Framed in Death (In Death, #61)

by J.D. Robb

“Damn nice job,” Bella repeated, and got a narrow look from Eve. “How come you can swear with prefect pronunciation?”

Ain't it so true... 😂 However: "prefect" ??? How do prefects pronounce words?

young man wearing a fancy blue jacket with a lacy white color,

Wow. Did the proofreaders, which should amount to something substantial given the author, all go on strike? Since I've never heard of a "color" listed as a physical garment, I'm guessing collar is what was intended. Color?? Not really even close. Are we resorting to AI for the proofreading now?

A woman in boots up to her crotch, blond hair down to her ass, and a red dress barely covering either body part strode along the sidewalk. A man trying to one-eighty his head on his neck to keep her in view walked hard into a recycler.

‘Damn it, Cath, where’s my breakfast?’ What do you do?” “It’s difficult to say, as I’ve never been in that specific situation.” “I’ll tell you what you’d do, you’d do just like I did. I said: ‘Here’s your breakfast, Charlie,’ and gave him a good smack with a frypan.

“Breakfast, my ass,” she said as they escorted her off. “You’d do the same!” she shouted back at Eve. Eve thought, no. Why would she use a frypan when she had a perfectly good fist?

She’s not wet, but the dress, where it’s laying on the ground? It’s damp, so the body was placed here after four.” She eased a hand behind the body. “Dry on the back, and the ground’s pretty dry now. What time was the nine-one-one?”

Lying, not laying.

As she put on the trousers, pulled on the T-shirt, Roarke carried the plates and domes into his closet. Amused, she watched him come out, firmly close the door as she buttoned on the vest. “Really?” “He needs to learn not to lap at dishes.” “Next, you’ll put the breakfast stuff in your closet safe.” “If needs be.”

see next note

And from her vantage point, watched the cat manage to open the closet just enough to squeeze his bulk through. “Roarke.” He glanced over where she nodded. “Well, fuck me.” He marched to the closet, came back out with a disappointed Galahad. “Banishment it is then.” As he put the cat out of the room, Eve’s ’link signaled.

Okay. Entertaining, but with all the futuristic tech and gadgets tons of money and imagination can buy, there isn't some magical facility to stash the dirty dishes in, where they're automatically cleaned and any leftover scraps are whisked off to some manner of near-magical composting drain? Not buying it. However the Auto Chef units work---a bit of fiction that's, to my mind, as unrealistic as it gets---the cleanup should be equally easy and unbelievable.

defense contends denying bail until the trial is concluded would be undo punishment.

The proofreaders, if any, were really asleep at the wheel with this book. It's undue, not undo.