In Death 07 - Holiday in Death

files if you had your hand in it."
    "Exactly."
    "Where's Peabody?"
    "Trina's just finishing her."
    "I need her now. She's got to get over here and put in her app, get the consult going. She looked okay, for God's sake. How long does it take to primp her up and put some street clothes on her?"
    "Trina had some mag ideas," Mavis assured her with such enthusiasm Eve's blood chilled. "Wait till you see. Oh yeah, Trina wants you to plug in a session before your party. She wants to glam you some for it, since it's the holidays."
    Eve merely grunted. She had no intention of being glammed -- now or ever.
    "Sure, right. Where the hell..." Her voice trailed off as she heard them coming. She turned toward the doorway and blinked. Gaped.
    "I have to say," Trina announced, "I'm good."
    Peabody snorted, flushed, then smiled hesitantly. "Okay, so do you think I'll pass the audition?"
    Her bowl-cut hair had been sheened and fluffed into a dark halo. Her face glowed with deep color smudged around her eyes to accent their shape and size, and her lips were dyed a soft coral pink.
    Her body, which appeared so sturdy in a uniform, took on lusher, more feminine curves in a sweeping ankle duster of deep pine green. A tangle of chains in jewel hues were draped around her neck. Peeking out between the layers was a small, wistful tattoo of a gold-winged fairy.
    Peabody had selected the tattoo herself after Trina had caught her up in the spirit of things. She hadn't flinched when the quick, capable hands had cupped her left breast to apply the temp. By that time she'd begun to enjoy the sensation of being remade.
    But now, as Eve stared at her, Peabody began to shift her feet -- they were clad in toothpick heels that matched the wings of her mystical tattoo. "It doesn't work?"
    "You sure as hell don't look like a cop," Eve decided.
    "You look beautiful." Amused by his wife's reaction, Roarke stepped forward and took both of Peabody's hands: "Absolutely delicious." So saying, he kissed her fingers and had Peabody's susceptible heart stuttering.
    "Yeah, really? Wow."
    "Get over it, Peabody. Feeney, you've got twenty minutes to brief her on her profile. Peabody, where's your stunner, your communicator?"
    "Here." Still flushed, she slipped a hand into a hidden pocket in the hip of the dress. "Handy, huh?"
    "It's not going to replace uniforms," Eve said, then pointed to a chair. "You need to commit the data Feeney's going to give you to memory. Record it. You can replay it on the drive over. We can't afford any slipups. I want you in by end of day, and on match lists by tomorrow."
    "Yes, sir." But Peabody fingered the material of the dress lovingly as she walked over to sit with Feeney.
    "You're next," Trina said, running a quick, assessing hand through Eve's hair.
    "I don't have time for a treatment." Eve backed up. "Besides, you just did me a few weeks ago."
    "You don't get regular treatments, you ruin my work. She makes time before the party, or I'm not responsible for how she looks," Trina warned Roarke.
    "She'll make time." And to placate her, he took her arm, steering her out as he praised her brilliance with Peabody.

CHAPTER NINE
    Finding Nadine Furst lazily filing her nails at Eve's desk wasn't the welcome Eve was looking for when she arrived at Cop Central.
    "Get your butt out of my chair."
    Nadine merely smiled sweetly, tucked her nail file away in her enormous calf-colored bag, and uncrossed her smooth legs. "Hello, Dallas. So good to see you. Doing a lot of work out of your home office these days? I can't blame you." As she rose, Nadine skimmed her sharp cat's eyes over the cramped, dingy, dusty room. "This place is a dump."
    Saying nothing, Eve marched directly to her computer, checked the last log-on time, then did the same with her 'link.
    "I didn't touch anything." Nadine added just enough insult to her voice for Eve to be sure the reporter had considered it.
    "I'm busy, Nadine. I don't have time for the media. Go chase an MT van or harass one of the droids in Booking."
    "You might want to make time." Still smiling, Nadine moved to the only other chair in the office and daintily crossed her legs again. "Unless you want me to go on air with what I've got."
    Eve jerked a shoulder -- and found that her muscles had tensed as she sat -- stretched out her own denim-covered legs, and crossed her battered boots at the ankles. "What you got, Nadine?"
    "Singles seeking romance find violent death. Personally Yours: dating service or death