Born in Death (In Death 23)

She ran through the scene, and her take of it, for her partner.

“Maybe some DNA on the pieces of the lamp, some on the vic’s fists.” Peabody looked down at the body. “Guy was in good shape. Look

s like he gave his attacker some trouble.”

“Not enough.”

They left the crime scene in the hands of the sweepers and headed for the accounting firm.

“You know, seeing the kid back there reminded me. How’d the coaching class go last night?”

“It’s not to be discussed,” Eve said. “Ever.”

“Aw, come on.”

“Ever.”

To hide a smirk, Peabody glanced out the side window and looked longingly at a corner glide-cart. “Baby shower’s coming right up. You set?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Or she hoped she was.

“I made her this sweet baby blanket while I was in the weaving mode over the holidays. It’s all rainbow colors. I’m doing these cute little booties and a hat, too. What’d you get her?”

“I don’t know.”

“You haven’t gotten her shower gift yet? Cutting it close.”

“I got a few days.” Considering, Eve glanced over. “You could go buy something to cover it. I’ll pay you.”

“Uh-uh. It’s not right.” Peabody folded her arms. “She’s your oldest friend, your best pal, having her first baby. You have to buy it yourself.”

“Damn it. Damn it, damn it.”

“I’ll go with you, though. We can swing by this baby place she’s been haunting after we hit the offices. Grab some lunch, too, maybe.”

Eve imagined the process of shopping in a baby boutique, and had to fight off a shudder. “I’ll give you a hundred dollars to go on your own.”

“That’s hitting below the belt,” Peabody replied. “But I’m too strong to be bribed. You have to do the thing, Dallas. It’s Mavis.”

“Coaching classes, baby showers, now shopping. Is there no end to the price of friendship?”

Eve put it aside—buried it—and made her way to the main reception area of Sloan, Myers, and Kraus.

In keeping with their service of high-end clients, the area was plush, glass-walled, and full of green, leafy plants. The wide stone-gray counter served as a work area for three receptionists, all of whom wore headsets and worked busily on keyboards. A trio of waiting areas fanned out like sunbeams, boasting deep chairs, media screens, and a selection of entertainment discs.

Eve laid her badge on the counter in front of a three-piece-suited man with streaked blond hair worn in short, tight curls. “I want to see someone in charge.”

He gave her a cheerful smile. “That certainly wouldn’t be me. In charge of a specific department, or altogether in charge?”

“Let’s start small. I want Natalie Copperfield’s and Bick Byson’s supervisors.”

“Let’s see. Copperfield’s Senior Account Exec, Corporate, Foreign and International. That’s this floor. You’ll want Cara Greene. And ah, Byson, Byson. Byson, Bick,” he all but sang as he read his screen. “Vice President, Personal Finance, Domestic. That’s up a level, and it would be Myra Lovitz.”

“We’ll take Greene first.”

“She’s in a meeting.”

Eve tapped her badge. “Not anymore, she’s not.”