In Death 22 - Memory in Death

Zana’s.
    She tried the eyebrowsmore of an arch on Zana’s. The nose more narrow, slight uptilt.
    Was it reaching, she thought, to see those changes as improvements? The sort a vain woman might pay for if she believed they’d make her more attractive? Especially one who might want to change her
    appearance for other reasons?
    But when she tried the mouths, her own curved up. “Oh, now, I guess you liked your lips. Computer,
    run comparison of current images. Are they a match?”
    Working … Current images are a match.
    “Changed your hair, your eyes, your nose. Planed down the cheeks, but you left your mouth alone. Put on a few pounds,” she said aloud as she checked height and weight. “Softened yourself up. But you couldn’t do anything about your height.”
    She wrote it up, exactly as she saw it, listed all supporting evidence. She was going personally to the
    PA, to a judge, and pressing for the warrants.
    Her ‘link signalled on her way down the steps. “Dallas, talk fast.”
    “Hey, I’m back, I’m here. You’re not. We had”
    “Contact the PA’s office,” she interrupted Peabody’s cheerful greeting. “Get Reo if you can. She’s their golden girl right now.”
    “What”
    “I need a consult ASAP, and their recommendation for a judge who’ll be most apt to sign a couple of warrants.”
    “For who? For what?”
    “For Zana. Search of the hotel room, her belongings. Suspicion of murder, suspicion of attempted murder. That’ll start the ball.”
    “Zana? But”
    “Do it, Peabody.” She grabbed her coat from the newel post, swung it on as she walked by Summerset. “I’ll run the game for the PA. You want to catch up, read the reports I sent to your desk unit. I’ve got
    to run this by the commander. I’m on my way in.”
    “Jeez, every time I take a day off, something happens.”
    “Get it moving. I want her in Interview this morning.”
    She disconnected. Her car was, like her coat, already waiting. At the moment, she decided she was just juiced enough to be grateful for Summerset’s annoying efficiency.
    Her blood was up. Maybe it was running hotter than it should, but she’d analyze that later. Right now
    she knew she was on track. She’d have surprise on her side; something she thought she could use with
    an opponent like Zana. Like Marie, she corrected. It was time to start thinking of her by that name.
    She was going to close this down, then it would be over. Something she would set aside and forget.
    Trudy Lombard and all those awful months, locked away again where they belonged.
    And when it was done, she thought, as she slid into traffic, sure, she’d take a few days off with Roarke. Go to their island, run around naked as monkeys, screw each other brainless in the sand. Grab some
    sun and surf and gear up for the long, cold winter to come.
    Her link signalled again. “Dallas, what?”
    “Hey, hi! Did you have a magolicious Christmas?”
    “Mavis.” Eve had to switch her mind, do a mental one-eighty. “Yeah, yeah. Listen, I’m heading to work. Why don’t I tag you later?”
    “Okay, no prob. Just mostly wanted to be sure you and Roarke remember the coaching classes. Coming up in a couple weeks.”
    “No, I remember.” The horror of it was etched on her mind like laser art on glass.
    “Leonardo and I can go with you, if you want. Have some dinner or whatever after.”
    “Um. Sure. Sure. Ah, isn’t this a little early for you to be awake?”
    “Baby gets me up early. I guess it’s good practice. Look, look what my honey pie made me with his
    own two hands!”
    She held up some sort of short, footed thinga kind of miniature skinsuit, Eve decided, in
    bloody-murder red with a lot of silver hearts and squiggles on it.
    “Yeah. Wow.”
    “Because the baby’ll be here before Valentine’s Day. We’re getting so close. What do you think of Berry?”
    “What kind of berry?”
    “No, for a name, because the baby will be like our sweet little berry, and it could go for a boy or a girl.”
    “Fine, as long as it doesn’t mind being called Blueberry or Huckleberry or Boysenberry once it hits school-age.”
    “Oh, yeah. Ick. Well, we’ll keep thinking. Catch you later.”
    Imagining an enormous piece of fruit with eyes and legs inside her friend’s belly, Eve shuddered. To
    get rid of it, she contacted Whitney’s office.
    “Commander,” she began when she was put through, “I’ve had a break in the Lombard homicide.”
    * * *
    She took the elevator