"Mavis, I've really got a lot of work – " But Eve was already being dragged into the parlor.
"Can I get you a drink, Dallas?" Leonardo offered her a sad, puppy dog smile. Eve crumbled.
"Sure. Fine. A glass of wine."
"Absolutely extraordinary wine. I'm Biff." The man with the map on his head offered a slim, delicate hand. "It's an honor to meet Mavis's champion, Lieutenant Dallas. You're absolutely right, Leonardo," he continued with his eyes intense behind the rosy lenses. "The bronze silk is perfect for her."
"Biff is a fabric expert," Mavis explained in a voice that continued to bubble and froth. "He's worked with Leonardo for just ever. They've been plotting your trousseau."
"My – "
"And this is Trina. She's going to do your hair."
"She is?" Eve felt the blood drain out of her head and into her feet. "Oh well, I don't…" Even women with little vanity can panic when faced with a stylist boasting rainbow curls. "I don't really think – "
"Gratis," Trina announced in a tone that was the vocal equivalent of rusted iron. "When you clear Mavis, I'm giving you free hair consultations and styling for the rest of your life." She grabbed a handful of Eve's hair and squeezed. "Good texture. Good weight. Bad cut."
"Here's your wine, Dallas."
"Thanks." She needed it. "Listen, it's nice to meet you, but I've got some work I have to get to."
"Oh, but you can't." Mavis latched onto Eve's arm like a leech. "Everyone's here to start doing you."
Now the blood flowed out of her toes. "Doing what to me?"
"We're all set up upstairs, too. Leonardo's work space, Trina's, Biff's. All the other worker bees will be buzzing around by tomorrow."
"Bees?" Eve managed. "Buzzing."
"For the show." Cold sober, and less likely to assume welcome, Leonardo patted Mavis's arm to try to restrain her enthusiasm. "Little dove, Dallas might not want the house full of people at this point. I mean…" He dodged around the investigation. "With the wedding so close."
"But it's the only way we can be together and finish the designs for the show." The plea naked in her eyes, Mavis turned back to Eve. "You don't mind, do you? We won't be in the way. Leonardo just has so much to do. Some of the designs have to be altered now because… because Jerry Fitzgerald is going to be the headliner."
"Different coloring," Biff put in. "Different body type. From Pandora," he finished, saying the name they had been avoiding.
"Yeah." Mavis's smile went bright and fixed. "So it's a lot of extra work, and Roarke said it was all right. The house is so big and everything. You won't even know they're all here."
People, Eve thought, scurrying in and out. Security nightmares. "Don't worry about it," she said. She would.
"I told you it would be all right," Mavis said, planting a kiss on Leonardo's chin. "And I promised Roarke I wouldn't let you bury yourself tonight, Dallas. You're going to sit back and be pampered. We're getting pizza."
"Oh goodie. Mavis – "
"Everything's working out," Mavis went on, almost desperately, her fingers tightening on Eve's arm. "On Channel 75 they were talking about this new lead, and these other murders, a drug connection. I didn't even know the other people who got whacked. I didn't even know them, Dallas, so it's going to come out that it was somebody else. And it's all going to be over."
"It's going to take a little time yet, Mavis." Eve stopped, felt her heart drop at the flickers of panic in Mavis's eyes, worked up a smile. "Yeah, it's all going to be over. Pizza, huh? I could use some."
"Great. Mag. I'm going to find Summerset and tell him we're ready for it. Take Dallas up and show her, okay?" She darted out.
"It really lifted her," Leonardo said quietly. "That news report. She needed a lift. The Blue Squirrel let her go."
"Let her go?"
"Bastards," Trina muttered around a canape.
"Management decided it wasn't in their best interest to have an accused murderer headlining. It shook her bad. I had the idea to take her mind off it this way. I'm sorry, I should have cleared it with you first."
"No, it's fine." Eve took another sip of wine and braced herself. "Let's go do me then."
CHAPTER TWELVE
It wasn't so bad, Eve decided. Not when compared to the riots of the Urban Wars, the torture chambers of the Spanish Inquisition, a test ride on the XR-85 moon jet. And she was a cop, a ten-year vet, used to facing danger.
She was certain her eyes wheeled like a panicked horse's when Trina tested her cropping sheers.
"Hey, maybe we could just – "
"Leave it to the experts," Trina said. Eve nearly whimpered with relief when she set the shears down again. "Let's see about this."
She approached, unarmed, but Eve watched warily.
"I've got a hair consult program." Leonardo looked up from the long table, covered with fabrics where he and Biff muttered together. "Full morphing capabilities."
"I don't need a stinking program." To prove it, Trina caught Eve's face in her firm, wide hands. Eyes narrowed, she began to move up then around Eve's head, over the jaw, up the cheekbones. "Decent bone structure," she approved. "Who do you use?"
"For what?"
"Face sculpting."
"God."
Trina paused, snickered, then let out an ear-blasting laugh, the tone of a rusted tuba. "I like your cop, Mavis."
"She's the best," Mavis said drunkenly. She perched on a nearby stool, studying herself in the triple mirrors. "Maybe you could do me, too, Trina. The lawyers suggested I go for a more sedate look. You know, brunette or something."
"Fuck that." Trina pressed her thumbs under Eve's jaw to lift it. "I've got some new shit that'll blast any judge out of his robe, cutie. Bordello pink with silver tipping. Just on the market."
"Oh yeah." Mavis flipped her sapphire locks back and considered.
"What I could do for you with a little highlighting."
Eve's blood ran cold. "Just the cut, right? We're just snipping a little."
"Yeah, yeah." Trina pushed Eve's head onto her chest. "This color a gift from God, too?" She chuckled to herself, yanked Eve's head back, and dragged all the hair away from her face. "The eyes are good. The brows could use a little work, but we can fix that."
"Give me some more wine, Mavis." Eve shut the eyes that were good, and told herself whatever happened, it would grow back.
"Okay, wet down." Trina whirled the chair and its reluctant occupant to a porta-sink, tipped it back until Eve's neck was braced in the padded slot. "Close your eyes and enjoy, honey. I give the best shampoo and head massage in the business."
There was something to be said for that. The wine or Trina's clever fingers mellowed Eve's mood toward some twilight world of relaxation. Dimly she heard Leonardo and Biff arguing over their preferences of crimson satin or scarlet silk for evening pajamas. The music Leonardo had programmed was something classical with sobbing piano arpeggios, and the scent of crushed flowers filled the air.
Why had Paul Redford told her about the Chinese box and the illegals? If he'd gone back for them himself, had them in his possession, why would he want their existence known?
Double bluff? A ploy? Maybe there had never been a box to begin with. Or he knew it was gone already so…
Eve didn't stir until something cold and sticky was slapped on her face. Then she yelped.
"What the hell – "
"A Saturnia facial." Trina glopped on more dun-colored goo. "Clear out your pores like a vacuum. It's a crime to neglect your skin. Mavis, get out the Sheena, will you?"
"What's the Sheena – never mind." With one final shudder, Eve closed her eyes and surrendered. "I don't want to know."