eve a moment to recognize the stylist. Trina's hair was in sharp ebony spikes