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385 pages, ebook
First published September 4, 2018
"So, you know the Oscar deal's coming up."
"Oscar who?"
"What do you know about Jordan Banks?"
"Other than he's a wanker. I rarely do business with wankers."
"A ghrá ..."
"He's a complete git ..."
"We (sic) bollocksed that up altogether ..."
"Sometimes the fucking cop is a complete pain in the arse."
"Pry this bleeding bitch open a bit more."
"And there, you shagging, cross-eyed whoremonger, I've got it."
That was the woman he loved, no matter how much she could - and did - infuriate him ...
“Soup. Vegetable Beef.”
Eve took a sniff then a swallow before she started winding out of the underground lot. It smelled like pepper and tasted like spicy, liquified cardboard, heated to cautiously approach lukewarm. “Beef of what?”
“They didn’t say, and I thought it wiser not to ask.” Peabody took a gulp, coughed a little. “It’s bad, it’s bad. I should’ve gone for the mini berry pies.”
“They had mini berry pies and you went for liquid mystery meat?”
“And veg.” Peabody choked down another swallow. “I told myself to be an adult, to think of loose pants. Is it gamey? There’s a little bit of gamey aftertaste. Gak.”
“It could be rat. Liquefied, peppered rat.” Eve shoved her cup into Peabody’s hand.
“It’s a hospital! Hospitals don’t serve rat.”
As she wound, Eve swung toward a recycler, stopped. Pointed. “Dispose of the rat soup.”
“It’s not rat. I didn’t drink rat.” But Peabody fumbled the door open, juggling go-cups. She hotfooted it to the recycler, dumped the cups. She slid back into the car, downtrodden. “Can I get a diet fizzy from the AC?”
“What flavor washes away the taint of rat soup?”
“It wasn’t rat, but any.”
“Did you manage a midday meal, Lieutenant?”
“I had some rat soup.”
Eyebrows as dark as his mane of black silk lifted. “How adventurous of you.”
”Not only had the nefarious Candy Thief snatched her chocolate, he/she had taken the time and trouble to replace it with the actual item on the freaking menu.
She had to respect that.
When she caught the son of a bitching bastard—and she would, oh, she would—she’d hang the thief out her window by the heels. Naked.
But she’d do so with respect.”
“Nearly on time,” he said in that snooty voice, “and together.” His brows
arched up. “And with no visible injuries.”
“The day’s young.” Eve pulled off her coat, tossed it over the newel post as
the cat padded over to wind through her legs. “You’re not.”
“Has there been an alien invasion? Perhaps a zombie apocalypse?”
“We’ve got the zombie right here.” She stripped off her coat, tossed it over the newel post as he continued down. Then she dug into her file bag. “I’m supposed to show this to you.”
She unrolled the painting, held it up. “Mavis brought the kid by. It’s her work —the kid’s not Mavis’s.”
He smiled—and that was creepy. “Yes, I see. Very colorful.”
“It’s the house, and . . . the rest of us.” Eve tapped a blob. “She says this is you.” And waited a beat. “Somshit.”
”….We’ll kill two birds with one arrow and talk to the party people.”
“And that’s sort of check four.” Peabody climbed into the car. “It’s stone. You kill the two birds with one stone.”
“Have you ever tossed a rock at a bird?”
“No!” Appalled in her Free-Ager’s heart, Peabody strapped in. “That’s just mean.”
“And ineffective, I bet, since birds can fly. An arrow’s got to be quicker than heaving a rock that’s big enough to take out a couple of birds at a time.”
“I’m wearing Leonardo to the Oscars?”
“Why do people say that? You’re not draping a big Leonardo all over you.”
From: Dallas, Lieutenant Eve
To: Peabody, Detective, Delia
Re: Official Leave
This confirms the leave previously discussed and approved. You are granted official leave of seventy-two hours, commencing Friday at sixteen hundred hours. I will work with my expert consultant, civilian, during that period on current investigations, and any other official business that may ensue during said period.
That’s it.
Between this time and the commencement of official leave, be prepared to work your ass off. If I hear any shit about my decision and directive, I will kick whatever is left of your ass.