She left the bedroom, crossed the length of the loft to Cill’s holoroom. To satisfy herself, she tried the log. Was denied.
She went in search of McNab. “I want the data from the holo-log as soon as you can get it. I want to know when she last used it, and what she used it for.”
“No problem. This place.” He let out a low whistle. “These people know how to live.”
“Yeah. Until they don’t. Peabody,” she called out. “With me.”
She opted to walk, and though Benny’s building was only a half a block away, chose to cover the three blocks to Var’s.
“Who’s on this one?”
“I put Carmichael, Foster, Callendar on this one. It’s supposed to storm tonight. Do you think it’s going to storm?”
“How do I know? Do I look like a forecaster?”
“I’ve got these great shoes to wear to Nadine’s party, but if it rains and we get stuck getting a cab or have to walk to the subway, they’ll get screwed.” Peabody searched the sky for answers. “If it storms I need to wear these pretty mag boots, but they’re not new. Plus the shoes are so totally uptown.”
“Peabody? Your footwear is of absolutely no interest to me, and at the moment the source of mild annoyance.”
“Since it’s only mild, let me continue. I sprang for a new outfit, too. It seemed like a good excuse for one. Nadine’s book, fancy deal. And the Icove case was ours. I’m in the book and all that. I want to look complete. What are you wearing?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care.”
“You have to.” To bring the point home, Peabody stabbed Eve’s arm with her finger. “You’re like the star of the book.”
“I am not the star of the book.” The idea was horrifying. “The case is the star of the book.”
“Who was in charge of the case?”
“I’m going to show you my current footwear, Peabody, up close when my boot connects w
ith your nose.”
“It’s usually my ass, so that’s a nice change.” She stopped, tipped down her shaded glasses to study Var’s building. “Post-Urban. One of those temps that became permanent. It’s in good shape, though. Good security again. He’s on the top two floors, roof access. I bet it’s a nice view from up on the roof.”
Inside, they rode up to ten.
“I bet you guys are taking a limo tonight,” Peabody said with some envy.
“I don’t know. I don’t care.”
“Easy not to care when you have a limo just by snapping your fingers.”
Eve sighed. She supposed it was. “Look, if I get you and McNab a limo will you stop whining, and say nothing more about your damn shoes or anything else about the damn party?”
Peabody let out a very uncoplike squeal and grabbed Eve in a hug before Eve could evade it. “Yes! Yes! Wow. Thanks, Dallas. Serious thanks. I can wear my new . . . I can stop having any concerns about the weather.”
Eve shoved her back, struggled to realign her dignity as they stepped out.
Var didn’t command the entire floor, but took the west side of it.
He went for more muted tones, she concluded. More masculine, and a style she found more restful than that of his other two partners. In furniture, he’d gone sleek leaning toward avant-garde, curved shapes, sharp angles.
Order, she mused, a certain style and clean to the point of shining. Unlike Cill he avoided clutter, but he shared her predilection for mega-e in comps, systems, screens, toys. A display held a collection of weapons—props, she noted, toys again. No reals.
She studied the contents of his fridge—all liquids. Wines, beers, soft and power drinks. He relied on the AutoChef for food and had that well-stocked. Like Bart’s, she mused, heavy on the pizza, burgers, tacos, sweets. Steaks, she noted, potato sides, big on fried.
Guy food.