In Death 30 - Fantasy in Death

should have! He might’ve come.”
    “I’m thinking of having a big one next month—full costumes, props, the whole banana. Like kind of a tribute.”
    “If you do, let me know.” She pulled out a card. “I might be able to get you some attention, and arrange for some freebies.”
    “Hey, that’d be total. I heard a lot about Bart’s collection. I relate there, too.”
    “I’ll say. My boy likes weapons, especially the phallic ones,” Peabody added with a wink. “We’ve got our game room loaded with them. We’re always on the lookout for something really tight. I like to find them and surprise him.”
    “They’ve got a terrific weapons display up a level.”
    “Yeah, we’re heading up there.”
    “Ask for Razor, show him my card. I don’t know a lot about weapon collecting, but he knows everything. If it exists, in any form, he can find it, get it, sell it.”
    “Frosty. Razor.” McNab glanced at the poster again. “I sure hope they get whoever did it.”
    “We all do.”
    As they left the booth, Peabody unzipped a pocket for her beeping ’link. After a glance at the display, she switched to privacy mode. “Hi, Mom!”
    “Cute,” Eve said. “I’m—what the hell do you have on your face? And your hair’s all screwy.”
    “Undercover, remember?” Peabody muttered. “I’m blending.”
    “Where? At the Geek Skank Parade?”
    Peabody narrowed her eyes. “What do you know about geek skanks? And who’s here because they do know?”
    “Point taken, so never mind. I’m on my way back to Central.
    Report, Detective Skank.”
    “Ha-ha-ha.” Peabody sniffed. “We haven’t been here long, so we’re still feeling our way. But we just had a nice talk with one of the reps at the U-Play booth. They’ve got it draped in black, got a big picture of Bart—and they’re running a discount on for-sale merchandise due to death. Business is brisk.”
    “Death sale? Interesting. I wonder whose brainchild that was.”
    “We’re heading up to Weapons now. The rep gave us a contact.”
    “Good. Let me know if you get a hit. How many times have you stopped to play games?”
    “Not once. I swear.”
    “Well, play something, for Christ’s sake. You’re supposed to be players. You can’t blend by skank alone.”
    “You know, I’m starting to take the skank as a compliment. Game play’s on the slate.”
    “And get back here asap. Feeney’s bitching about losing his boy.”
    “We’re—” Peabody blew out a breath as Eve broke transmission. “Do I look like a skanky geek or a geeky skank?”
    “If those are my only two choices, I abstain. I think you look like my one and only She-body, supreme.”
    “That’s a really good answer.” She grabbed his hand, and continued to the third level. “Anyway, we’re supposed to get a hit, play games, and get back asap.”
    But McNab didn’t respond. He stood, dazzled, circling slowly.
    Blasters, battle-axes, peacemakers, swords, sabers, lightning discs, and more and more. Some shined, some glowed, some shimmered at the edges—and many did so behind security glass and lock.
    Peabody snapped her fingers under his nose.
    He blinked, grinned. “Just staying in character.”
    “You’re a character all right. What is it about things that maim, hack, and kill?”
    “I like things that blast better.” He made a credible blasting noise and grinned again. “But today, I’m all about the sword. Let’s find Razor.”
    It took nearly an hour, but Peabody didn’t have the heart to rush him. Plus, he unquestionably looked like a geek mesmerized by weapons, which was part of the point. He talked the talk with any number of attendees, collectors, reps—and got points for remembering he was supposed to be a sword guy rather than a blaster guy.
    She left him long enough to go to Vending for a couple of fizzies. When she came back he stood holding a mean three-bladed weapon that sizzled with zagging red lights as he turned it.
    “Hey, baby, check it out! Master’s tri-sword from Edge of Doom. It’s one of the originals used in the vid.”
    “I thought you had that already?”
    “No, no, you’re thinking of the trident from Poseidon’s Rage.”
    “Okay.” She handed him the fizzy.
    “This is my Dee-Light,” he said with a wink at the short, stocky man with a gleaming head adorned with tattoos. “This is Razor.”
    “Right. The rep downstairs said you were the man.”
    “Weapons rule, and I rule the weapons.” He gestured toward the