In Death 07 - Holiday in Death

get some then." Behind his microgoggles, his eyes were as big as an owl's. "I'm running the damn stuff, aren't I? You want it quick or you want it right?"
    "I want it both." Because she was desperate, she walked over and ordered a cup of the lab sludge pretending to be coffee and forced down a swallow.
    "Hair's human," he called out. "Treated with a salon fixer and an herbal disinfectant."
    That perked Eve up enough to have her drinking more coffee as she crossed to him. "What kind of fixer, what's it for?"
    "To preserve color and texture. It'll keep the white from yellowing or getting stiff. Two of your samples have some adhesive on one end. These hairs likely came from a wig. A good, expensive one. This is real human hair, and that puts it high-end. I'll have to run more to tag the adhesive. Might be able to get you a brand name on the fixer after some more tests."
    "What about the fibers, the stuff Peabody got from the drains?"
    "I haven't done it yet. Jesus, I'm not a droid."
    "Okay." She pressed her fingers to her eyes. "I need to go to the morgue, make sure Holloway's on the table. Dickie." She laid a hand on his shoulder. He was a pain in the ass, but he was the best. "I need everything you can get me, and I need it fast. This guy's taken out four, and he's already looking for number five."
    "I'll get it to you a hell of a lot faster if you stop breathing down my neck."
    "I'm leaving. Peabody."
    "Sir." Peabody jerked from her doze in a lab chair and blinked blindly.
    "We're moving," Eve said shortly. "Dickie, I'm counting on you."
    "Yeah, yeah. You know I don't think I got my invite to your big party tomorrow night." He smiled thinly. "Musta gotten lost."
    "I'll make sure we find it. After you give me what I need."
    "You got it." Pleased, he turned back and bent over his work.
    "Greedy little bastard. Here." Eve pushed the coffee into Peabody's hand as they headed back out to the car. "Drink this. It'll either wake you up or kill you."
    Eve badgered the AME until she had confirmed cause of death. She stood over his shoulder until he'd run the tox test and reported the over-the-counter tranq in Holloway's system.
    Back at Central she ordered Peabody to the cramped area commonly known as the Resort. It consisted of one dark room with three two-level bunks.
    While her aide slept, Eve settled into her office and wrote up the reports. She transmitted the necessary copies, and fueled herself with more coffee and what might have been a cranberry muffin from the vending machine.
    It was still shy of dawn when her 'link beeped and Roarke's image swam onto her screen.
    "Lieutenant, you're pale enough to see through."
    "I'm solid enough."
    "I have something for you."
    Her heart bumped once. He'd know to say nothing more on a logged call. "I'm going to try to swing home shortly. Peabody's down for a couple of hours more."
    "You need to go down yourself."
    "Yeah. I've about done all I can here. I'm coming in."
    "I'll wait up for you."
    She broke the call, and left a brief memo for Peabody, should she wake before Eve returned. Once she was in her car and headed out, she put in another call to the lab.
    "Anything more for me?"
    "Jesus, you're relentless. Tagged your fiber. It's a sym-poly blend, trade name Wulstrong. Simulated wool, commonly in coats and sweaters. This was dyed red."
    "Like a Santa suit?"
    "Yeah, but not one of your bell-ringing suits. Those poor bastards can't afford this kind of weight and quality. This is good shit, next best thing to real wool. The manufacturers claim it's better -- warmer, more durable, and blah blah blah. That's bullshit, 'cause nothing's better than genuine. But this is good, pricey. Just like the hair. Your guy isn't worried about spending credits."
    "Good. Nice work, Dickie."
    "You find my invitation, Dallas?"
    "Yeah, it fell behind my desk."
    "Those things happen."
    "Get me the results of the drain lift, Dickie, and I'll have it messengered over."
    She watched dawn flirt with the eastern sky as she turned toward home.
    She knew where to find Roarke. In a room that shouldn't have existed, manning equipment that she shouldn't know about. She ignored the knee-jerk reaction, a cop's reaction, as she approached the room and laid her palm on the plate.
    "Dallas, Lieutenant Eve."
    Her palm- and voiceprints were analyzed quickly, and she was cleared inside.
    He'd left the curtains open on the wide glass. The glass itself was treated. No one could see inside. The room was large, the floor a