Fantasy in Death (In Death, #30)

by J.D. Robb

his server droid—custom-made to replicate Princess Leia, classic Star Wars, slave-girl mode (he was a nerd, but he was still a guy)—

strolled out to offer him his favorite orange fizzy with crushed ice.

“June’s supposed to be daisies and wafty breezes.” Peabody waved a hand in the air. “Instead we’re getting thunder boomers and humiture to kill.” “I like the boomers.” Peabody’s dark eyes narrowed as she studied Eve’s angular face. “You probably had lots of sex last night. You’re almost perky.” “Shut up. I’m never perky.” “Almost. You’re verging on perk.” “You’re verging on a boot up the ass.” “That’s better anyway.”

EVE HEARD MCNAB BEFORE SHE SAW HIM. IF he’d been a teenaged girl instead of a grown man she’d have called the sound he made a squeal. “Holy jumping Jesus! This place is iced to the cube!” “Settle down, boy. This is a crime scene.” She caught Feeney’s reprimand, but she recognized the edge of excitement in his tone. The EDD captain and her former partner wasn’t just a grown man, she thought, but a freaking grandfather. Still, maybe e-geeks were always kids under the skin. “Somebody should say something. Like a prayer.” And they’d brought Callendar. The reverential whisper made Eve shake her head.

He nodded toward the head. “From the spatter and pool, it appears that part of him left this part of him in a hurry, went splat—” “Is that a medical term?” “Of course. Splat and roll.

“My guy’s so slimy if I stepped on him I wouldn’t wipe him off my shoe, I’d just incinerate the shoe.

Where’s your candy?” “What candy?” He gave her a look. “I know very well you hide candy in here. I need a boost. Give it over.” Her frown deepened, and she tracked her gaze toward the door. “Don’t let anybody come in. It’s a damn good hiding place.” “You know, you could easily rig a cam in here, and catch whoever’s lifting your stash in the act.” “One day I’ll catch the candy thief, but it’ll be by guile and wit, not technology. It’s a matter of pride and principle now.” She took a tool from her desk, then squatted in front of her recycler. After a few twists, she removed the facing and pulled an evidence bag from the back. “Your guile and wit contest causes you to keep candy in the recycler, with the trash?” “It’s sealed.” She broke the seal with a little pop and whoosh to prove it, then took out one of

three chocolate bars. She tossed it to him, then bagged the remaining two with a fresh seal before hiding them again. She glanced back to see him studying the candy. “If you’re going to be so dainty give it back.” “There was a time I rooted through alley garbage for food, without a thought. Things change.” He unwrapped the candy, took a bite. “But apparently not that much.”

“DO YOU THINK THE PENIS EVER GETS TIRED?” As she drove, Eve turned her head toward Peabody, tipped down the shades she rarely remembered to wear. “Whose?” “Anybody’s. I mean anybody with one. Does the penis ever just think: For God’s sake, pal, give it a rest? Or is it all: Woo-hoo! Here we go again!”

I really think most ginnies would say: Hey! Don’t even think about putting anything in there for a while.” “Ginnies?” “It’s a nice name for vagina. And I really think after a couple rounds, under most circumstances, your average ginnie would say, okay, that’ll hold me for a while. But does the penis just keep searching out the next orifice? I wonder since I don’t have one.”

I think even the most stalwart and energetic penis would, at some point, say enough’s enough for today or tonight, and since, hey, I’m all relaxed now, I’m taking a little vacation. Or just a nap.” “See now I’ve got this image of some cock sitting at a swim-up bar at a resort, wearing sunshades and drinking one of those stupid drinks

“Aw, that’s cute.” “It’s not cute. It’s mildly scary. Or disgusting. I’m not sure which. Both.” Eve blew out a tired breath. “I think both.” “It should have a little straw hat, too. Anyway, I don’t think it’s about sex with Dubrosky’s penis.” “Peabody, I can’t stress how much I don’t want to think about his penis.” “It’s addiction,” Peabody continued, unfazed. “I bet Mira’d agree,” she added, referring to the departmental profiler and shrink. “He equates his worth with his penis, and also uses it as a weapon.” “Okay, now I see it wearing a gold chain and toting a blaster. Stop now.”

“Try to look like Peabody.” “Sorry?” “Serious, official, yet approachable.” “You forgot adorable.” “Peabody is not adorable.” “She is from my perspective. Besides, I was talking about me.” She barely smothered the laugh before the door opened.

“Why does a fish have a sword?” “Is this a riddle?” “No, it’s a question. Do they do the en guard, touché thing or just go around stabbing unarmed fish because they can?” “Maybe they do battle with the hammerheads.” “Sword’s got a longer reach than a hammer, but a hammer could break a sword. It might be interesting, but I think it’s stupid to bring a hammer to a swordfight, unless it’s all you’ve got.”

You took my boy.” Since they were all his boys—regardless of gender—it took Eve a minute. “McNab? I asked you first.” “I hadn’t had my coffee. You get these notions in the middle of the damn night it puts me at a disadvantage.” “It was after six this morning.” “Middle of the night when I didn’t crash out until two. Now I’m doing his work.” She shoved her hands in her pockets. “I asked first,” she muttered. “What is that?” “It’s bits and pieces we got off what’s left of the game disc—which isn’t a hell of a lot. We’ve got it running through the computer, but I thought I’d try it the old-fashioned way.” “Any luck?” He sent her a weary glance. “Do I look lucky?” “Take a break for a minute.” Her fingers hit something in her pocket. She pulled it out. “Look. I have a sucking candy. It’s yours.” He eyed it. Then shrugged and took it. “How long’s it been in there?” “It can’t have been long. Summerset’s always bitching about stuff I leave in my pockets. They’re my pockets. Plus it’s wrapped, isn’t it?” He unwrapped it, popped it in his mouth.

I thought I’d try it the old-fashioned way.” “Any luck?” He sent her a weary glance. “Do I look lucky?” “Take a break for a minute.” Her fingers hit something in her pocket. She pulled it out. “Look. I have a sucking candy. It’s yours.” He eyed it. Then shrugged and took it. “How long’s it been in there?” “It can’t have been long. Summerset’s always bitching about stuff I leave in my pockets. They’re my pockets. Plus it’s wrapped, isn’t it?” He unwrapped it, popped it in his mouth.

Eve studied the victim’s choice of house droid. “That outfit wasn’t designed for fighting.” “Slave-girl version, episode six. But she handles herself. Girl’s a rebel and holds her own. Helped kick the Empire’s ass.” “Jesus, Feeney. It’s a droid—a replication of a fictional character from a space opera.” “I’m just saying,” he muttered.

It hits day after tomorrow. The book does. So ...” She ran her fingers through her perfectly styled streaky blond hair—a sure sign of distress. “God, I’m so nervous. No, make that terrified.” “Why?” “Why? Why? What if it bombs?” “Why would it bomb?” “Well, Jesus, because it sucks?” “It doesn’t suck. You made me read it. I mean, you asked me to read it,” Eve amended, on the chance there was a friendship rule about “made me.” “For accuracy since the Icove case was mine. Which I did. It didn’t suck, and it was accurate.” “Great, it doesn’t suck.” Nadine tossed up her hands. “Fabulous. I wonder if I can get them to put that as a PR quote. ‘Lieutenant Eve Dallas says this book doesn’t suck.”’ “Do you need written permission?”

“Yo, LT.” He hauled himself up and over. “We’re on that pizza murder.” “Mugging off Greene.” Just because she didn’t hover didn’t mean her detectives’ caseloads were off her radar. “Yeah. Guy goes to pick up a veggie pie and gets coshed with a pipe wrench. Mugger took his wallet, and the pie.” “No point wasting a pie.” “You got that.

“Sometimes you get lucky with who you let in your life. Sometimes you don’t. I’m feeling lucky today.”

“Oh, nearly forgot. We got you a present.” “Why?” “Because.” She unzipped one of her pockets and pulled out a very small gun. “What is it?” “It’s a toy gun. A derringer—like cardsharps and saloon girls carry in western vids. It’s like a clutch piece.”

“And check it.” Peabody cocked it, and a sultry female voice purred out of the barrel. Put those hands where I can see them, cowboy. “It has all sorts of audio streams—male, female. I figured you’d want the female. Plus—” She aimed it at Eve, pulled the trigger even as Eve said: “Hey!” The little gun let out a brave little bang. Next one goes lower, and you won’t be poking a woman with that stick of yours for the rest of your miserable life. “Isn’t it cute? You could play saloon girl and Roarke could be high-stakes gambler, then ... and that’s entirely none of my nevermind.” Peabody offered a big smile. “Yes, it’s cute, no, it’s none of your nevermind.” Eve took the derringer, recocked it. You’d better hightail it before that tail’s sporting another hole. “It could use better dialogue, but it’s apt enough. Hightail it.”

“Peabody? Thanks.” Eve studied the gun, shook her head. Unable to resist, she shot her computer, her AutoChef, amused by the lame insults that followed. That was another thing about partners, she decided. They knew what would make you laugh, often before you did.

She pulled a derringer out of her pocket. Obligingly, he lifted his hands in surrender. “Don’t shoot. I’m unarmed.” “Bet you’re not.” He only smiled. “You can search me later. Clever little thing there. Where’d you get it?” “Souvenir from Peabody and McNab.” She cocked it. It’s small, but it’s mean. just like me. He laughed

beer. “Giving you less time to fuss and fret about having to go to a party when you’re deep into a case.” “I don’t fuss and fret.” “No, you bitch and complain, but it’s such a nice evening I used code.”

“I don’t fuss and fret.” “No, you bitch and complain, but it’s such a nice evening I used code.”

“I knew you for a cop the minute I laid eyes on you.

Not true, at first glance he saw woman not cop and was a little annoyed he hadnt made her for one right away.. At least i think thats what i remember from naked in death, havent read it in a while

Dreams are subconscious whacka-whacka.” “A little known psychological term.”

Eve glanced toward a large object draped in a colorful throw. “It’s Mongo,” Trueheart told her. “A parrot. The subject covered his cage so he wouldn’t get too excited.” Curious, Eve crossed over, lifted the throw. Inside, an enormous bird with wild feathers cocked his head and eyed her. “Hi! How you doing? Want to play? Let me out of here. Want to play?” “Jesus,” Eve muttered. “Ben-nee!” Mongo called. Eve dropped the throw. “Dammit,” Mongo said clearly and with what sounded like true bitterness.

Curious, Eve crossed over, lifted the throw. Inside, an enormous bird with wild feathers cocked his head and eyed her. “Hi! How you doing? Want to play? Let me out of here. Want to play?” “Jesus,” Eve muttered. “Ben-nee!” Mongo called. Eve dropped the throw. “Dammit,” Mongo said clearly and with what sounded like true bitterness.

“It’s your own fault,” she called out. “You make it too easy.” “Darling Eve, there’s enough hard in the world.”

“You’re not going to introduce me to a bunch of people I have to make conversation with—because that’s the problem with parties. You have to get dressed up then talk to a bunch of people you’ll probably never see again and you don’t care about their opinions or life stories anyway.”

He smiled, shrugged. “Why would I want to do it for game? Gaming’s how you get away from the real for a while.” “Yeah. You’re not as stupid as you look.” “Thanks.” He lifted his fizzy as she walked away, then clicked in. “Hey!”