“Yeah. She took a delayed vacation – solo this time. Just a few days. She’s already back – mostly, I think, because she wants to move as soon as she can.”
And, Eve imagined, because the top on-screen crime-beat reporter couldn’t stay away from the action for long.
She knew the feeling.
She buzzed at Diaz’s door, and got a tinny c
omputerized voice.
Mr. Diaz has engaged the Do Not Disturb option. There was a jumble of noise, a sort of wheeze – as if the comp had asthma. Please leave your name.
“Cheap tech,” McNab commented. “Bottom of the barrel.”
Cheap tech or not, it currently stood in her way. Eve took out her badge. “Scan this,” she ordered. “This is official police business. Inform Diaz now.”
The scanning function is currently inactivated. Please leave your name.
Eve pressed the buzzer, held it down.
The Do Not Disturb – through the speaker came the equivalent of a computer death rattle – Name leave unable to process.
Ruthlessly, Eve ignored the dying gasps, kept her finger on the buzzer.
It took more than a few of McNab’s mo’s, but the next sound was human.
“What the fuck!”
“NYPSD. Open the door, Mr. Diaz.”
“Well, Jesus, it’s barely morning.”
Things rattled and thunked, and the door cracked open.
Yeah, he was a looker, Eve thought, even half asleep and obviously strung-out. Unearthly green eyes, thick black lashes, chiseled cheeks covered with scruff and a tumble of dark hair streaked with red gave him the kind of polished sexy used on billboards.
“You can let us in, Mr. Diaz, or we’ll arrange to have this conversation at Central.”
“Central what?”
Apparently the gods had used up their quota on his face, and hadn’t had much left over for brains.
“We’re cops, so that would be Cop Central.”
“What the fuck!”
“The fuck will be explained in the course of the conversation.”
“Well, Jesus,” he said again, and opened the door.
He hadn’t bothered with clothes – apparently the quota had included the body that matched the face on the scale.
Beside her Peabody gulped audibly.
“I was sleeping,” he said, and gave a king of the jungle stretch. “What’s the prob?”
Eve bent down, picked up a pair of fake leather pants. “Are these yours?”
“Yeah, so?”