Ceremony In Death

"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 a

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."

– =O=-***-=O=-

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.

– =O=-***-=O=-

Eve ran the probability program with mixed results. The computer agreed, by a ninety-six percentile, that the four cases were co

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 ru

"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, sca

– =O=-***-=O=-

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."