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It irritated her to jump through hoops. Every time she cleared one, there was another stack to hurdle. No amount of reason, demand, or threat got her through the maze of assistants, staffers, coordinators, and personal attendants to Carmichael Smith or Niles Renquist.
She was forced to settle for appointments the following day.
Which might have made her slightly less than diplomatic with the blonde touting herself as Mr. Fortney’s social secretary.
“This isn’t a social call. See this?” Eve all but pressed her badge to the woman’s nose. “This means I’m probably not feeling particularly sociable. This is what we NYPSD people like to call an official inquiry.”
The blonde set her face into stern lines and succeeded in looking like a cranky baby doll. “Mr. Fortney is very busy,” she said in an indignant lisp Eve just bet some brainless guy found sexy. “He can’t be disturbed.”
“If you don’t tell your boss that Lieutenant Dallas of the NYPSD is out here waiting to speak to him, everyone in this building’s going to be disturbed.”
“He’s unavailable.”
Eve had taken that line on Smith, who might very well have been at his health center having a complete physical workup. And she’d taken it on Renquist, who quite possibly had been in back-to-back meetings with various heads of state.
But she wasn’t taking it from some actress’s bimbo companion.
“Peabody,” she said without taking her eyes off the blonde, “call for an Illegals sweep. I believe I smell Zoner.”
“What are you talking about? That’s just silly.” Obviously incensed, the blonde danced on her four-inch platforms that had her impressive breasts bobbing like soccer balls. “You can’t do something like that.”
“Oh, I bet I can. And you know what happens sometimes, on an Illegals sweep? It leaks to the media. Especially when there’s a celebrity type involved. I bet Ms. Franklin’s going to be a little annoyed about that.”
“If you think you can intimidate me into—”
“Illegals team will be here within thirty, Lieutenant.” Peabody tried her cold cop voice. She’d been practicing. “You’re authorized to lock down the building.”
“Thank you, Officer. That was quick work. With me.”
“What?” The blonde clattered after her as Eve strode out of the office. “Where are you going? What are you doing?”
“I’m going to lock down. Once a sweep’s been authorized, no one is allowed to enter or leave the premises.”
“You can’t—Don’t.” She grabbed Eve’s arm.
“Oh-oh?” Eve paused enough to look at the lily-white hand with its baby pink nails that clutched her sleeve. “That might be construed as assaulting an officer, and an attempt to obstruct a police investigation. Since you seem a little dim to me, I’ll just cuff you instead of knocking you on your ass, then cuffing you.”
“I wasn’t!” The blonde dropped Eve’s arm as if it had burst into flame, and scrambled back. “I didn’t! Oh, damn it, okay, okay, o-kay! I’ll tell Leo.”
“Hmm. You know, Peabody.” Eve took another testing sniff of air. “I don’t think that’s Zoner after all.”
“I think you’re right, Lieutenant. I think it’s gardenia.” Peabody let the grin spread as the blonde rushed back into the office. “She must be dim if she thinks you can call for a sweep that way.”
“Dim or guilty. Bet she’s got a little goodie stash in here. Who did you call?” Eve asked.
“Weather. It’s hot, and it’s going to stay hot. In case you wondered.”
Chin up, the blonde stepped out again, and announced in her best lisp, “Mr. Fortney will see you now.”
Eve followed in the wake of the woman’s intense dislike.
Fortney was set up in one of the five office suites. The area appeared to have been decorated by the color-blind or the insane—possibly both—as even Eve’s casual sense of style was bombarded with the clashing colors and patterns that dominated walls, floors, ceiling.
Fortney’s space had taken it one step further by adding animal prints that ran rampant over the walls in a jungle madness of leopard spots, tiger stripes, and splotches of unknown wildlife. Clear tables fashioned of glossy plates atop oddly phallic columns were used as accents.
His desk was a larger version of the tables, with the penis-like columns painted a virulent red. He was pacing behind it as they entered, talking rapidly into a headset.
“We need to move on this within twenty-four. Up or down, no in between. I’ve got the outline, the projections, and the Q-factor. Let’s wrap it up.”
