“How do you think Harvo gets her hair to stand up like that? It’s really jazzed. But that’s not what you meant.”
“Not even remotely.”
“Someone could’ve given Sommers the droid. We’ll need to check with the friends she had dinner with after the play. It’s also possible somebody lost the thing in the park before Sommers came along, and she saw it, picked it up. Not so easy to check that out. If we crap out with the friends, we start checking the retail outlets for purchases, and try to match any with the lists EDD is already running on the chance the kitty cat was his.”
“Sounds like a plan. Start running with that,” Eve said as they started back to Central. “I need to check with Feeney on EDD’s progress, then get to Mira’s for the you’re-beginning-to-feel-sleepy hour.”
“You think he’ll hit again tonight?”
“I think if we don’t lock some names in, if Celina doesn’t have a breakthrough, and women don’t stay the hell out of the parks in the middle of the damn night, Morris is going to be hosting another guest real soon.”
On her way up to Feeney, she snagged a drone from Illegals and had him pump her out a tube of Pepsi from vending. She thought her new method was working out well. The machines didn’t balk, and she wasn’t tempted to beat them into rubble.
A good deal all around.
She spotted McNab doing the standard EDD pace, dance, chatter when she swung in. He saw her and pranced in her direction. “Hold program,” he said, and tipped down his headset. “Hey, Lieutenant. Where’s your curvaceous partner?”
“If you refer to Detective Peabody, she’s working. Most of us do.”
“Just wondering if you’re figuring to split end of duty. We’re hoping to finish up with pack-it-up mode tonight and start the haul-it-over mode tomorrow.”
He looked so damn happy, she couldn’t work up any sarcasm. Any minute, she suspected the words would float visibly out of his mouth in the shape of little red hearts.
Was it something in the air? Peabody and McNab, Charles and Louise, Mavis and Leonardo. It was like a smooch epidemic.
Come to think of it, she and Roarke hadn’t had a single spat, skirmish, or spew in . . . well, days. “Can’t say when we’ll clock out. She’s tugging a couple lines right now, and after I talk to Feeney, we’ll have more, so . . . What?”
He’d winced. Just a quick flicker, but she’d caught it.
“Nothing. No thing. Man, I gotta get back to this or my ass’ll be in the flames. Continue program.”
He pranced off, double-time.
“Shit.” Eve muttered to herself, and made a beeline for Feeney’s office.
Feeney had a headset, and was also running two comps simultaneously, biting out orders, tapping screens or keys in a method she supposed she’d have admired if she understood it. She thought he looked a little like one of those orchestra conductors, in charge, focused, and slightly mad.
Today’s shirt was the color of egg substitute, but to Eve’s relief was showing some wrinkles and a little coffee stain bloomed between the third and fourth button.
When she stepped into his line of sight, she caught the same flickering wince she’d seen on McNab’s face. She said, “Goddamn it.”
“Pause all programs.” He pulled off the headset. “Doing another run, all data, but what I’m going to tell you isn’t going to make you happy.”
“How can there not be matches?” She opened the soft-drink tube, violently.
“We got a few—from residential to craft shop, from residential to gyms. But we get nothing on the shoe. None of the purchases of your shoe were made by names on the other lists.”
She dropped into a chair, drummed her fingers on the arm. “What about the other matches?”
“Got a couple residents—male, within age parameters, who made purchases at one of the craft shops within the last twelve months. Can’t put the red cord in their hands, but they’ve patronized the establishments. Got you a few more who use or have used the gyms. But we don’t get any dupes—no name or names that pop in both places, and none on record as purchasing the shoe.”
“Well, he did it all. Ribbon, shoe, gym. I know it.”
“Doesn’t mean he paid for the murder weapon or the shoes come to that. Guy who rapes and strangles and cuts out eyes isn’t going to blush over some shoplifting.”
“Yeah, I’ve considered that. Could be on the murder weapon. Tougher sell on the shoes. Not a snap to slip a pair of shoes the size of airboards out of a store. Hell, he could’ve lifted them off a delivery van. He might drive a damn delivery van. Had to have transpo to take out Kates and Merriweather. Could’ve gotten the ribbon the same way.”
“We can start looking at the delivery services and drivers.”