In Death 07 - Holiday in Death

excellent detective."
    "So, he was blackmailing them. Or one of them. Do you have initials of the name authorizing transfer?"
    "The account is under both names. It could have been either Piper or Rudy. Their account uses a passcode rather than a signature."
    "Okay, it gives me enough to bring them into Interview and cook them awhile." She drew a long breath. "I'm going to let Peabody have a go at them first, shake them up. Then I'll move in."
    "Just make sure you're home by six."
    Impatient, she turned back to him. The morning was breaking, light slipping through the treated glass and accenting her pale cheeks and shadowed eyes. "I made the deal. I'll keep it."
    "Of course you will." If he had to go down to Cop Central and carry her out personally.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    Eve decided the best strategy was to hit her targets hard and clean while they were already bruised. If Peabody played it right, Rudy and Piper would be shaken, working frantically to avoid bad publicity and a potential lawsuit brought by a horrified client.
    And when Peabody moved out, Eve thought, she would move in.
    At nine thirty she was in the salon, showing Holloway's picture to the reception clerk. If it went as timed, she would be finishing up when Peabody came in and gave her the go signal.
    "Sure, I know Mr. Holloway. He had a regular once a week, and a standing monthly."
    "Once a week for what?"
    "Hair style, facial, manicure, massage, and aroma-relax." Yvette, friendly and helpful now, leaned over the counter and let out a little sigh as she studied Holloway's picture again. "This guy's got a mag shell, and he knew how to maintain. Once a month he got the works, full day of treatments."
    "Same consultant?"
    "Oh sure, he wouldn't settle for anybody but Simon. A few months ago, Simon took a vacation. Mr. Holloway pitched a big one right here in the wait area. We gave him a free spin in the mood tube and a Deluxe O to chill him down."
    "Deluxe O?"
    "O for orgasm, honey. Privacy room, with his choice of VR, holo, or droid LC. We aren't set up for human licensed companions, but we have all the alternatives. The Deluxe runs five hundred, but it was worth it to take him down. You gotta keep your regulars happy. A client like Holloway drops like five thousand a month in here, not counting product purchases."
    "And there's nothing like a Deluxe Orgasm to keep the customer satisfied."
    "You got it." She grinned, grateful that Eve didn't appear to hold grudges. "So, did he do something?"
    "You could say that. But he won't be doing it again. Simon around?"
    "He's back in Studio Three. You don't want to go back there," she began when Eve turned.
    "Yes, I do."
    Eve walked down a short hallway and through frosted glass doors etched with silhouettes of perfect human forms.
    There were muted voices and music, the sounds of water splashing tunefully, birds chirping, breezes blowing. She could smell eucalyptus, rose, musk.
    Pastel-colored doors lined both sides. Through an open one she could see a long padded table and complicated equipment, tubes, mirrors, a small computer station. All of which reminded her uncomfortably of a health center.
    As she continued down, another door opened and a consultant in a white uniform led a woman covered from head to toe in green glop toward another area.
    "Studio Three?"
    "Corridor to the left, the door's marked."
    "Uh-huh." Eve watched while the consultant drew her client away, telling her that ten minutes in the Desert Room would make her a new woman.
    It took all Eve's willpower not to shudder.
    When the corridor forked, she saw the large bubbling spa framed with miniature weeping cherry trees. Three women were already relaxing in it, breasts bobbing cheerfully on the surface of the sugar-pink froth.
    Another woman drifted alone, submerged to the chin in the thickened green fluid of a sensory tube. Just beyond it, in what Eve supposed was the wet area, was a narrow pool called the Plunge, where the sharply blue water was held at a temperature of thirty-six degrees. Even looking at it made her teeth chatter.
    She turned left. After a quick knock on the Easter-egg-blue door marked Three, she stepped in. It was a toss-up who was more surprised, herself, Simon, or McNab, who reclined in a relaxation chair with his face coated with what appeared to be black mud.
    "This is a treatment area." Hands flapping, Simon rushed to block her way. "You're not allowed in here while I'm consulting. Out, out, out."
    "I need to talk to you.