J. Robb - Fantasy in Death

“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 with 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.

“His place is neater than hers,” Peabody observed. “Seems more organized, and more stylish.”

“She has her own organizational style, but yes, tidier.”

She moved onto his office, where Callendar was already at work on the comps. She said, “Yo.”

“Nice setup.”

“Nice? Baby, it’s rocket. Like total command center. From the main comp, he can control all the systems, the screens, even the ones in other rooms. He can multitask, no problem, but he adds to those capabilities with the aux. Workstation’s equipped with built-in smart screen. Oh, he gets hungry? He can command the AutoChef here or in any of the rooms. Have one of the droids serve it up.”

“How many droids?”

“He’s got three, no human replicas, straight mechanical. I haven’t gotten there yet, but my guess is cleaning, serving, security, that kind of deal.”

“Get me everything there is to get.”

Callendar wiggled her shoulders. “Good thing I’d be happy staying here all day.”

Eve stepped out.

“You can see why they’re friends.” Peabody gestured toward the bedroom closet. “Lots of costumes, lots of work gear. He’s got better clothes than the woman, but basically it’s the same deal. And like hers, and the vic’s for that matter, this room like the rest of them is set up for lots of play. Not bedroom type play, game play. Not bedroom game play, but-”

“I get it, Peabody.”

The bed, a roomy platform with a padded headboard, was neatly made with a good all-weather duvet and a few plumped pillows.

“No sex toys,” she announced. “Memo cubes, unused, a couple of handheld games, over-the-counter sleep aid.”

“Bathroom kicks ass,” Peabody called out. “Bubble tub, multi-jet steam shower, sauna deck, music, screen and VR systems built in, drying tube, the works.”

“Check for meds and illegals.”

She toured the rest, the second bedroom outfitted for games, a small, well-outfitted home gym, and as she’d expected, a holo-room.

She gave Callendar the same instructions as she had McNab, called Peabody, then headed out to check the last space.

“Baxter, Trueheart, and Feeney,” Peabody told her before she asked. “Feeney wanted in.”

“He just wants to play with the toys. Impressions so far?”

“They live and work as they please, and they live their work. She’s busy, likes to have several things going at once, so she’s got clutter because she doesn’t necessarily finish one thing before going to the next. She does a little cooking and since she doesn’t have to, she must like it. No droids, which is kind of odd given what she does. I think it’s that privacy issue. When she’s in her personal space, she wants to be alone. He’s more streamlined, and pays more attention to style. The second bedroom’s set up for gaming, but he’s got a convertible sleep chair in there, just in case.”

“Okay. There’s our shadow.” Eve jutted her chin.

Across the street, Benny stood on the steps of his building, watching them come. As they approached, he jammed his hands in his pockets, hunched his shoulders, then walked quickly in the direction of Var’s apartment.

“He’s mad, but he’s sad, too. At least I think so,” Peabody added.

“You can kill and be both.”

Benny had gone for a loft, too, with a space that occupied the rear of the building, on two levels.

Peabody gaped as they entered. “Wow. It’s Commander Black’s quarters.”

“Who the hell is that?”

“Commander Black. Star Quest. This is a reproduction of his living quarters aboard the Intrepid .” Peabody ran her hand over the scrolled arm of a brown sofa. “It’s even got the burn marks from when Black had the blaster fight with Voltar. And look! That’s the old desk that was his great-grandfather’s, the first commander of the Intrepid .”

“He lives in a vid set?”

“Vid and game. And it’s a really frosty set. It’s got every detail. Plus some that aren’t.” She gestured to a pair of worn white socks, an open bag of soy chips, two empty brew bottles. “Still, tidier than the woman.”

Eve repeated the routine, going room by room, absorbing.

Yes, she thought, she could see why they were friends. Though individual preferences came through, the overall focused on the same. Fun, games, and fantasy.

Like Bart, he kept a replica droid. Male, she noted.

“Name’s Alfred,” Feeney told her. “Butler to Bruce Wayne, confidant of the Dark Knight.”

She spun around. “What? The Dark Knight.”

“Batman, kid. Even you’ve heard of Batman.”

“Yeah, yeah, vigilante with psychotic tendencies who dresses up in a weird bat costume. Rich playboy by day, right?” She turned, frowned at the droid. “Hmm.”