"No." Laughing, Celina tucked her hands into her pockets. "One of these days, I predict, you'll trust me enough. Thanks," she said to Peabody. "You cleansed my palate. I'll catch a cab in a bit. I want to walk off this headache before I go home." She started to walk, directing herself away from the path they'd taken. Then she stopped, turned. There was none of the easy humor on her face now. "It's going to be soon. The next. I don't know how I know that, but I do. It's going to be very soon."
Eve watched her go, and gift or no gift, knew she was right.
CHAPTER 7
"She's really interesting." Peabody waited a beat, then slid her gaze toward Eve as they cut west, then south toward Central. "Don't you think?" "She's not a yawn. But tell me, in specifics, what did we get from this?" "Okay, not a lot that we didn't already know or believe or suspect." Peabody shifted in her seat and regretted the tea. Now she had to pee, and she knew damn well Eve wouldn't stop at a handy restaurant where the flash of a badge would get her toilet privileges. She crossed her legs tight, and tried to concentrate.
"Still, the fact is it's interesting to consult with a sensitive, one as obviously gifted as Celina. I am dependable and loyal, after all." "Just like the family schnauzer." "I prefer cocker spaniel "cause they've got those cute, floppy ears." She recrossed her legs. "And, in my experience, if a sensitive's made this sort of connection, they can get more if they focus and keep open. I think she will. She's hooked in, and wants to see it through." Eve glanced in the rearview at the blast of siren. She recognized the subtle difference in tone and identified an emergency medical vehicle an instant before the spinning red light of the medical tech wagon came into view.
She eased toward the curb, and the rat trap she was currently stuck with driving vibrated like gelatin in the wake of the speeding wagon.
"I want you to call Requisitions, the minute we get back to Central. Beg, bribe, threaten, offer sexual favors of any nature, but get us a decent ride by the end of shift." Peabody had her teeth clenched and did her best to speak through them. "Who's going to perform the sexual favors, should it come to that?" "You, Detective. I outrank you." The sacrifices I make for the badge." "Health clubs." "What?" "We're going to start checking out health clubs." "Sir, I don't think I can tone up appreciably before dispensing sexual favors if you want the vehicle by end of shift." "Jesus, Peabody, get your face out of the gutter." "Well, you put it there." Eve jockeyed through traffic. "Let us return to our sworn duty and our current investigation. If we're after a solo and there's no evidence to lead us to suspect this was a duet or gang killing this is one strong son of a bitch. Not just in shape, not muscle-bound, but a seriously strong guy.
Guy who can carry one-thirty the distance from the kill site to the dump site, and haul that much deadweight down a small cliff of rocks, probably works out regularly and seriously." "Could have his own equipment. Somebody really serious usually does." "And we're going to try tracking that, too. Full-scale home gyms to start. But if we're going to use what the psychic queen gives us, she said he was proud proud of his body.
He'd want to show it off, wouldn't he? Show what he can do." "Health club." "Health club." "Dallas, just offhand, would you care to guess how many health clubs we have in our fair city?" "We start with ones who cater primarily to men. He doesn't like women. So you scratch off the girly gyms where ladies prance around in their skin-suits and drink veggie juice or nibble nutribars before their massage. No day spa attached, no salons on premises. Forget the social clubs where guys go to play on the machines and pick up dates. Scratch off the facilities that cater primarily to same-sex orientation. The gay pickup cathedrals. We look for traditional, serious bodybuilder spots. The kind that pull in the sweaty guys with big necks." "Oooh. Sweaty guys with big necks. Hubba. Lifting face out of gutter immediately, sir." "Too late now," Eve muttered. "We can try another canvass of the victim's neighborhood. This guy surveilled her, got her routine. We go at it asking about an unusually tall, beefy guy. After you tackle Requisitions, contact the Vanderleas.
See if either of them remembers seeing someone like that around." "Check." Just a few more blocks, Peabody thought. Then she'd be able to pee. She squirmed, crossed her legs the other way.
"We run down home gym equipment: weight machines, virtual systems with bodybuilding programs. We check out subscriptions to magazines that Squirming isn't going to help, you know. You shouldn't have downed all that tea." "It's really nice of you to point that out now," Peabody shot back with some bitterness. "And squirming does too help.
Oh, thank all the gods and goddesses," she breathed when they drove into Central's garage.
Tree-Ageism pop out when your bladder's full, Detective?" "That's not all that's going to pop out." Peabody bolted from the car the instant it stopped, and ran/waddled to the elevator.
In her office, Eve glanced at her "link, noted several messages. She ordered them to play while she set up a murder board for Elisa Maplewood.
As they ran, she ordered some to delete, some to save.
Then stopped what she was doing to turn around and grin at the screen as Mavis came on.
"Hey, Dallas! We're back in town, my honey lamb and me.
Maui is just iced. Totally TPD tropical paradise deluxe.
Everything was mag. The concert, our roll-on-the-sand-naked vacation part. And guess what? The belly's completely poking out now. Honest to God, I am so knocked up. You gotta see. I'll jet by, soon as I can." Which was always a treat, Eve thought when the message ended. But if Mavis's belly really was poking out now, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to see. Why pregnant women wanted anybody to see their poked-out bellies was another mystery, and one she had no desire to solve.
She turned to the AutoChef for coffee when Nadine Furst, Channel 75's on-air ace, clicked on.
"Dallas. I know you're going to give me the usual yaddahaddah blah, but I really want to talk to you re the Maplewood case. If I don't hear from you, I'm just going to show up at your office. I'll bring you a cookie." Eve considered. It might be smart to give a short on-air, especially with the bribe of baked goods. A brief one-on-one, and woman-to-woman. His profile indicated he hated and feared the female, so wouldn't it burn his ass to be discussed on screen by two women? It might push him into making a mistake.
She'd think about it.
The thought of cookies made her hungry. With a glance at the door, she reached behind the AutoChef, under the slight lip, and tugged off the candy bar she'd taped there.
It was an obvious hiding place to her mind, but it had foiled the insidious candy thief who plagued her.
She bit righteously into chocolate, dropped down at her desk, and engaged her computer.
Your authorization code and password are not recognized.
Access denied.
"What the hell are you talking about?" She gave the machine a quick boot with the heel of her hand. "Dallas, Lieutenant Eve." She read off her badge number for authorization, repeated her password.
The computer gave a cheerful little beep, then a long grinding buzz. The screen flickered.
"Don't you start on me. First my vehicle, now this. Don't you even start."
Acknowledged. Operations shutting down.
"No! Damn it, you bitch, you son of a bitching bastard whore, you know that's not what I meant." She smacked it again, set her teeth, and repeated the start-up process.
After a series of mechanical hiccups, it hummed.
That's better. Okay. Open case file 39921SH.
Maplewood."
Acknowledged.
What flashed on-screen wasn't a case file. It wasn't police business unless the various naked couples writhing in athletic and impressive positions were a bunch of Vice cops undercover at an orgy.