[Dalyia]

“No. It's just as likely one of them will end up getting squished by a cab while I'm chasing them. Pricks.” She slammed out, jogged to the entrance to check the seal. “Tinkered with it, didn't get through far enough to set off the alarm. Slap on a fresh one anyway, Peabody. Asshole kids. What did they plan to do, break in and have a party in the death house? Why aren't they in school, or better yet in juvie?”
“Saturday.”
“What day?”
“Today's Saturday, Dallas. No school on the weekends.”
“There ought to be,” she said darkly. “There ought to be school twenty-four/seven for little disrespectful creeps like that. Give them a day out, all they do is cause trouble.”
“You'd have felt better if you'd gone after and squished them.”
“Yeah.” She let out a breath. “Next time.” She forced herself to set it aside. “Recanvass was zip here, too. But we know Isenberry used the paralegal to get inside, get close to the family. We know the killers walked away, headed down the block, not into a neighboring building. Still, we'll try the same investment angle here, too. They might have bought one, rented one, used it for stakeout previously.”
Her last stop was the hospital parking lot. “Not just a quick slice here. Multiple stab wounds, defensive wounds. She put up a fight, or tried to. Played with her some. Jab here, jab there. I think this was girl on girl. They let Isenberry do this one. Her file says she likes to mix it up. Clinton, he likes a silent kill--manual strangulation a specialty. Kirkendall let his brother take point there. But the other kills were his. Cold and clean. But everybody got bloody. You trust your comrades more when they get bloody along with you.”
“Easiest one to take here.” Peabody frowned at the lot, the health center. “You either hack in, get her schedule, or you hang around-- who notices?--get a feel. Both, probably. You do it end of shift, late. And yeah, if it's another woman walking your way, you don't get the alarm bells. Little friendly nod, or Isenberry stops her, asks for directions. How do I get to the surgery wing? Vic turns, knife comes out. Sticks here, vie tries to block or run, gives her another jab. Works her back, away from the building. Some of the wounds were shallow, just nasty little sticks. Finishes her off. Rendezvous, and you're gone.”
Yeah, Eve thought, that was the way. “They'd have watched. Kirkendall and Clinton. Close enough for visual, or Isenberry wore a recorder. You're not part of the kill unless you see the kill. We find their base, we're going to find vids of every murder. They'd study them like Arena Ball players study the vid of a game. Looking for flaws, for moves, ways to improve.”
“Sick. Dallas, it's going on fifteen hundred.”
“And?”
“We're due to get Mavis at fifteen hundred.”
“Right. I got this buzz.” She rocked on her heels, studying the spot where Brenegan's body had been found years before. “I know we're close. We push the right buttons, we pull them in, and they're gone. They're smart, they're crafty, but they're vulnerable because they won't walk away until they're done. They'd rather fail than walk away without the mission complete.”
“It's hard to stop, change tracks, and deal with the other areas.”
“Yeah, it's a pisser all right. Let's go get Mavis.”
Eve had been to some of Mavis's concerts. She'd been backstage and watched the adoring fans lucky enough to gain entrance. But she'd never seen a nine-year-old girl rendered speechless by the mere sight of her friend.
Not that the sight couldn't render anyone incapable of speech. Mavis wore her hair in hundreds of ringlets, bright gold and shimmery green, that spilled around her face like some sort of electric mop. Her eyes were gold today as well, tipped with green lashes. She wore a deep purple calf-length coat, which she peeled off upon entering the house to reveal a crotch-length dress in swirls of purple and gold. Her green tights were accented with shiny knee and ankle bracelets and a pair of gold shoes with transparent heels filled with those same colorful swirls.
Her pregnancy had progressed far enough that her belly popped out of the swirls in a small, neat lump.
Her bracelets--knee, ankle, wrist--rang like bells as she danced across the floor toward a slack-jawed Nixie.
“Hi! I'm Mavis.”
Nixie only nodded, her head like a puppet's on a string.
“Dallas says you like my music.”
At the next nod, Mavis grinned. “I thought maybe you'd like this.” Apparently there was a pocket somewhere in the dizzying swirls as Mavis drew out a disc. “It's my new vid, for 'Inside Out Over You.' It's not hitting until next month.”
“I can have it?”
“Sure. You want to watch it? Okay if we go plug it in, Dallas?”
“Go ahead.”
“This is the ult,” Nixie exclaimed. “The serious ult. Linnie and I ...” She trailed off, stared hard at the disc. “Linnie's my best friend, and we watch your vids all the time. But she's . . .”
“I know.” Mavis's voice softened. “I'm really sorry. Dallas is my best friend. I'd feel so bad if anything happened to her. It would hurt for a long time. I guess I'd have to think about the fun we had together whenever I could, so it didn't hurt so much.”
She nodded. “You're having a baby. Can I touch it?”
“You bet. Sometimes it bumps around in there, and it feels really frosty.” Mavis laid her hand over Nixie's. “Gotta cook a while longer. In the new vid I've got this totally mag belly painting going on. Why don't you go plug the disc in. I'll come watch it with you.”
“Okay, thanks.” Nixie looked up at Eve. “You said you'd bring her, and you did. Thanks.”
When Nixie raced off to the parlor, Eve stepped up, laid a hand on Mavis's shoulder. “I appreciate this.”
“Poor kid. Man, makes you misty.” She laid a hand on her belly, blinked her emerald lashes. “Look, if I can give her a couple hours of fun, that's what it's all about. Hey! Bump!” She grabbed Eve's hand, slapped it to the side of her belly.
“Jesus, don't! Whoa!” She jerked when something kicked against her palm.
“Is that uptown or what?”
“Or what.”
But curiosity had her eyeing the ball of Mavis's belly as the little kicks continued. It was kind of. . . she wasn't sure. A happy little beat, and not nearly as creepy as she'd expected. “What the hell's it doing in there, dancing?”
“It's swimming and stretching and rolling. I'm so knocked up now its nostrils are opening, and he's got these little air sacs--”
Eve whipped her hand clear, tucked it safely behind her back as Mavis laughed. And her own hands gently caressed her belly as she looked toward the stairs. “Hi, Dr. Mira.”
“Mavis. I'd say you're glowing, but I've never known you otherwise. I will say you look wonderfully healthy.”
“Feeling TIT these days. Totally In Tune.”
“I didn't know you were already here,” Eve said.
“A few minutes before you. I've been upstairs speaking to Roarke. He'll be right down. Ms. Barrister, Mr. DeBlass, and their son have just been cleared through the gate.”
“I'll go keep Nixie entertained.” Mavis gave Eve a bolstering pat on the arm and swirled her way into the parlor. “Hit it, Nix!” she called out, and there was a blast of what could be called, in some cultures, music.
“I guess that's showtime,” Eve declared, and walked to the front door.