Promises in Death

by J. D. Robb

  “I know your mind’s not on what’s going on downstairs.”

  “It’s okay.” Eve tugged at the skirt of the dress. “I’ll multitask.”

  A short time later, she wasn’t sure she had a mind. The pool house had been transformed into a female fantasy of gold, white, and silver canopies, lounge chairs, towering white candles. White tables held frothy pink drinks in crystal flutes, and silver trays of colorful food. Yet another held a tower of gifts with trailing ribbons.

  To the far side of the deep blue water of the pool was the salon. Reclining chairs, massage tables, manicure and pedicure stations—and the tables with all those tools and implements that always gave Eve a slightly queasy stomach.

  “Bellinis!” Mavis pushed one into Eve’s hand. “Mine are with the nonalchy bubbles since I’m nursing. But they’re still delish. We’re going to draw lots for services in a few minutes. After some lube.”

  “Don’t put mine in.”

  Mavis grinned. “Too late,” she said and danced off.

  Eve thought: What the hell. And knocked back half the Bellini. It was pretty delish.

  “What do you think?” Peabody asked, and gestured to encompass the whole space.

  “I think it looks like a really classy bordello without any johns. In a good way.”

  “That was pretty much the idea. Listen, while it’s all the chatter, we can slip out. You can fill me in on anything new.”

  Eve looked at Peabody, looked at the space, looked over to where Louise laughed with a group of women. “It’s a party. The rest can wait. But since you asked, and meant it, the hurt downgrades from pig squeal to agonized moan.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Woot!”

  As Mavis announced the first names for services, women shrieked. And Eve polished off the first Bellini.

  Louise put another in her hand, tapped her own glass to it. “When I was a girl,” she began, “I dreamed about getting married, and all that went around it. For a long time, after I grew up, I put those dreams aside. For the work, and because no one measured up to what I had dreamed as a girl. Now, with Charles and what we have, with all this, and what I have right this minute, it’s so much more than I ever dreamed.”

  “You look stupid with happy, Louise.”

  “I am. I am stupid with happy. I know this is a bad time for you—and celebrating when Morris is going through so much—”

  “We’re not thinking about that now. So, how long before somebody gets drunk and falls in the pool?”

  “Oh, no more than an hour.”

  It was an hour, almost to the minute, but nobody fell in. Mavis stripped off her boots, pulled her dress over her head and dived in, bare-ass naked. The gesture met with enthusiasm, so much so that dresses flew, shoes soared. Women, in a variety of sizes and shapes, joined her.

  “My eyes,” Eve moaned. “There aren’t enough Bellinis in the world to save my eyes.”

  They swam naked, and when someone ordered music, they danced. They chattered like magpies and drank like fish. They reclined in the salon with their faces and bodies coated with strangely colored goo. They gathered in corners for intense discussions.

  “It hits every note.”

  Eve glanced over at Nadine. “Does it?”

  “Look at Peabody shaking it with Louise. And Mira over there chatting with Reo and—whoever that is, some friend of Louise’s from the hospital. They’re chatting like sisters while they get facials. I get caught up with work. You know how it is. And I forget to just hang with women. Just be with others of my species without any agenda. Then there’s something like this, so completely female, and I like it. A lot. It hits the notes.”

  “I didn’t see you jump naked in the pool.”

  “I haven’t had enough to drink yet. But the night’s young.” Nadine gave her slow, feline smile. “Wanna dance, cutie?”

  Eve laughed. “No, but thanks. Two things, then we’ll get another drink. I might have a break on the Coltraine case, and I’ll give you a heads up when it cracks open. Don’t ask, not here. Second, I read the book. Your Icove book. You got it. I already knew the ending, but you pulled it off so I wanted to see how you played it out.”

  “It’s been killing me not to ask you.” Nadine closed her eyes, drank again. “Thanks. Serious and sincere thanks, Dallas.”

  “I didn’t write it.” Eve looked at her glass. “I’m empty.”

  “Let’s go fix that.”

  It got stranger. The I-have-to-watch-my-figure food disappeared to be replaced by the gooey. Little frosted cakes, cookies, tarts gleaming with sugar, pastries oozing cream. Because she hoped to hear from Callendar, Eve switched to coffee. Nadine, having enough to drink, executed an impressive naked jackknife from the diving board. Several pairs of breasts bobbed in the swirling water of the corner jets. Eve worked hard to block out the fact that a pair of them belonged to Mira.

  It just wasn’t right.

  “We’re going to begin the open-the-gifts round,” Peabody told her.

  “Good, that should—What are you wearing?”

  “My party pajamas.” Peabody looked down at her bright yellow sleep tank and pants. The pants were covered with colorful drawings of shoes. “Cute.”

  “Why would anyone wear shoes on their pants? Shoes go on your feet.”

  “I like shoes. I love my pjs.” Smiling sloppily, Peabody hugged herself and swayed. “They’re fun.”

  “Peabody, you’re completed wasted.”

  “I know. I had a gazillion belamies, belly buttons, biminis, whatever. And I ate much, too. So if I throw up, none of it counts! Didja know McNab called me from Vegas? He won a hundreds dollar.”

  Fuck it, Eve thought. A party was a party. “A hundreds dollar?”

  “Uh-huh. He said if he wins a hundreds more, he’s going to buy me a present. Oops! Presents! Time to open presents!”

  Eve stayed out of the way as it seemed opening presents involved some ritual, and a change of venue from the pool house to the lounge beyond it. Following Peabody’s lead, many of the guests also required a wardrobe change.

  Mavis came in wearing a polka-dot tank and striped pants, and carrying the baby, who wore matching sleepwear.

  Women flocked to them like cooing doves.

  “She’s hungry,” Mavis explained. “Plus she didn’t want to miss the whole party.” So saying, Mavis sat, plopped out a breast. Bella latched on enthusiastically.

  Women sat or sprawled everywhere while Louise began the ritual of removing ribbons, bows, and paper. There were coos and ooohs, bawdy laughter at the gag gifts of sex toys. And the conversation around the openings turned to weddings, men, and sex.

  Men, Eve thought, didn’t have a clue what women said about them when they weren’t around. Comparison studies, polls—discussions of length, thickness, duration, positions, quirks, preferences.

  Mavis switched Bella to her other breast. “Leonardo can go all night. He’s a—”

  “Huggy bear,” Eve said, and made Mavis giggle.

  “Yeah, but that bear’s got stamina.”

  “What’s the record?” somebody asked her.

  “Six in one night. Of course that was before Bellaloca here,” she said through the round of applause. “We gotta squeeze in the hump and bump when and where we can these days. But the bear knows how to spring to attention.”

  “We hit five one night.” Peabody waved her fresh glass. “And four is standard for special occasions. But mostly it’s one—a nice long one, with maybe a short recap. McNab’s more a puppy. Likes to play and play, then he’s gotta curl up and sleep.”

  “I dated a guy once who was all buildup and no payoff. Huge cock,” Nadine added, using her hands to demonstrate—to the hilarity of women. “And he’d dock, and deflate. Like a turtle pulling back in the shell. He’s The Turtle.”

  “I banged this guy once.” Trina chomped down on an éclair, swallowed the pale gold pastry that nearly matched the color of her hair. “N
ot bad. We got together a couple times, then he says maybe I want to take it up a few notches. I figure toys, iced. But he wants a threesome. Gotta be open, right?” She chased the pastry with a pink Bellini. “But it turns out the third party was his fricking sister. He’s The Snake,” she said to the chorus of disgust.

  “Dennis can still manage two.”

  “I can’t hear this.” Eve clamped her hands over her ears. “My head will explode.”

  “What? I have grandchildren so I don’t have sex?” Mira asked.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. That’s the point.”

  Mira poked a finger at Eve’s arm. “You have such a charming streak of prude. As I was saying, Dennis, given the right stimulation, can still go for two. When you’ve been married as long as we have, there are often stretches where warmth, comfort, the life rhythm stand in for sex. I wish that for you, Louise. The warmth and the comfort of a long life together, with the two rounds to surprise you both. Dennis is The Owl. Wise and quiet.”

  “What’s Charles?” Nadine demanded. “The suave licensed companion turned sexual therapist. The sex has to be amazing.”

  “Isn’t it just?” Louise gave a slow, satisfied smile that put a glow in her gray eyes. “He’s The Leopard. Elegant, graceful, strong—and believe me, he can travel across the mesa. And back again.”

  “Leopards, puppies, owls—even snakes are sexy,” Nadine complained. “I get a limp turtle. Your turn,” she said to Eve, then wagged a finger when Eve shook her head. “Then I’ll project. Panther. Sleek, mysterious, coiled, with an elegance and purpose of movement.”

  “Okay.”

  “Not fair! Okay, what’s the record? How many times?”

  “If you can count them, he didn’t drop you out.”

  Nadine groaned, shuddered, grinned. “Bitch.”

  Amid the laughter, Louise opened the next gift. Eve sipped her coffee. “Wolf,” she murmured, without thinking.

  “Yes.” Beside her, Mira patted her hand. “They mate for life.”

  When the last present was sighed over, Trina got to her feet. “Okay, girls, back to your stations. Next round of treatments.” She turned, bared her teeth at Eve. “I pulled you.”

  “No. I’m not—”

  “Yeah, you are. Everybody plays. Somebody get this woman a drink. The hair. It’s mine.”

  She could handle a haircut. Probably. Particularly since there was no escape. “I don’t want a body treatment,” Eve began. “I don’t want a face treatment. I don’t want—”

  “Yeah, yeah, blah, blah. Sit.” Someone passed Trina a Bellini, which she pushed into Eve’s hand. “I saved you for last, first round anyway. We’re here for the duration if anybody wants to go again. It’s nice what you’re doing here.”

  Eve narrowed her eyes suspiciously as Trina arranged her torture tools. “What am I doing here?”

  “Having everybody here like this. Louise is okay. Real okay. Got a solid base. Me, I don’t have a lot of no-fucking-ways, but I couldn’t’ve fallen for an LC and stuck. Not the big fall, you know? But she did, because he was the guy. And now she’s got the whole piñata and all the candy inside. It’s nice to have everybody here to get a bang out of it.”

  Just as Eve relaxed, as she considered there might be some skinny patch of common ground here, Trina turned, and her eyes went to slits. “Now what the fuck have you done to my hair? Hacked at it didn’t you? Just couldn’t let it alone or call me in to deal?”

  “I didn’t—I only. It’s my hair.”

  “Not once I put the scissors to it, sister. You’re lucky I’m a genius, and a humanitarian. I’ll fix it, and I won’t shave it bald down the center to make my point.”

  Trina grabbed a bottle and began to spray a mist on Eve’s hair while she worked it with her fingers. “Plus you need a facial and an eye boost. You got some fatigue.”

  “It’s not fatigue, it’s alcohol. I’ve been drinking.”

  “I say you got fatigue, you got fatigue. I know about Morris’s lady. Sick about it because that’s one prime man—on all counts. You’re going to get the bastard, but you’re not going to do it with hacked-up hair and tired skin. I got standards.”

  “You want the hair? Take the hair, but leave the rest of me alone. I’ve got—”

  Her ’link beeped. Eve struggled to get her hand under the miles of cape, into the pocket of her dress. Trina just nipped in, pulled it out. “She’s busy,” she snapped even as Eve cursed her.

  “Unrecognized voice print. Transmission for Dallas, Lieutenant Eve.”

  “Give me that, goddamn it.” Eve grabbed, shoved. “Dallas.”

  “Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Report to 509 Pearl Street. Officers on-scene. Body on second floor visually identified as Sandy, Rod, subject of your APB.”

  “Is the scene secured?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Before Eve finished the statement, Trina had the cape whipped away and the chair back in an upright position. “Should I find Peabody?”

  “No, she can stay here. I can handle it. If anyone asks, just say I went to bed.”

  “You got it.”

  Eve slipped out of the room, started to make a dash.

  “Hey, hey!” Spotting her, Peabody set off in staggering pursuit.

  “You can’t run away. We’re going to start the vids. You—you’ve got something,” she said when she managed to focus.

  “I’ve got it. Go on back. Go handle . . . whatever the hell it is down there.”

  “No, sir. I’m with you. I’ve got some Sober-Up with me. I can be level pretty quick. It’s about Coltraine, so I’m with you.”

  “All right, but make it quick. I’ve got to go change. And so, by all that’s holy, do you.”

  As Eve called for the elevator, Mira hurried over. “What’s wrong?”

  “DB ID’d as Sandy. I’ve got to go. She’s got to sober up if she wants in.”

  “I want in.”

  “Go change,” Mira ordered, and put an arm around Peabody’s waist. “I’ll take care of it. She’ll meet you upstairs.”

  “Ten minutes,” Eve snapped. She jumped on the elevator, thinking there was no way in hell her partner would be clean and sober in ten.

  And, she thought as she rode up, no matter how hard she’d pushed that day, she’d never had a chance of taking Rod Sandy alive.

  18

  EVE PEELED OFF THE DRESS, YANKED ON PANTS, shirt, her weapon. She hunted up a short leather jacket and shrugged into it as she jogged downstairs. She realized she’d underestimated Peabody when her partner stepped off the foyer elevator with Mira and Mavis.

  “I’m about halfway there,” Peabody told her.

  “You’re all the way there when we get to the scene, or you stay in the car. Ah, do whatever you think works downstairs,” she said to Mira.

  “Don’t worry. Everything’s under control here.”

  “We’re totally on top of it,” Mavis assured her. “I told Summerset the what, so he brought your car around.”

  “Good thinking. We’ll be back when we’re back. Peabody.”

  Peabody went a little pale when the fresh air slapped her, but got into the car with the minimum of groans.

  “If you even think about booting in here—”

  “No, I’m past that. Where’s the scene?”

  “Building down on Pearl.”

  “I’ll be leveled out by the time we . . . Where did you get this vehicle?”

  “It’s mine. We’ll be using it from now on.”

  “Yours, like yours?” Peabody studied the dash. “Very frosty gadgetry.”

  “Use the very frosty gadgetry to map the fastest route to 509 Pearl and to ID the kind of building it is.”

  Peabody made the requests. “Three-level, multi-tenant, currently vacant. Rehab pending permits. Do you want the route in-dash or on audio?”

  “In-dash. I hate when it talks to you. Inside a vacant building, second floor of. It sounds lik
e the killer didn’t want the body found so fast this time. That building’s outside the Eighteenth’s turf, but not far out. Coltraine’s squad would know the terrain.”

  “How about Callendar and Sisto? I need to catch up.”

  Eve filled in the blanks, speeding her way downtown.