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“A dollhouse. She’s young for it, but we had her up for a few hours a few days ago, and I’d sent for mine. It’s just a little one my dad made me, but she went nuts for it. Played with it the whole time, and really well, too, rearranging the little furniture, pretend cooking in the kitchen.”
Eve wondered why—seriously why—anyone wanted to pretend cook.
“If dolls aren’t alive, why do they need a house?”
“That’s where pretend comes into it.”
“Does it
? Does it really? Or is it when you’re sleeping or not around they start having parties in it, drinking brew, eating snacks, watching screen?”
“You’re creeping me out.”
“You should be creeped. What’s to stop them from having doll orgies in there? Ever think of that?”
“Not until right now.”
“Next thing you know, there’ll be doll weapons and vehicles.”
“They already have those.”
“See.”
Point made, Eve turned to the sturdy building that housed Carlee MacKensie’s apartment. She opted for her master—Why give the woman time to prepare?—and walked into the skinny lobby.
“I have to pee. You scared the piss out of me, now I have to pee. Don’t make me walk up four flights of steps.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” To settle it, Peabody pushed the elevator button. “I can’t get this image of a bunch of drunk dolls doing it all over the dollhouse. Gay dolls, straight dolls, threesomes. It’s my new nightmare.”
“They probably make doll strap-ons.”
“Oh God, I beg you to stop.” Peabody all but jumped into the elevator when it opened. “Loose pants, loose pants. Don’t kick my ass, I’m trying to take my mind off having to pee. And sex-crazed dolls. I’m seeing Gracie Magill with a strap-on.”
“Who?”
“My favorite doll as a kid. Loose pants, loose pants.”
“You had a doll with a last name?” Eve pressed the buzzer on the MacKensie apartment. “Why do dolls need last names?”
“For their ID, to buy the brew and the strap-ons.”
“I figured they just stole them when they climbed in and out of windows at night to burgle houses.”
“You’re just being mean now.”
“I could keep this up all day.”
The intercom buzzed. “Yes?” And Peabody breathed a quiet, “Thank you, Jesus.”
“NYPSD,” Eve announced, and held up her badge. “We’d like to speak with you, Ms. MacKensie.”
“What about?”
“Edward Mira.”
After a moment, locks clicked off, the door opened a couple cautious inches. Eve saw pale red hair messily bundled into a top bun and a pair of suspicious blue eyes.
