In Death 30 - Fantasy in Death

what they have to do,” Var said. “But I’ll get in touch with Felicity. You’re right, Cill, she should know.”
    “Okay, that’s the plan.” Cill lifted her chin. “If that’s all, Lieutenant, we’d like you to go. We don’t want you here.”
    “Your attorney can contact me directly if she wants to see a copy of the warrants.” She started out, giving a quick shake of her head in case Peabody spoke before they were clear of the building.
    “Impressions?” Eve asked when they were in the vehicle.
    “Well, Cill’s got a temper. A lot of heat there.”
    “Passionate, territorial.”
    “Yeah. Benny’s protective. He was pissed, too, but he pulled it back, tried to smooth it over with Cill.”
    “He’s stuck on her.”
    “Oh yeah, he is.” Peabody nodded. “Which makes him—since there’s no sign there’s anything going on there—controlled, maybe repressed. Var seemed rocked back on his heels initially, but he recovered. Pretty seriously pissed, too. He had to take a minute to pull himself together. Insulted. They all were. A lot of people react that way to search warrants. Each of them took a role. Nobody stepped forward and said okay, you do this, you do that, I’ll take care of the other thing. Nobody’s established a clear leadership role yet.”
    “It’s subtle, but it’s there.” Eve shrugged. “Then again, maybe I’m looking for it, projecting it.”
    “Something else. Insulted and pissed, yeah, but none of them seemed especially worried about what we might find.”
    “Tracks covered. Detail-oriented. But people never cover their tracks as well as they think. We’re not going to walk in and find the murder weapon in the closet, or an e-diary of the plot. But I think it’s going to be interesting, whatever we do find. We’ll start at Cill’s.”
     
    She pulled up at the nondescript three-story building. “You know, they all live within easy walking distance of work and each other. Bart, he goes for a little jazz. Doorman, penthouse, multilevel. Not so fancy inside, but the foundation is. Cill goes for the loft. A little more bohemian. Not as many people living inside the building.”
    “Good building security though,” Peabody pointed out.
    “Yeah. I bet she had a hand in that. Who’s on this one?”
    “I put Jenkinson and Reineke—they’re pretty clear after closing a case this morning. I’ve got McNab with them. I’ll check on their ETA.”
    “Do that,” Eve said as her own ’link signaled. She lifted her brows as she scanned the readout. “That was quick,” she commented. “It’s the lawyer. Dallas,” she said.
    She did the dance, then signaled for Peabody to go ahead inside when the team arrived. Before she’d finished with the lawyer, Benny came down the sidewalk at a steady jog.
    Changed his shoes, she noted. He’d been wearing dress shoes with his memorial suit, as had his partners. Now he bolted up the short steps to the entrance in black-and-white running shoes that showed some wear.
    She slid her ’link back in her pocket as he keyed himself in.
    He’d never even noticed her, she mused. Too focused on the mission at hand.
    She went in, and up an elevator designed to resemble an old cage type. But its guts were fully 2060. She ordered Cill’s third-floor loft, and obeyed the computer’s request for her name, her business, then a badge scan.
    The team had already begun their work when she stepped into a wide and open living area. Benny stood, hands in his pockets. Fists, she corrected. Seriously pissed.
    “She’s very private with outsiders,” he said to Eve. “This has really spun her out. She’s already down, and now this.”
    “We all do what we have to do. A lot of space,” she added, glancing around at the bright, cheerful colors, the framed comp art, the triple screens, the cushy chairs.
    “So what? It’s not a crime to like space.”
    “Never said it was. You’ll want to chill, Benny. It’s going to be a long day.”
    She wandered through, glanced at the kitchen, which appeared to actually be used to cook. A few dishes scattered the counter, the sink.
    Eve opened the fridge, noted some brews, some soft drinks—heavy on the power type—water, milk that had expired the day before, some sort of lettuce that seemed to be wilting.
    Hasn’t been shopping for a while, she thought.
    “Do you expect to find a clue in the damn fridge?” Benny demanded.
    Eve closed it, turned so they were face-to-face. She read passion on