Witness in Death (In Death 10)
“It was a hard thing to do. I don’t think I’d’ve had the guts for it.”
“It has nothing to do with guts.”
“Yeah, it does.” Peabody stopped, waited for Eve to turn to face her. “If you didn’t have feelings, it wouldn’t have been hard. But you do. Guts can be the same thing as mean without compassion. It was hard, but you did it anyway. A better cop would have realized that quicker.”
“I didn’t give you much of a chance since I was busy jumping down your throat. You worked it out, came around to it on your own. I must be doing something right with you. So, are we square now?”
“Yeah, all four corners.”
“Good, let’s get inside. I’m freezing my ass off.”
*** CHAPTER TWENTY ***
They went by to see Trueheart first. At Peabody’s insistence, they stopped off in the shopping mall for a get-well gift.
“It’ll take five minutes.”
“We’ve chipped in on the flowers already.” The forest of goods, the wide and winding trails that led to them, and the chirpy voices announcing the sales and specials caused Eve’s already abused stomach to execute a slow, anxious roll.
She’d rather have gone hand-to-hand with a three-hundred-pound violent tendency than be swallowed up in a consumer sea.
“That’s from everyone,” Peabody explained patiently. “This’ll be from us.”
Despite herself, Eve stopped at a display of dull green surgical scrubs brightly emblazoned with the hospital’s logo. For ten bucks extra, you could have one splattered with what appeared to be arterial blood.
“It’s a sick world. Just sick.”
“We’re not going for the souvenirs.” Though she thought the oversized anal probes were kind of a hoot. “When a guy’s in the hospital, he wants toys.”
“When a guy gets a splinter in his toe, he wants toys,” Eve complained but followed Peabody into a game shop and resigned herself to having her senses battered by the beeps, crashes, roars, and blasts.
Here, according to the flashing signs, you could choose from over ten thousand selections for your entertainment, leisure, or educational desires. From sports to quantum physics programs and everything in between, you had only to key in the topic of your interest and the animated map, or one of the fully trained and friendly game partners, would direct you to the correct area.
The store menu pumped out screaming yellow light. Eve felt her eyes cross.
The clear tubes of the sample booths were all loaded with people trying out demos. Others trolled the store proper, their faces bright with avarice or blank from sensory overload.
“Don’t these people have jobs?” Eve wondered.
“We hit lunch hour.”
“Well, lucky us.”
Peabody made a beeline for the combat section. “Hand-to-hand,” she decided. “It’ll make him feel in control. Wow, look! It’s the new Super Street Fighter. It’s supposed to be majorly mag.” She flipped the anti-theft box over, winced a little at the price, then noted the manufacturer.
“Roarke Industries. We oughta get a discount or something. Oh well, it’s not so bad when you split it.” She headed toward the auto-express checkout, glanced back at Eve. “I guess Roarke’s got a whole factory full of these, huh?”
“Probably.” Eve pulled out her credit card, swiped it through the scanner, pressed her thumb to the identi-plate.
Thank you for your purchase, Eve Dallas. One moment, please, while your credit is verified.
“I’ll give you my half on payday, okay?”
“Yeah, whatever. Why do these things take so long?”
Thank you for waiting, Eve Dallas. The cost of your selection, Super Street Fighter, PPC version, comes to one hundred and sixteen dollars and fifty-eight cents, including all applicable taxes. Due to Authorization One, your account will not be debited for this selection. Please enjoy your day.
“What the hell are you talking about? What’s Authorization One?”