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“You’re not authorized to attempt to seduce the primary investigator at this time.”
“I’ve vast experience in breaking the law.” He found her mouth, sank in.
“Wow. They always look so hot.”
Mavis Freestone stood in the doorway in four-inch platform boots that rode up to her crotch in shiny, eyewatering pink. Her hair, tinted to match, seemed to burst out of her head in an explosive topknot. With it, she wore a skimmer in dizzying swirls of pink and blue that fluttered down to meet the top of the boots.
She beamed smiles set off by sparkling face studs fixed to the corners of her mouth.
Beside her Trina, her own hair in a foot-high ebony mountain, snorted. “If this is part of the fringe bennies on cop work, I want a badge.”
Eve’s fingers dug reflexively into Roarke’s arm. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Whatever you do, don’t leave me.”
“Be strong. Good evening, ladies.”
“Leonardo’s bopping over later. He had stuff. Summerset said to come right up.” Mavis danced into the room. “We gave thumb’s-up to snacks. We’ve got all kinds of goodies to try out on you, Dallas. This is so ultra mag.”
Eve’s stomach turned. “Whoopee.”
“Where do you want me to set up?” Trina asked and was already studying Eve in a way that made the kick-ass cop want to whimper like a baby.
“In my office. This is an official consult, not a personal treatment.”
“Whatever.” Trina blew an enormous purple bubble, snapped the gum back. “Show me what you want to look like, and I’ll make it happen.”
In her office, Eve put Stefanie Finch’s official ID photo on-screen and managed not to yelp when Trina took her face in her hands. Hands with inch-long sapphire nails.
“Mm-hmm. You know, lip dye isn’t a crime in this state. You ought to try it.”
“I’ve been kind of busy.”
“You’re always kind of busy. You’re not using the eye gel I gave you. You can’t find a minute twice a day for eye gel? You want bags and wrinkles? You got the finest piece of man-candy on and off planet, and you want him looking at your face with bags and wrinkles? What are you going to do when he dumps you for a woman who takes time to maintain her face?”
“Kill him.”
That made Trina laugh and sent the little sapphire she had centered on her left eyetooth winking. “Easier to use the gel. I need a photo of you, put it split screen with the image you want. I need to run some morph programs before we start playing with your face.”
“Sure.” Grabbing the reprieve, Eve went to her computer.
“Cocktail meatballs! Frigid!” Mavis snagged one from the tray Summerset carried in. “Summerset, you’re the summit.”
His face transformed. It always surprised Eve that he could smile and his face not crack to pieces. “Enjoy. If you’d like anything else, just let me know. And the AutoChef has been fully restocked.”
“You ought to stay and watch.” Mavis speared a second meatball. “We’re going to make Dallas into someone else.”
“That,” Summerset s
aid with his smile going thin and sour as a lemon slice when he glanced toward Eve, “is the answer to a prayer. And while tempting, I’ll leave you to your work.”
“He’s such a kidder,” Mavis said when he walked out.
“Oh yeah, he really cracks me up. There’s your image,” Eve told Trina. “I’ve got to check some data in the other room. Just let me know when you’re ready for me.”
She went back into Roarke and was met with a cup of coffee. “Though I imagine you could use a stiff drink, I assumed you’d opt for coffee.”
“Thanks. She’s got three cases, three, filled with her hideous devices of torture.” She took a bracing gulp of coffee. “I should put in for hazardous duty pay for this.” She turned toward the wall screen. “Let’s see who we’ve got.”
She leaned back on Roarke’s desk and studied the images and data, one by one.
