by J. D. Robb
“He threatened her life, and you didn’t tell me. I was here before, and I questioned you.”
“No, I didn’t tell you. I considered it no more than a clash of wills, his against mine. He was no more than a pawn. I didn’t require HPS to intuit that. He only wanted to upset me, to prove his superiority. His way of doing so was to describe, graphically, what he had done to Alice sexually.” She drew another breath. “And he told me that I had been promised to him. That when I was taken in, when my power was crushed, he would be the first to lay hands on me. Then he told me what he intended to do and how much I would enjoy it. He invited me to sample some of his many talents then and there, so that I would see how much more of a man he was than Chas. I laughed at him.”
“Did he assault you?”
“He pushed me. He was angry. I’d deliberately baited him into it. Then I used it. An old spell,” she said with a flick of her hand. “What you might call a mirror or boomerang spell, so that what he was sending toward me—all the darkness, the violence, the hate—was reflected back at him, and when reflected, enlarged.” She smiled a little. “He left quickly, and very frightened. He didn’t come back.”
“And you were frightened?”
“Yes, on a physical level, I was.”
“You called Forte.”
“He’s my mate.” Isis lifted her chin. “I have no secrets from him, and I depend on him.”
“He’d have been angry.”
“No.” Eyes level, she shook her head. “Concerned, yes. We cast a circle, performed a rite for protection and for purification. We were content. I should have seen,” she continued, with regret shimmering in her voice. “I should have seen that Alice was their goal. Pride made me believe they would turn on me, that they wouldn’t dare touch her while she was under my protection. Maybe I wasn’t as honest with you as I might have been, Dallas, because without my pride blinding me, I know Alice might still be alive.”
Guilt was there, Eve decided as she drove off to pick up Peabody. And guilt could lead to retribution. Frank and Alice had been killed by a different method than Lobar and Wineburg. The deaths were connected, she was certain, but the connection didn’t mean they’d all been committed by the same hand.
She wanted to get back to Central, run a probability scan. There was enough data for it now. And if the numbers warranted it, she could go to Whitney and request the manpower for a twenty-four-seven watch on both groups of suspects.
Damn the budget, she thought as she fought traffic. She’d need a high probability ratio to wangle the expense of time, money, and manpower. But Peabody and Feeney weren’t enough to keep round-the-clock tabs on everyone involved.
Including Jamie, she thought. The kid was looking for trouble. She believed he was smart enough to find it.
Peabody hopped in when Eve swung to the curb at Seventh and Forty-seventh. Across the sidewalk, the rowdy noise and computerized warfare of a VR den spilled out of the open doorway. It nicked the ordinance on noise pollution, but Eve figured the proprietors were willing to risk a fine or two in order to lure in tourists and the bored.
“He in there?”
“Yes, sir.” Peabody looked hopefully at the rising steam from a glida grill. She could smell fresh soy burgers and oil fries. It was near enough to lunch to make her stomach yearn and her heart sink at the thought of facing the slop served at the Eatery back at Central. “Do you mind if I grab something from this cart?”
Eve shot an impatient look out the window. “Aren’t you supposed to starve a cold or something?”
“I never could keep that straight. Anyway,” Peabody took a long deep breath through her nose, “I feel great. That tea did the trick.”
“Yeah, yeah. Make it quick, and eat it on the way.”
“Do you want anything?” Peabody asked over her shoulder as she pushed out of the car.
“No. Snap it up and let’s roll.”
Drugs, sex, Satan, and power, Eve mused. A religious war? Hadn’t humans fought and died for beliefs since the dawn of time? Animals fought for territory; people fought for territory as well. And for gain, for passion, for beliefs. For the hell of it.
They killed, she thought, very much for the same reasons.
“Got two of everything,” Peabody announced and set the thin cardboard filled with food on the seat between them. “Just in case. If you don’t want it, I can probably choke it down. It’s the first time I’ve had an appetite in two days.”
She bit into the loaded burger while Eve waited for a break in traffic. “The kid led me on quite a route. Walked off his mad for ten blocks, caught an uptown tram, got off, headed west. And talk about appetite. He hit a cart on Sixth and downed two real pig dogs, and a mega scoop of fries. Hit another a block down for an orange Freezie, which happens to be a personal favorite of mine. Before he went into the VR den, he tagged this guy for three candy bars.”
“Growing boy,” Eve commented, and shot out like a bullet when she saw a slim gap in traffic. Horns bellowed in protest. “As long as he’s eating junk and playing VR, he should stay out of trouble.”
Inside the whoops and whistles of the arcade, Jamie sneered at the holograms battling on his personal screen. He listened to the exchange in Eve’s car, courtesy of his earpiece, and the micro recorder and location device he’d planted.
Yeah, it had been worth the risk, he decided, diddling with the VR controls with his mind wandering. Of course, it hadn’t been that much of a challenge. Not only was the cop car a rolling heap of refuse, but its security system was rinky. At least when it came up against the skills of the master of electronics.
Dallas wouldn’t tell him what was going on, he thought grimly and destroyed the holo image of an urban tough. He’d just keep tabs on things his own way. And he’d deal with things his own way.
Whoever had killed his sister had better prepare to die.
Eve ran the probability program with mixed results. The computer agreed, by a ninety-six percentile, that the four cases were connected. The numbers dropped ten points when it came to tagging different perpetrators.
Charles Forte scored high on the index, as did Selina Cross. For Alban, she continued to run up against insufficient data.
Frustrated, she buzzed Feeney. “I’ve got some data I want to download on you. For a probability scan. Can you see what you can do with the numbers?”
He wiggled his brows. “You want them higher or lower?”
She laughed, shook her head. “I want them higher, but I want it solid. Could be I’m missing something.”
“Shoot it over, I’ll take a look.”
“Appreciate it. And there’s something else. I’m running into blanks every time I try to access data on this Alban character. The guys in his thirties. There has to be more on him. I’m not getting education, medical, family history. There’s no criminal record, not even an illegal zone stop. My take is he had it wiped.”
“Takes a lot of talent and a lot of money to wipe it clean. Something’s always somewhere.”
She thought of Roarke, and the suspiciously limited data on record. Well, he had a lot of talent, she reminded herself. And a lot of money. “I figured if anybody could find anything…”
“Yeah, flatter me, kid.” He winked. “I’ll get back to you.”
“Thanks, Feeney.”
“Was that Feeney?” Mavis bounced in, literally, on new air pump, stack-heeled, neon yellow sneakers. “Shoot, you zipped off. I wanted to talk to him.”
Eve ran her tongue around her teeth. Mavis was decked out in classic Mavis style. Her hair matched her sneakers and made the eyes burn. She wore it in a spiral mass of curls that exploded up as much as down. Her slacks were glossy simulated rubber, dipped well below the glinting red stone in her navel, and hugged every curve. Her blouse, if it could be called that, was a snug band of material that matched the slacks and almost covered her breasts.
Over it all she wore a transparent duster.
“Anybody try to arrest you on
the way in?”
“No, but I think the desk sergeant had an orgasm.” Mavis fluttered emerald green lashes and dropped into a chair. “Great outfit, huh? Just off Leonardo’s drawing board. So, are you ready?”
“Ready? For what?”
“We’ve got a salon date. Trina shuffled you in. I left the message on your unit. Twice.” She narrowed her eyes at Eve. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get it, because I know you did. You logged it out.”
Logged it out, Eve remembered. And ignored it. “Mavis, I don’t have time to play hair.”
“You haven’t taken lunch today. I checked with the desk sarge,” Mavis said smugly. “Before his orgasm. You can eat while Trina whips you into shape.”
“I don’t want to be whipped into shape.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if you hadn’t hacked at it again yourself.” Mavis rose, picked up Eve’s jacket. “You might as well come quietly. I’m just going to keep hounding you. Log out for lunch, take an hour. You’ll be back and making our city safe by one thirty.”
Because it was easier than arguing, Eve snatched the jacket, shrugged it on. “Just the hair. I’m not having her put all the gunk on my face.”
“Dallas, relax.” Mavis began to tug her out. “Enjoy being a girl.”
Eve snapped out her log book to mark time, scanning Mavis’s rubber clad butt bouncing along. “I don’t think that means the same thing to you as it does to me.”
Maybe it was the fumes—the potions and lotions, the oils and dyes and lacquers so typical in salons—but Eve found inspiration striking as she tipped back in her treatment chair.
She wasn’t sure how they’d gotten her to take off her clothes, submit to the indignity of the body smoother, the facial, the poking and prodding. She had managed to put her foot down—her bare, now toenail-painted foot down—when the discussion had veered toward temporary tattoos and body piercing.
Otherwise, she was a hostage, coated with goop, her hair covered with the spermlike cream Trina swore by. Privately, she could admit she was deeply terrified of Trina with her snapping scissors and green glop. That’s why she kept her eyes shut during the procedure, so as not to imagine herself emerging looking like a Trina clone with frizzed fuchsia hair and torpedo breasts.
“Been too long,” Trina lectured. “I told you, you need regular treatments. You got the basics, but you don’t enhance, you lose the edge. If you came in regular, it wouldn’t take so long to bring you back.”
She didn’t want to be brought back, Eve thought. She wanted to be left alone. She suppressed a shudder as she felt something buzzing around her eyes. Brow shaping, she reminded herself and struggled to calm. Trina was not tattooing a smiley face on her forehead.
“I’ve got to get back. I’ve got work.”
“Don’t rush me. Magic takes time.”
Magic, Eve thought and rolled her eyes, causing Trina to hiss at her. Everybody was obsessed with magic, it seemed.
She frowned, listening to Mavis chirp happily about a new body polish that gave the skin a gold glow. “This is mag, Trina. I’ve got to try it full body. Leonardo would lap it up.”
“You can get it temp, and edible. Six flavors on the market now. Apricot’s real popular.”
Potions and lotions, Eve thought. Smoke and mirrors. Rites and rituals. She opened her eyes to slits, saw Mavis and Trina huddled over a vial of gold liquid. Mavis with her neon hair, she thought with odd affection, Trina with her pink frizz.
Weird sisters.
Weird sisters, she thought again and sat up. Trina let out another hiss.
“Back down, Dallas. You got two minutes left.”
“Mavis, you said you used to run a psychic con.”
“Sure.” Mavis fluttered her newly painted neon nails. “Madam Electra sees all, knows all. Or Ariel, the sad-eyed sprite.” She dipped her head, managed to look delicate and forlorn. “I guess I had about six grifts on that theme.”
“You could spot somebody pulling the same grift?”
“Shit, are you kidding? From three blocks with sunshades on.”
“You were good,” Eve considered. “I never saw you in that gig, but you were good in the others.”
“You busted me.”
“I’m better.” Eve flashed a smile and felt the glop on her face ooze. “Listen; there’s this place you could check out for me,” she began as Trina marched over and shoved her back into the horizontal. “Both of you,” she added, eyeing Trina.
“Hey, is this a cop deal?”
“Maybe.”
“Frigid,” Trina said and pushed Eve back toward the rinsing bowl.
“You could scope it out.” Eve squeezed her eyes shut as water flooded. “See if you can get the clerk—her name’s Jane—to talk. Give me a rundown. They don’t come clean with cops.”
“Who does?” Trina wanted to know.
“I want impressions,” Eve continued. “You’re interested in herbs, in mind expansion, love potions, sex enhancers. Soothers.”
“Illegals?” It didn’t take Mavis long to catch on. “You think they might be dealing?”
“It’s a possibility I need to confirm or eliminate. You could spot it every bit as quick as an undercover. And you could spot a grift. If they’re hosing customers. If they’re playing any cons. The money’s coming from somewhere.”
“This could rock, Mavis.” Trina grinned. “You and me, a couple of detectives. Like Sherlock and Dr. Jekyll.”
“Decent. I thought it was Dr. Holmes, though.”
Eve closed her eyes again.
Must be the fumes, she decided.
When she arrived home, Mavis and Trina were there, entertaining Roarke with their exploits. Eve scooped up the cat and followed the laughter.
“I bought this lotion to rub on,” Trina was saying. “It’s supposed to bring out the animal in men. Like pheromones.” She stuck her long arm under Roarke’s nose. “What’s it do for you?”
“If I wasn’t married to a woman who carries a weapon, I’d…” He trailed off, grinned. “Hello, darling.”
“You could finish the thought,” Eve told him and dumped Galahad in his lap.
“I’ll wait until you’re unarmed.”
“Dallas, it was so, so decent.” Mavis popped up, waving her glass of wine so that the straw-colored liquid sloshed to the rim. “I can’t wait to get home and tell Leonardo. But Trina and I, we wanted to grab some nutrition, you know, and come right over and report. You should see all the stuff I bought.”
She started to dive into one of several shopping bags with the Spirit Quest logo. Eve resisted groaning and tugged Mavis’s arm. “Talk now, show later. I must have lost my mind, sending the two of you in there. I tell you,” she said whirling to Roarke. “It’s the fumes in those places. That’s what makes people sit there and let themselves be shaved and painted and pierced.”
His eyes clouded briefly. “Pierced? Where, exactly?”
“Oh, she wouldn’t go for the nipple job.” Trina waved a hand. “Said she’d zap me if I came near her with the jabber.”
“Good girl,” Roarke murmured. “I’m proud of your restraint.”
Because her head was starting to ache, Eve poured herself a glass of wine. “Did the two of you do anything in there but spend your credits?”
“We had readings,” Mavis told her. “Genuinely iced. I’ve got an adventurous soul, and my narcissism is balanced by a generous heart.”
Eve couldn’t help it; she laughed. “You don’t have to be psychic to read that one, Mavis. You just have to have eyes. You did go in dressed like that, right?”
Mavis dangled her neon sneaker. “Sure. Jane, the clerk, was real helpful, seemed to know her herbs. We judged her sincere, right Trina?”
“Jane was sincere,” Trina agreed, soberly. “Kinda dull. I could fix her up with a couple sessions. A little highlighter, some body work. Now, the goddess, hard to improve on that one.”
“Isis.” Eve sat up. “She was there?”
&nbs
p; “She came out of the back while we were doing the herb thing,” Mavis put in. “I was saying how I wanted something to improve my performance level, boost my stage energy. See, when you’re working a grift, you hang better if you believe the con. So if you can do true, it’s mag.”
“I was looking for sex stuff.” Trina smiled sinuously. “Stuff to attract men, lift sexual performance. And I said how I had this stressful job. Kept me tense and edgy. Over-the-counters just weren’t cutting it for me. So I thought they might have something more potent, and I didn’t mind the cost.”
“They had lots of blends.” Mavis took up the story. “I didn’t see anything off. Fact is, she said how drugs weren’t the answer. What we wanted was the natural way. Like holistic.”
“Holistic,” Trina agreed. “We nudged her, flashed credits and stuff, but she wasn’t buying. Or I guess that would be selling.”
“The Amazon Queen went into the back.” Mavis picked up the story. “Came back with this mix.” Hair flying, Mavis dug into her shopping bag, tossed the smaller, clear bag to Eve. “Said I should sample it, and wouldn’t charge me. She wants me to let her know if it worked for me. You can test it out, but I’d say it’s clean.”
“Who gave you the reading?”
“Isis. She didn’t look too keen when she came in.” Mavis tipped back her glass. “We were playing it up, you know. I went with the wide-eyed giggle act. Oohed and aahed a lot over the stock.”
Eve shifted her gaze to the shopping bags. “I see you carried the act through.”
“I liked the stuff.” Mavis grinned, unrepentant. “Then AQ, you know, Amazon Queen, she started to get into it. I had my sights on this A-one crystal ball, a green one. What did she call it, Trina?”
“Tourma-something.”
“Tourmaline,” Roarke provided.
“Yeah, right. Tourmaline. She steered me away, said it was for relaxing, for soothing, and if I wanted energy, I should go for the orange one. For, like, vitality.”
“More expensive?” Eve assumed.
“No, cheaper. Way cheaper. She said how the green one wasn’t for me. She thought I had a friend who could use it, someone close to me who carried too much stress. But she should choose it for herself, when she was ready.”