"Wow."
"My thoughts exactly," Eve said. She'd hovered near the hallway waiting, not wanting Mavis to face Summerset alone. The strategy was obviously unnecessary, as the usually disdainful butler was struck dumb.
"It's just mag," Mavis said in reverent tones. "Really mag. And you've got the whole digs to yourself."
Eve sent Summerset a cool, sidelong glance. "Just about."
"Decent." With a flutter of inch-long lashes, Mavis held out a hand with interlinking hearts tattooed on the back. "And you must be Summerset. I've heard so much about you."
Summerset took the hand, so staggered he nearly lifted it to his lips before he remembered himself. "Madam," he said stiffly.
"Oh, you just call me Mavis. Great place to work, huh? You must get a hard charge out of it."
Unsure if he was appalled or enchanted, Summerset stepped back, managed a half bow, and disappeared down the hall with her dripping cloak.
"A man of few words." Mavis winked, giggled, then clattered down the hall on six-inch inflatable platforms. And let out a sensual groan at the first doorway. "You've got a real fireplace."
"A couple dozen of them, I think."
"Jesus, do you do it in front of the fire? Like in the old flicks?"
"I'll leave that up to your imagination."
"I can imagine good. Christ, Dallas, that car you sent. A real limo, a classic. It just had to be raining." She whirled back, sending her earrings dancing. "Only about half the people I wanted to impress saw me. What are we going to do first?"
"We can eat."
"I'm starving, but I've got to see the place first. Show me something."
Eve pondered. The roof terrace was incredible, but it was raining furiously. The weapon room was out, as was the target range. Eve considered those areas off limits to guests without Roarke's presence. There was plenty more, of course. Dubiously Eve studied Mavis's shoes.
"Can you really walk in those?"
"They're air glided. I hardly know I've got them on."
"All right then, we'll take the stairs. You'll see more that way."
She took Mavis to the solarium first, amused by her friend's dropped-jaw reaction to the exotic plants and trees, the sparkling waterfalls, and chattering birds. The curved glass wall was battered with rain, but through it the lights of New York gleamed.
In the music room, Eve programmed a trash band and let Mavis entertain her with a glass-shattering short set of current favorites.
They spent an hour in the game room, competing with the computer, each other, and hologram opponents at Free Zone and Apocalypse.
Mavis did a lot of oohing and aahing over the bedrooms, and finally chose the suite for her overnight stay.
"I can have a fire if I want?" Mavis ran a possessive hand over the rich lapis lazuli of the hearth.
"Sure, but it is nearly June."
"I don't care if I roast." Arms out, she took long swinging steps over the floor, gazed up through the sky dome, and plopped down on the lake-sized bed with its thick silver cushions. "I feel like a queen. No, no, an empress." She rolled over and over while the floating mattress undulated beneath her. "How do you stay normal in a place like this?"
"I don't know. I haven't lived here very long."
Still rolling lavishly from one side of the air cushions to the other, Mavis laughed. "It would only take me one night. I'm never going to be the same." Scooting up to the padded headboard, she punched buttons. Lights flickered on and off, revolved, sparkled. Music throbbed, pulsed. Water began to run in the next room.
"What's that?"
"You programmed your bath," Eve informed her.
"Oops. Not yet." Mavis flicked it off, tried another, and had the panel on the far wall sliding open to reveal a ten-foot video screen. "Definitely decent. Wanna eat?"
While Eve settled in the dining room with Mavis, enjoying her first full evening off in weeks, Nadine Furst scowled over the editing of her next broadcast.
"I want to enhance that, freeze on Dallas," she ordered the tech. "Yeah, yeah, bring her up. She looks damn good on camera."
Sitting back, she studied the five screens while the tech worked the panel. Editing Room One was quiet, but for the murmuring clash of voices from the screen. For Nadine, putting images together seamlessly was as exciting as sex. The majority of broadcasters left the process to their techs, but Nadine wanted her hand in here. Everywhere.
In the newsroom one level down, it would be bedlam. She enjoyed that, too. The scurry to beat the competition to the latest sound bite, the latest picture, the most immediate angle. Reporters manning their 'links for one more quote, bumping their computers for that last bit of data.
The competition wasn't all outside on Broadcast Avenue. There was plenty of it right in the Channel 75 newsroom.
Everybody wanted the big story, the big picture, the big ratings. Right now, she had it all. And Nadine didn't intend to lose it.
"There, hold it there, when I'm standing on Metcalf's patio. Yeah, now try a split screen, use the shot of me on the sidewalk where Towers bought it. Um-hmm." Eyes narrowed, she studied the image. She looked good, she decided. Dignified, sober-eyed. Our intrepid, clear-sighted reporter, revisiting the scenes of the crimes.
"Okay." She folded her hands and rested her chin on them. "Cue in the voice-over."
Two women, talented, dedicated, innocent. Two lives brutally ended. The city reels, looks over its shoulder, and asks why. Loving families mourn, bury their dead, and ask for justice. There is one person working to answer that question, to meet that demand.
"Freeze," Nadine ordered, "Bleed to Dallas, exterior courtroom shot. Bring up audio."
Eve's image filled the screens, full length, with Nadine beside her. That was good, Nadine, thought. The visual lent the impression they were a team, working together. Couldn't hurt. There had been the faintest of breezes, ruffling their hair. Behind them, the courthouse speared up, a monument to justice, its elevators busily gliding up and down, its glass walkway crowded with people.
My job is to find a killer, and I take my job seriously. When I finish mine, the courts begin theirs.
"Perfect." Nadine fisted her hand. "Oh yes, just perfect. Fade it there, and I'll pick it up on live. Time?"
"Three forty-five."
"Louise, I'm a genius, and you're not so bad yourself. Print it."
"Printed." Louise swiveled away from the console and stretched. They'd worked together for three years and were friends. "It's a good piece, Nadine."
"Damn right it is." Nadine angled her head. "But."
"Okay." Louise released her stubby ponytail and ran a hand through her thick, dark curls. "We're getting close to retreading here. We've had nothing new in a couple of days."
"Neither has anybody else. And I've got Dallas."
"And that's a big one." Louise was a pretty woman, soft-featured, bright-eyed. She'd come to Channel 75 direct from college. After less than a month on the job, Nadine had scooped her up as her main tech. The arrangement suited them both. "She's got a solid visual and an excellent throat. The Roarke factor adds a gold edge. That's not including the fact she's got a rep as a good cop."
"So?"
"So, I'm thinking," continued Louise, "until you get some new bites on this, you might want to splice in some of the business from the DeBlass case. Remind people our lieutenant broke one of the big ones, took a hit in the line of duty. Build up confidence."
"I don't want to take the focus off the current investigation."
"Maybe you do," Louise disagreed. "At least until there's a new lead. Or a new victim."
Nadine grinned. "A little more blood would heat things up. Another couple of days, we'll be out of the sweeps and into the June doldrums. Okay, I'll keep it in mind. You might want to put something together."
Louise cocked a brow. "I might?"
"And if I use it, you get full on-air credit, you greedy bitch."