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“What’s the dish on this one, Peabody?”
“Um, third-generation rich, I think. Not as mega as the vic, but not worried about the grocery bill either. I think the fam made it big in textiles or something back in the day. Anyhow, she’s another party girl and gossip channel regular.”
“Who’d want to live like that?” Eve wondered.
“They do.” Peabody gave a shrug. “You’ve got as much ready as they do, you can buy some privacy if you want it.”
Eve thought back to the acres of mirrors and reflective surfaces at the crime scene. “The type who like to see themselves.”
“Yeah, and unless Daffy and the vic were having one of their periodic fallings-out, they were pretty much joined at the hip. Played together, traveled together, and rumor has it shared some of the same men, maybe at the same time. Been tight since they were kids. Vic’s father was married to Daffy’s mother—or cohabbed, can’t remember—for a couple of years.”
“Small, incestuous little world.”
Eve glanced up. Daffodil Wheats had a short, streaky crop of blonde hair, sleepy blue eyes, and a sulky mouth. She wore a black silk robe that hit her midthigh and gaped open at the breasts so the full white mounds of them played peek-a-boo as she walked down the swirl of silver steps.
“What’s the deal?” she said in a blurry voice, then plopped down on the bright red sofa and yawned.
“Daffodil Wheats?” Eve demanded.
“Yeah, yeah. God, it’s barely dawn. Martine! I’m desperado for that mocha! I was out ’til four,” she explained with a long, feline stretch. “I didn’t do anything illegal, so what’s what with the badges?”
“You know Tiara Kent?”
“Hell, what’s Tee done now?” She slumped, obviously already bored. “Look, I’ll bail her, even if she has been a bitch lately. But I have to have my fix first. Mocha, mocha, mocha!” she shouted like an Arena Ball cheer.
“I’m sorry to tell you that Tiara Kent is dead.”
The sleepy eyes narrowed a little, then rolled dramatically. “Oh, get off. You tell Princess Bitch that dragging me out of bed to lay it on didn’t get a chuckle. Thank God! Thanks, Martine. Life saved.” She made kissy noises at the maid as she grabbed the tall white cup of steaming liquid.
“Listen up, Daffy.” Eve’s tone had the blue eyes blinking in surprise. “Your pal was murdered last night, in her bed. So you’re going to want to straighten your ass up—and cover your tits, for God’s sake—or we’re going to take the rest of this downtown.”
“That’s not funny.” Slowly now, Daffy lowered the cup. “That’s seriously un.” The hand holding the cup shook as Daffy reached out for Martine with the other. “Martine, call Estella. Call her right now and have her put Tiara on the ’link.”
“She can’t come to the ’link.” Peabody spoke now, more gently. “Ms. Kent was killed last night in her apartment.”
“My sister,” Martine said even as she gripped Daffy’s hand.
“Your sister’s fine,” Peabody told her. “You can go ahead and contact her.”
“Miss Daffy.”
“Go on,” Daffy said stiffly, and the bored young party girl was gone. In her place was a stunned young woman clutching her robe together at her throat with a trembling hand. “Go on, go on. This isn’t a joke, this isn’t Tee taking a slap at me? She’s dead?”
“Yes.”
“But…I don’t see how that can be. She’s only twenty-three. You’re not supposed to be dead at twenty-three, and we’re fighting. We can’t be fighting when she’s dead. How…Killed? Did you say somebody killed Tee?”
Now Eve sat, choosing the glossy white table in front of the sofa so she and Daffy were on a level. “She’s been seeing someone recently.”
“What? Yeah. But…” Daffy looked around blankly. “What?”
Reaching out, Eve took the cup of mocha from Daffy’s limp fingers, set it aside. “Do you know the name of the man she’s been seeing recently?”
“I…She called him her prince. Lots of times she had names for her men. This one was Prince. Dark Prince, sometimes.” Daffy pressed her hands to her eyes, then dragged them up over her face, through her hair. “She’s only been into him for a week or so. Maybe two. I can’t think.” She put her hand to her head, rubbed her temple as if she couldn’t keep her fingers still. “I can’t think.”
“Can you describe him?”
“I never met him. I was supposed to, but I didn’t. We’ve been fighting,” she repeated as tears spilled down her cheeks.
