“If we could have your customer list, Ms. Chancy.” Peabody gave her a bright, toothy smile. “We’d very much appreciate your cooperation, and your support of the NYPSD.”
“Oh. Hmm. When you put it that way.” She cleared her throat. “But you’ll be discreet?”
Peabody kept the smile plastered on her face. “Absolutely.”
“I’ll just make you a copy.”
Back on the street Peabody’s smile turned smug, and there was a little bounce to her step as she walked. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Come on.” She jabbed Eve with her elbow. “Spread a little glory.”
Eve stopped at a glide-cart. Caffeine was going to be an essential part of the day. “Couple tubes of Pepsi,” she ordered.
“One straight, one Pepsi Fitness. Watching the weight,” she said to Eve.
Eve shrugged, dug out credits. She took the first hit and decided there was hope left in the world. “You did a good job. Maybe a longer dance than the one with me smashing Chancy’s face into her desk, but not as messy.”
“See, now that we’re partners, I can be the one with the voice of reason.”
“Uh-huh. What was up with that chair?”
“Quilt chair. They can be a real focal point—homey or amusing or striking. And it’s a clever way to recycle scraps from other projects. I didn’t like her choice of fabrics, but the workmanship was first class.”
“Gee, the things you learn,” Eve said. “That have absolutely no use. Pick up the pace, Peabody, it’s a quicker way to ditch the weight than drinking PFs.”
“But see, I’m drinking the PF and exercising. Which means I can have dessert at the dinner party tonight. So, what are you wearing?”
“What am I . . . oh shit.”
“I don’t think that’s appropriate attire for a casual dinner. We have to go,” she continued before Eve could speak. “Unless things heat up, we have to. A couple, three hours—after shift—socializing and recreating with friends isn’t going to hamper the investigation, Dallas.”
“Jeez.” She chugged Pepsi as she strode the half a block north toward the first fitness center. “It’s weird enough, this whole cozy gathering, but now I have to do it on no sleep and with bodies piling up. My life used to be simple.”
“Mmm.”
“It did. Because it didn’t have all these people in it.”
“If you need to shove somebody out, you know, to simplify? Could you give Roarke the push? See, McNab and I have this understan
ding. If Roarke’s clear, I get to take my shot at him. McNab gets one at you.”
When Eve choked on the last swallow from the tube, Peabody gave her a helpful thump on the back. “Joking. Just sort of joking.”
“You and McNab have a sick, sick relationship.”
“We do.”
Peabody beamed. “It makes us very happy.”
Jim’s Gym was a hole in the wall down a dingy flight of stairs and through a muscular iron door. Eve assumed if a prospective member couldn’t handle the door, he was laughed back up to the sidewalk where he could slink away holding his puny biceps.
It smelled male, but not in a flattering sense. It was the kind of odor that hit you dead center of the face, like a fist wrapped in a sweaty jock strap.
Paint was peeling from the walls that had been tuned up to an industrial gray around the time she’d been born. There were rusty splotches in the ceiling from water damage and a grimy beige floor so soaked with sweat and blood the fumes of both rose up like fetid fog.
She imagined the men who frequented the place breathed it in like perfume.