In Death 18 - Divided in Death

sentimental.”
    ———«»———«»———«»———
    “She wasn’t wearing a locket,” Peabody said as they stepped back into Chloe’s apartment.
    “Nope.”
    “No locket found on premises.”
    “Negative.”
    “So, potentially, whoever killed her or induced her to kill herself took the locket.”
    “It sure as hell’s missing. People put things in lockets, don’t they?”
    “Sure, pictures, locks of hair, DNA samples.”
    “If Bissel gave it to her, could be there was something more than romantic inside it—or about it.”
    “Am I going to have to eat my shiny new badge?”
    Eve shook her head. “Doesn’t mean she knew what she had. But I’m betting she died because of it, and whatever she might have had on her data unit.”
    Peabody adjusted her thinking and looked around the living room. “She tidied up, or someone did. I can’t see why anyone who came in would wash the neighbor’s wineglass or pick up the place. If she did it, she had a reason. Expecting someone? That means she’d have gotten a call, but there’s no record of one on any ‘link.”
    “None that show. The data unit’s down. Could be somebody sent her an e-mail.”
    “So we have the EDD whizzes look closer on data and on communication.”
    “There you go.”
    “The building’s got minimal security, but they should take a look at the run for last night through the 911 call.”
    “I’ll arrange a pickup.”
    “We can make all those contacts while fueling our bodies with nutrition. After all, you missed your candy fix.”
    “Don’t remind me.” She didn’t have to look over to know there would be the beginnings of a pout on Peabody’s face. “Okay, we’ll eat. I want to juggle some things in my head anyway.”
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    Eve couldn’t have said why she picked the Blue Squirrel for anything resembling food, and a passing resemblance was as close as anything on the menu came to food. Maybe she needed to touch base with something from her old life—to indulge in a few memories of sitting at one of the sticky tables, half lit on a Zombie while Mavis bounced on stage and screeched out songs for the crowd.
    Or maybe, she thought as she studied the soy burger on her plate, she had a death wish.
    “I know better than to eat this,” she muttered, and took a bite anyway. “Nothing in this comes from the natural universe.”
    “You’ve gotten spoiled.” Peabody plowed through a chicken wrap and side of veggie chips with apparent pleasure. “Meat from actual cows, real coffee, genuine chicken eggs, and all that.”
    Eve scowled and bit into the burger again. Now she could say why she’d opted for the Squirrel. She’d wanted to prove to herself she wasn’t spoiled.
    “Somebody helps themselves to the coffee from my office AutoChef whenever she damn well pleases.”
    “Sure, it’s the first degree of separation rule.” Peabody wagged a veggie chip that was, remotely, carrot-colored. “I get spoiled by association. Or maybe it’s second degree, because the coffee comes from Roarke to you. So you’re first degree. But since you’re married—”
    “Shut up and eat.”
    Obviously, Eve thought, since she was eating the mysterious substance purporting to be meat substitute that was slapped between two bricks of some sort of bread matter, she wasn’t spoiled.
    A person got used to what they were used to, that’s all. And since Roarke insisted on having cow meat and other natural food products around the house, she was accustomed to them. She didn’t even notice the difference now. The food was just there, like a chair, or a picture on the wall that she didn’t really look at . . .
    Because it was day to day.
    She yanked out her communicator.
    “Feeney.” His face filled her screen. “And this better be good.”
    Eve noted that his hair, however he’d shortened it, was sticking up in mad tufts. Whatever he was working on, she concluded, wasn’t going well.
    “I need you to take the civilian and his magic fingers over to Queens. Take those sculptures apart.”
    “You want us to take sculptures apart.”
    “You didn’t find eyes and ears in the house yet, right?”
    “I got a couple of boys doing another sweep.”
    “Move them out, and you and Roarke move in. The sculptures, Feeney. She wouldn’t have thought twice about the sculptures. Reva wouldn’t have checked them because he brought them in. She wouldn’t have thought twice about them, and