"Do these hanging buddies have actual names?"

"Oh, oh, yeah."

"Give them to the officer, along with your address. Then you're free to go."

"I can go? Just go?" His face underwent rapid changes, from shock to suspicion, from relief to disappointment. "I don't have to, like, get a lawyer or something?"

"Just stay available, Dingo."

She had to pick her way through the same minefield of nerves with Liza Blue, who turned out to be hair and enhancement consultant. When her teeth started chattering. Eve heaved a long, long breath.

"Look, Liza, do you have anything to feel guilty about?"

"Well, I cheated on my boyfriend last week."

"I'm not going to arrest you for that. How long have you worked for Hastings?"

"Um, I freelance, you know. I work for lots of photographers, and do hair and enhancements for weddings and special occasions, like that. He likes my work, so I've been doing shoots for about a year." She looked plaintively at Eve. "Is that right?"

"Who supplies the enhancements?"

"I have my own kit, but Hastings keeps a supply. He's real fussy. Lots of them are."

"Does he have any Barrymore products?"

"Sure. That's good stuff."

"Have you ever worked on this girl?" Eve asked, handing over the print of Rachel Howard.

Liza pursed her lips. "I don't think so. I'd use a good strong pink lip dye. If I used Barrymore, like you were asking about, I'd maybe use First Blush or Spring Rose. Bring out the shape of her mouth. She's got a nice one, but it could pop a little more. And she ought to bring out her eyes some. She looks kind of familiar though. I don't know where-"

She broke off, and dropped the print as if it had burst into flames. "That's the one who's dead. I saw on the news. That's the girl they found downtown in a recycle bin."

"Where were you night before last?"

"With my boyfriend." Her voice quivered. "With Ivan. I felt real bad about cheating on him. I don't know why I did. I almost told him last night, but I clucked. We went to a vid, then back to his place."

" Peabody, get her data. You can go on home, Liza."

"You think maybe Hastings killed her? I don't want to come back here if you think he killed her."

"He's not charged with anything. I just need to ask questions."

Eve went to the room where Hastings waited. He was sitting, his arms folded over his chest, staring at himself in the dressing room mirror.

"We can do this a couple of ways," Eve began. "I can take you in, hold you, while I get warrants to search this building, including your private residence upstairs, and your vehicles. Or, you can agree now to allow this search."

"You're not going to find a fucking thing."

"Well then, it shouldn't worry you to have us look."

His eyes met hers in the mirror. "So look."

Chapter 9

She called in a team, and looked.

She found no illegals, which surprised her. She'd have pegged Hastings as the type for a taste of a little recreational Zoner, but his place was clean. None of the tranq used in subduing Rachel Howard turned up in the toss of his apartment, studio, or vehicles.

There were a number of Barrymore enhancements in the studio kit, and she matched the shades and products to those used on Rachel.

Tried to imagine Hastings carefully painting the girl's lips, brushing color on her eyelids with those big hands.

There was no chair on the premises that matched the one used in Rachel's death portrait, but she did find a large spool of wire. The wire and enhancements went into evidence bags, without a peep of protest from Hastings when she gave him a receipt.

She'd leave it to the sweepers and lab techs to take samples of carpet for a comparison to the fibers in evidence while she concentrated on the massive imaging files.

Part of that concentration was to breathe down McNab's neck while he ran a disc search.

"Lieutenant." In defense, McNab hunched his bony shoulders. "This guy's got tens of thousands of images on file. It's going to take some time for me to run through them and match the victim's face, if she's here."

"She's here. He recognized her."

"Okay, but…" He turned his head, and all but bumped noses with Eve. "I could use a little space here."

Eve scowled at the computer screen. Half of it was filled with Rachel's smiling face, the other with a rapid blur as filed images whizzed by. Sooner or later it would stop. She knew it would stop. And a second image of Rachel would appear.

"The machine's doing all the work."

"I respectfully disagree," he replied. "The machine's only as good as its operator."

"EDD propaganda." But she backed off. She was crowding him, and knew it. "I want to know the minute you get a hit."

"You'll be the first."

She glanced over to where Hastings sat, arms folded, mouth set in a perpetual frown as he watched the small army of cops buzz through his studio. With her attention on him, she motioned to her aide. " Peabody."

"Sir."

"Pick a uniform and go interview the second name on your list."

"Sir?"

"Was there some foreign language in that order?"

"You want me to handle the interview?" Peabody 's face had gone sheet pale. "Without you?"

"Is there any reason, after more than a year in Homicide, you feel unable to question a suspect without the primary holding your hand?"

"No, sir." Now her face went bright pink. "It's just that you always-I haven't-" She swallowed hard under Eve's bland stare, then squared her shoulders. "I'll take Catstevens, Lieutenant."

"Fine. When you've finished, contact me for further orders."

"Yes, sir. I appreciate you trusting me with this."

"Good. Don't screw up." She turned her back on Peabody, mentally crossing her fingers to wish her aide luck, then sauntered over to Hastings.

Her gut told her the lead was here, and Peabody would get nothing more out of the assignment than some solid field experience.

She leaned back against the windowsill, crossed her feet at the ankles. "It's a pisser, isn't it, having strangers put their fingers all over your stuff." She waited a beat while he simply stared through her. "We can cut a lot of the crap if you tell me how you know Rachel Howard."

"I never said I knew her. Seen her face somewhere. That's not a freaking crime."

"You take pictures of her?"

"Might have."

"Here, in the studio."

His brows drew together. Eve saw him struggle to think back. "No."

"She's never been up here?"

"How the hell do I know?" His voice boomed out again, ripe with frustration. "People bring people up here. Christ knows why. I hire a model or a group, and they just have to bring somebody along. Mostly I kick their asses back out, but every once in a while I'm in a good mood." He smiled thinly. "I try not to let that happen often."

"You make decent money with the imaging?"

Now he sneered. "You make decent money as a cop?"

"Hell, no. So you do it because you do it." She hooked her thumbs in her pockets, finding herself intrigued by him. "And you take images of people, even when you don't particularly like the breed." Now, she nodded. "I can relate to that. But what we have here's a pretty young girl. Men usually find a use for pretty young girls."

His color came up. "I don't muck around with the college set. For Christ's sake, I'm forty years old, what do I want with some skinny coed? I use LCs for sex. It's clean, professional, and there's no baggage. I don't like personal connections."

He's playing me,Eve thought with some amusement. "Yeah, they sure complicate things."

"I like faces." He muttered it. "I can sit here right now thinking you're a pain in the ass cop who's royally screwed up my day, but I like your face. I can hate your guts and still like your face."