"It's not going to replace uniforms," Eve said, then pointed to a chair. "You need to commit the data Feeney's going to give you to memory. Record it. You can replay it on the drive over. We can't afford any slipups. I want you in by end of day, and on match lists by tomorrow."
"Yes, sir." But Peabody fingered the material of the dress lovingly as she walked over to sit with Feeney.
"You're next," Trina said, running a quick, assessing hand through Eve's hair.
"I don't have time for a treatment." Eve backed up. "Besides, you just did me a few weeks ago."
"You don't get regular treatments, you ruin my work. She makes time before the party, or I'm not responsible for how she looks," Trina warned Roarke.
"She'll make time." And to placate her, he took her arm, steering her out as he praised her brilliance with Peabody.
CHAPTER NINE
Finding Nadine Furst lazily filing her nails at Eve's desk wasn't the welcome Eve was looking for when she arrived at Cop Central.
"Get your butt out of my chair."
Nadine merely smiled sweetly, tucked her nail file away in her enormous calf-colored bag, and uncrossed her smooth legs. "Hello, Dallas. So good to see you. Doing a lot of work out of your home office these days? I can't blame you." As she rose, Nadine skimmed her sharp cat's eyes over the cramped, dingy, dusty room. "This place is a dump."
Saying nothing, Eve marched directly to her computer, checked the last log-on time, then did the same with her 'link.
"I didn't touch anything." Nadine added just enough insult to her voice for Eve to be sure the reporter had considered it.
"I'm busy, Nadine. I don't have time for the media. Go chase an MT van or harass one of the droids in Booking."
"You might want to make time." Still smiling, Nadine moved to the only other chair in the office and daintily crossed her legs again. "Unless you want me to go on air with what I've got."
Eve jerked a shoulder -- and found that her muscles had tensed as she sat -- stretched out her own denim-covered legs, and crossed her battered boots at the ankles. "What you got, Nadine?"
"Singles seeking romance find violent death. Personally Yours: dating service or death list? Ace homicide lieutenant, Eve Dallas, investigating."
Nadine watched Eve's face as she spoke. She gave Eve full points -- her eyes didn't flicker -- but Nadine was gut sure she had her full attention.
"You want me to go on with a no comment from the investigating officer on that lead?"
"The investigation is proceeding. A task force has been formed. The NYPSD is pursuing all leads."
Nadine leaned forward, slipping a hand into her bag to turn on her recorder. "Then you confirm that the murders are connected."
"I'm not confirming anything with your recorder on."
Irritation flickered over Nadine's pretty, triangular face. "Give me a break here."
"You turn that recorder off, put it here on my desk in plain view, or I'll give you a break. I'll confiscate it and anything else you have in that suitcase you're hauling around. Recording devises aren't permitted in official areas of Cop Central without authorization."
"Christ, you're strict." Annoyed, Nadine took out her mini, plunked it on the desk, then set her bag aside. "Off the record?"
"Off the record." Because Nadine had said the words, Eve nodded. Nadine could be irritating, tenacious, and a general pain in the ass, but she had integrity. There was no need to search the bag for another recorder.
"The homicides under my investigation were committed by the same person. Personally Yours appears to be the source of the victims. You can go on air with that."
"The dating service." All traces of annoyance faded as Nadine smiled. Eve's subtle hint had nudged her into research on every dating service in the city. She would be able to plug in the correct data and flesh out her report with the flick of a couple of buttons.
"That's right."
"What can you give me on it?"
"Most of my notes are on my office unit." But Nadine pulled out her PPC and called up data. "You have all the standard already: owners, length of time in business, requir