In Death 18 - Divided in Death

played long, reed-like instruments. Birds sang, the sun shone, and the sky was a perfect bowl of cerulean blue.
    She woke with a start and said: “Gak.”
    “Wow, Dallas, you were really out.”
    Blinking, Eve focused on the figure spread out on the table beside her. She thought it was Mavis. It sounded like Mavis, but it was tough to make a positive ID when the form was covered with hot pink from shoulders to toes, the face coated with electric blue, and the hair plastered down with a mix of green, red, and purple.
    She’d have said gak again, but it seemed redundant.
    “You didn’t drool or anything,” Mavis assured her. “In case you were worried.”
    “Let out a couple of sex moans.” Trina’s voice came from somewhere near her feet, and Eve froze.
    “What are you doing?”
    “My job. You’re all rinsed off. Blissed right through that part. Got your derma revitalizer rubbed in. Your man’s going to like this one. Going to finish up with your hair and face after I do your feet.”
    “Do what to my feet?” Gingerly, Eve boosted herself on her elbows and looked down. “Oh my God! God almighty! You painted my toes.”
    “Just a delux ped. It’s not a satanic ritual.”
    “My toes are pink.”
    “Yeah, I went conservative with you. Sun-kissed Coral. Nice with your skin tone. Your feet were a disgrace,” Trina added as she sprayed on sealer. “Good thing you were under VR while I was working on them.”
    “How come she’s not under?” Eve demanded, pointing at Mavis.
    “I get more out of it if I’m aware of the treatments. I like getting souped and rubbed and scrubbed down and painted. It’s the ult of ults for me. You hate it.”
    “Mavis. If you know I hate it, why do you make me do this?”
    Mavis smiled an electric blue smile. “’Cause it’s fun.”
    Eve lifted a hand to rub her face, then gaped in shock as she saw her nails. “You painted my fingers. People will see them.”
    “Neutral French job.” Trina walked back up, slid a finger over one of Eve’s eyebrows. “Need trimming. You oughta chill, Dallas.”
    “Do you understand that I’m a cop? Do you understand that should I have to restrain a suspect and he gets a load of my shiny yet neutral French job, he’s going to break his neck laughing? Then I’ll be under IAB investigation for the death of a suspect at my hands.”
    “I know you’re a cop.” Trina showed her teeth in a smile. The left eyetooth was decorated with a tiny green stud. “That’s why I threw in the little boob tat gratis.”
    “Boob? Tattoo?” Eve sat up as if she’d been propelled out of a catapult. “Tattoo?”
    “Just a temp. Came out really good.”
    She was almost too horrified to look. To counter the fear, she took a handful of Trina’s glossy black hair, yanked her tormentor’s head down. If necessary, she would beat that head against the padded table until unconsciousness ensued. Ignoring Trina’s yelps and struggles, and Mavis’s giggling calls for peace, Eve tipped down her chin and looked at her breast.
    There on the curve of the left was a painted replica of her badge, minutely detailed though it was no bigger than her own thumbnail. Her grip loosened a bit as she tilted her own head to read her name. And Trina escaped.
    “Jesus, are you whacked? I said it was a temp.”
    “Did you give me any hallucinogenic substance while I was under VR?”
    “What?” Obviously steamed, Trina shook back her abused hair, folded her arms, and glowered at Mavis. “What is wrong with her? No, I didn’t give you anything. I’m a certified personal body and style consultant. I don’t have illegals on my menu. You ask me something like that, and—”
    “I asked something like that because I’m looking at what you painted on a personal area of my body, and I kind of like it, so I want to make sure I’m not under some illusionary drug haze.”
    Trina sniffed, but there was a light that was both pleasure and humor in her eyes. “You like it, I can make it permanent.”
    “No.” In defense, Eve slapped a hand on her breast. “No, no, no. No.”
    “Got it. Just the temp. Mavis has to cook a while more, so we’ll finish you up.” Trina pressed a mechanism on the table and a section lifted up like the back of a chair.
    “How come you’ve got all those colors in the gunk on your hair?”
    “I’m getting multied,” Mavis explained. “I’m going to have some red curls, and purple spikes, and—”
    “There wasn’t any of that in