In Death 15 - Purity in Death

don't let him see it. He's starting to fray, and he's trying hard not to show it. You try just as hard not to show it. If you need to vent, go out there on the kitchen terrace. Scream your lungs out."
    "Is that what you do?"
    "Sometimes. Sometimes I kick inanimate objects. Sometimes I jump Roarke and have jungle sex. The last," she said after a beat, "is not an option for you."
    "But I think it would really make me feel better, and be a more productive member of the investigative team."
    "Good, humor is good. Get me coffee."
    "Yes, sir. Thanks. It's going to be a minute on the coffee. I think I'll try the terrace thing."
    Eve sat, began to thread her way through Mary Ellen George's life.
    The sealed files remained sealed. She'd gotten her warrant, and Child Services had immediately trumped it with a temporary restraining order. The TRO would hold her off until lawyers fought it out in court.
    Days, she thought. Days lost. Unless she took another route.
    Before she did, she'd try a more legitimate angle. For the third time that day, she put in a call to Detective Sergeant Thomas Dwier.
    This time she tagged him instead of his voice mail.
    "Sergeant, Lieutenant Dallas. I've been trying to tag you."
    "I'm in court." He had a tough, lived-in face. "We're on a fifteen. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
    "I'm primary on the Purity homicides. You hear about that?"
    "Who hasn't? You tapping me because of that asshole Fitzhugh?"
    "I'm digging for what I can find. I'd like to pick your brain over it. You also were part of the team on Mary Ellen George."
    "Yeah, thought we had her solid, but she slithered. What's the connection?"
    "She's dead."
    "So, the wheel goes round and round. Don't know what I can tell you about either one of them that's not in the files."
    "Why don't I buy you a beer after court? I'm jammed up, Dwier. I could use some help."
    "Sure, what the hell. You know O'Malley's off of Eighth on Twenty-third?"
    "I'll find it."
    "Should be done here in an hour."
    "I'll meet you at O'Malley's." She glanced at the time. "Seventeen hundred."
    "Should work. They're calling us back. Later."
    She turned from the 'link as Peabody set a mug of coffee on the desk. "Better?"
    "Yeah, I guess. Throat's kinda sore. Your fridgie and your AutoChef are both out of Pepsi."
    "Jamie must drink it by the truckload. Tell Summerset, then-"
    She broke off when a small tornado burst into her office.
    Mavis Freestone moved fast. The two-inch platforms on her purple gel-sandals didn't seem to affect speed or balance. She zoomed into Eve's office, a blur of purple, pink, and possibly puce, all mixed together in a micro-skirt and tit tube that almost covered the essentials. Her hair was in what appeared to be a half-million braids that echoed the color theme.
    She spun to the desk, around it - the squishy gel on her feet making little sproinging sounds - and caught Eve in a headlock embrace that cut off all oxygen to the brain.
    Eve managed to glug, slap on the arms that pressed on her windpipe.
    "This is the best day! The most totally mag day ever invented. I love you, Dallas."
    "Then why are you trying to kill me?"
    "Sorry, sorry." But she squeezed again until Eve's ears began to ring. "I've got to talk to you."
    "Can't." Freed, Eve coughed, rubbed at her throat. "Even if I were physically able I'm buried here. I'll call you when I surface."
    "I have to. It's important. It's like vital. Please, please, please." She bounced as she begged, and the virulent mix of colors on the move made Eve dizzy.
    "Two minutes. Talk fast."
    "It's private. Sorry, Peabody, but . . . please!"
    "Peabody, go find Summerset, tell him to hunt up a cargo plane full of Pepsi."
    "Close the door, okay. Would you? Thanks." Still bouncing, Mavis linked her hands, held them between her small, barely restrained breasts. Her ringers winked and glowed with rings. On her left arm some sort of coil snaked from wrist to elbow. Eve wondered if the impression of it would be permanently stamped on her throat.
    "Make it fast, Mavis." Eve scooped back her hair, gulped down coffee. "I'm really pressed. Weren't you supposed to be somewhere?"
    "FreeStar One. Olympus Resort. Did a week gig at the Apollo Casino. It rocked. I just got back this morning."
    "Good. Great." Eve shifted her gaze to her screen, began to process the data in her head. "We'll get together when I'm clear. You can tell me all about it."
    "I'm knocked up."
    "Fine. We'll cover that. We can-" Her brain simply went on