In Death 11 - Judgment in Death

busy to talk, don't wait up." She couldn't resist a snort. "Like that's going to work."
    "Shut up." Eve shifted in her seat, tried biting her tongue, then gave up. "Why won't it work?"
    "Because you're slick, Dallas, but he is way slicker. He might even let you tango awhile, then... bop."
    "Bop? What the hell is bop?"
    "I don't know, because I'm not as slick as either one of you. But we'll both know it when we see it." Peabody stifled a yawn as they pulled up to the lab. "I haven't ridden in a black and white for awhile." She patted the thin, miserably uncomfortable seat. "I haven't missed it."
    "It was the best I could do. I'm going to get grief for commandeering this at the scene, but my unit's trash."
    "Nah." Peabody yawned again, rubbed her eyes. "The uniform you snagged it from's too much in awe. He'll probably put a plaque in this thing. Eve Dallas sat here."
    "Give me a break." But the idea made her snicker as they climbed out. "I want you to contact Maintenance. They don't hate you as much as me. Yet. Get them to put my unit back in shape."
    "It'll go quicker if I lie and put in the request under another badge number."
    "Yeah, you're right. Use Baxter's. You're punchy," she added when Peabody yawned again. "When we're done here, take an hour's down time, or pop some Wake-Up, whatever. I need you focused."
    "I'll get my second wind."
    The guard at the door looked as if he'd missed his second wind altogether and was sliding under his third. His eyes were half closed, his uniform wrinkled, and he had a sleep crease deep into his right cheek.
    "You're coded in," was all he said and lumbered back to his station.
    "This place is like a tomb at night." Peabody gave a little shudder. "Worse than the morgue."
    "We'll liven things up."
    She didn't expect Dickie to be happy to see her. But then again, she hadn't expected to once again hear Mavis's voice blasting into the air when she stepped into the main lab.
    Chief Lab Tech Berenski, not so affectionately known as Dickhead, was hunched over a compu-scope, his skinny butt twitching as he sang tunelessly along.
    At that moment, Eve knew she could ask for the moon and the stars. She had a solid-gold bargaining chip.
    "Hey, Dickie."
    "That's Mister Dickie to you." He lifted his head and she saw she'd been right. Happy, he was not. His eyes were puffy, his oversized lips snarling. And, she noted, his shirt was on inside out. "Get me out of bed middle of the night. Everything's always an emergency with you, Dallas. Everything's priority one. Just keep off my ass. You'll get results when I got results and not a minute before. Go somewhere and stop breathing down my neck."
    "But I get off just being near you."
    He slid his eyes up and over, studied her dubiously. Usually she came in with both feet poised to kick him in the ass. You just couldn't trust her when she was smiling and joking around.
    "You're in a pretty chipper mood for somebody who's got bodies piling up and the brass ready to crawl down your drawers."
    "What can I say? This music just gives me happy feet. You know Mavis has a gig coming up here next week. I heard it was sold out. Did you hear it was sold out, Peabody?"
    "Yeah." She might have been tired, but Peabody clued in quickly. "A one-night-only, too. She's pretty hot."
    "She's beyond hot," Dickie said. "I got me two tickets. Pulled a few strings. Second balcony."
    "Those kind of strings make your nose bleed." Eve examined her fingernails. "I can get two in the orchestra, with backstage passes. If I had a pal, that is."
    His head shot up, and his clever spider's fingers gripped her arm. "Is that straight shit?"
    "The straightest. If I had a pal," she repeated, "and that pal was busting his ass to get me data I needed, I'd get him those tickets and those passes."
    Dickie's puffy eyes went moist. "I'm your new best friend."
    "That's so sweet. Start feeding me results, Dickie, within the hour, and those tickets are in your greedy little hands. You find me something, anything that gives me a line on this guy, and I'll see to it Mavis plants a big, wet kiss right on your mouth."
    She patted his head, started out. At the door she glanced back saw him standing, staring, his mouth still hanging slack. "Fifty-nine minutes, Dickie. Ticktock."
    He all but leapt at his scope.
    "Slick," Peabody said as they headed out. "You are so slick."
    When they got back to Central, Eve sent Peabody off to write the initial report from the record and notes on-scene. And Eve made