“Why the hell aren’t they paying more attention to the media reports?”
“Work all night, sleep most of the day. But I get you. Word needs to spread.”
“I’m doing a departmental memo. Sergeants to brief patrol officers to inform street levels on the situation. Some will listen,” Eve said as she mastered into Chablis’s apartment. “Some won’t.”
A mirror image of Traci’s apartment space-wise. No cheerful clutter here, but a clean, ordered room with a pumpkin-colored sofa hugging a trio of flower-covered pillows. A chair covered in flowers hugging a pumpkin-colored pillow.
A series of candles ranged over a low table, and a floor lamp with tiny colored beads at the hem of the shade stood beside the chair.
Under a small wall screen she’d placed a small dresser and arranged framed photos on it. Family, Eve noted. Biological and found.
“She made it nice.” Peabody nodded at the vase of flowers on the table in the eating area. “Kept it nice.”
Eve opened the door to the bathroom and doubted Summerset could have kept it cleaner. She’d wedged a narrow floor-to-ceiling stand against a wall and lined it with skin care, hair care, makeup, and all the rest.
In the closet in the short hallway, clothes hung in careful order. Above them, head forms held wigs. Shoes ran up the side walls on shelves. Eve’s feet hurt just looking at them.
“Let’s get started.”
It didn’t take long. Eve found a tablet where the victim kept her calendar—family birthdays clearly marked—as well as her required health checks and screening appointments, The financial records on it proved as organized as the dresser drawers.
“She made a decent living,” Eve noted. “Built up some savings. She’d already booked an econ flight to Wichita for December twenty-third, return on Dec twenty-seventh.”
“I’ve got two hundred cash from this stand—she used it as another dresser. More conservative clothes and winter wear. Stuff I’d say she wore when she went home. Some jewelry, same deal, not like what she kept in the other dresser in the living area.”
“Separate lives. We’ll keep it that way for her if we can.” She checked the time. “Goddamn it, what time with the Earth’s stupid rotation is it in Kansas?”
“Unless they live on a farm, it’s probably too early yet.”
“Then let’s see if Harvo’s worked her magic.”
The lab hummed and buzzed. This time, Eve bypassed Berenski and made her way straight to Harvo.
The Queen of Hair and Fiber had gone with bibbed baggies today ina sunny yellow and high-top kicks as pink as Peabody’s boots. She stuck with the rainbow hair and added a number of studs to both ears, all connected with thin chains.
Eve imagined having those chains ripping through earlobes during a street fight, and nearly shuddered.
“You guys are quick.” Harvo took a long pull from a carry-around bottle filled with something green.
Eve suppressed another shudder.
“My beauties and I are, too.”
“You identified the fiber?”
Harvo fluffed her rainbow hair. “Was there any doubt?”
“Not even a smidge,” Peabody told her.
“Smidge. Good word. You brought me less than a smidge, but enough. You’ve got premium wool—hundred percent—Wilton Wool, dyed in #15-B, which is basically dark gray. Loomed this way, it’s used primarily in carpets and floor mats for ultra-luxury vehicles. The vehicle make is going to have its own fancy name for the color.”
“Can you give us the makes, the models?”
“You bet your fine, toned asses.” She swiveled, tickled some keys. “Sent. Just to add, you can also—with the ultras—option it if it’s not standard. FYI? Roarke uses this material in some of his ultra-luxury models.”
“I fail to be surprised.”
“It’s going to be plush, baby, lush and plush. Soft, dense. Nothing you’d want to spring for in a family ride with little critters munching cookies in the back.”
