"Maybe you missed your calling, Baxter. You should be in PR."

"And give up this cushy job and the great salary?"

She laughed. "Horseshit or not, that's the current game plan. And unless we get a substantial break soon, I'm going to end up on the morning shows hyping justice like it was the latest entertainment vid. If that happens, I'll make all of you suffer beyond imagining."

She turned for the door. "Peabody, with me."

She waited until they were back in her office. "Don't hover over McNab like that."

"Sir?"

"You hover over him, you're going to make him think you're worried."

"I am worried. The twenty-four-"

"Worry all you want, dump on me if you need to. But don't let him see it. He's starting to fray, and he's trying hard not to show it. You try just as hard not to show it. If you need to vent, go out there on the kitchen terrace. Scream your lungs out."

"Is that what you do?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes I kick inanimate objects. Sometimes I jump Roarke and have jungle sex. The last," she said after a beat, "is not an option for you."

"But I think it would really make me feel better, and be a more productive member of the investigative team."

"Good, humor is good. Get me coffee."

"Yes, sir. Thanks. It's going to be a minute on the coffee. I think I'll try the terrace thing."

Eve sat, began to thread her way through Mary Ellen George's life.

The sealed files remained sealed. She'd gotten her warrant, and Child Services had immediately trumped it with a temporary restraining order. The TRO would hold her off until lawyers fought it out in court.

Days, she thought. Days lost. Unless she took another route.

Before she did, she'd try a more legitimate angle. For the third time that day, she put in a call to Detective Sergeant Thomas Dwier.

This time she tagged him instead of his voice mail.

"Sergeant, Lieutenant Dallas. I've been trying to tag you."

"I'm in court." He had a tough, lived-in face. "We're on a fifteen. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"I'm primary on the Purity homicides. You hear about that?"

"Who hasn't? You tapping me because of that asshole Fitzhugh?"

"I'm digging for what I can find. I'd like to pick your brain over it. You also were part of the team on Mary Ellen George."

"Yeah, thought we had her solid, but she slithered. What's the connection?"

"She's dead."

"So, the wheel goes round and round. Don't know what I can tell you about either one of them that's not in the files."

"Why don't I buy you a beer after court? I'm jammed up, Dwier. I could use some help."

"Sure, what the hell. You know O'Malley's off of Eighth on Twenty-third?"

"I'll find it."

"Should be done here in an hour."

"I'll meet you at O'Malley's." She glanced at the time. "Seventeen hundred."

"Should work. They're calling us back. Later."

She turned from the 'link as Peabody set a mug of coffee on the desk. "Better?"

"Yeah, I guess. Throat's kinda sore. Your fridgie and your AutoChef are both out of Pepsi."

"Jamie must drink it by the truckload. Tell Summerset, then-"

She broke off when a small tornado burst into her office.

Mavis Freestone moved fast. The two-inch platforms on her purple gel-sandals didn't seem to affect speed or balance. She zoomed into Eve's office, a blur of purple, pink, and possibly puce, all mixed together in a micro-skirt and tit tube that almost covered the essentials. Her hair was in what appeared to be a half-million braids that echoed the color theme.

She spun to the desk, around it-the squishy gel on her feet making littlesproinging sounds-and caught Eve in a headlock embrace that cut off all oxygen to the brain.

Eve managed to glug, slap on the arms that pressed on her windpipe.

"This is thebest day! The most totally mag day ever invented. I love you, Dallas."

"Then why are you trying to kill me?"

"Sorry, sorry." But she squeezed again until Eve's ears began to ring. "I've got to talk to you."

"Can't." Freed, Eve coughed, rubbed at her throat. "Even if I were physically able I'm buried here. I'll call you when I surface."

"I have to. It's important. It's likevital. Please, please, please." She bounced as she begged, and the virulent mix of colors on the move made Eve dizzy.

"Two minutes. Talk fast."

"It's private. Sorry, Peabody, but… please!"

"Peabody, go find Summerset, tell him to hunt up a cargo plane full of Pepsi."

"Close the door, okay. Would you? Thanks." Still bouncing, Mavis linked her hands, held them between her small, barely restrained breasts. Her ringers winked and glowed with rings. On her left arm some sort of coil snaked from wrist to elbow. Eve wondered if the impression of it would be permanently stamped on her throat.

"Make it fast, Mavis." Eve scooped back her hair, gulped down coffee. "I'm really pressed. Weren't you supposed to be somewhere?"

"FreeStar One. Olympus Resort. Did a week gig at the Apollo Casino. It rocked. I just got back this morning."

"Good. Great." Eve shifted her gaze to her screen, began to process the data in her head. "We'll get together when I'm clear. You can tell me all about it."

"I'm knocked up."

"Fine. We'll cover that. We can-" Her brain simply went on hold, as if someone had flicked a switch that shut down all the circuits. When it clicked back, there seemed to be some sort of blip blanking out basic reasoning functions.

"What did you say?"

"I'm knocked up." Mavis let out a snorting laugh, then slapped her hands over her mouth. Her eyes, as purple as her shoes today, danced like a pair of chorus girls.

"You're… You…" Stunned into stammering, Eve stared at Mavis's bare midriff, at the trio of belly dangles that sparkled from her navel. "You got something growing in there?"

Her hands still over her mouth, Mavis nodded rapidly. "A baby." The laugh spurted through her fingers. "I've got a baby in there. Is that the ult? Is that beyond the beyond? Feel!" She snagged Eve's hand and pressed it to her belly.

"Oh, Jesus. Maybe I shouldn't touch it."

"It's okay, it's all padded and everything. What do you think?"

"I don't know." Cautious, Eve slid her hand away, tucked it behind her back. Logically she knew pregnancy wasn't contagious, but all the same. "What do you think? I mean, are you… did you… Damn, I'm not processing yet. Was this, like, an accident?"

"No. We did it on purpose." She scooted her tiny butt onto the desk, swung her pretty legs so the gel sandals bumped and squished against the wood. "We've been trying to procreate for a while. Me and Leonardo are really good at the process. We didn't have any luck at first, but you know, try, try again. We tried a lot," she said on another wild giggle.

"Are you sure you're not just drunk?"

"No, totally pregs." She patted her belly. "Embryo's in and cooking."

"Oh, God, don't say embryo." For some reason the word in combination with the squishy sound of the gel made Eve queasy.

"Come on, we all started out as one."

"Maybe. But I don't like to think about it."

"I'm like totally focused on it now. But wait, because I'm getting ahead of myself. Anyhow, when I was at Olympus, I got this feeling maybe I was baking-I waswhooshing in the mornings and-"

"Okay, skip that part, too." Definitely queasy now, Eve realized, and made a mental note to sterilize the hand that had pressed against Mavis's bare belly.

"Right, so I took a preg test and it was positive. Then, you know, I got worried I'd messed it up because I wanted it so much, so I took three more. Liftoff."

She pushed off the desk, whirled around the room. "Then I went to the clinic up there, just to be more sure. I didn't want to say anything to my honeydew until I was abso-poso. I'm six weeks into the deal."