Born in Death (14 page)

Baby roses, baby iris, baby’s breath—and an assortment of other baby-type posies Eve had already forgotten—were spilling out of little silver baskets shaped like cradles.

Buffet tables, also rainbow-hued, were already set up. The caterer had dressed one with china following the color scheme, more miniature candles, more flowers, and an ice sculpture of a stork carrying a little sack in its beak.

Eve had been sure it would be silly, and instead it was sort of charming.

Both fires simmered low, and in the center of it all the rocker was draped in rainbows and decked in flowers.

“I guess it looks pretty good.”

“Very sweet.” Roarke took her hand. “Very female. Congratulations.”

“I didn’t do that much.”

“That’s not true. You dragged your feet every chance you got, but you picked them up and did the job.” He brought her hand to his lips, then leaned down to kiss her.

“Oops.” Peabody stopped in the doorway and grinned. “Don’t mean to interrupt if the stork and all the cradles are giving you guys ideas.”

“Don’t make me hurt you,” Eve warned.

“I’ve got Mavis out here. I thought maybe you’d want to show her in.”

“Has pregnancy affected her eyesight?”

“No, I just—never mind,” Peabody said with a laugh. “Okay, Mavis.”

She might have been carrying an extra twenty pounds, but Mavis could still bounce. She all but boinged into the room on pink airboots that slicked up to her knees. Her blue and white skirt fluttered like flower petals beneath the basketball bulge of her belly. The sleeves of her dress displayed a geometric pattern of color that came to points over the backs of her hands.

Her hair—a soft, pale blonde today—was scooped back in a long, twisty tail as bouncy as she was.

She stopped short, slapped both hands over her mouth. And burst into tears.

“Oh shit. Oh shit” was all Eve could manage.

“No, no, no.” Still sobbing, even as Leonardo rushed in behind her, Mavis waved one of her hands. “I’m so knocked-up. I’m a total victim of the hormones. It’s sopretty ! Oh, oh, it’s all rainbows and flowers. It’s so mag. It’s so mag, Dallas.”

She sobbed her way across the room and threw herself into Eve’s arms—bulging belly first.

“Okay, good then. Glad you like it.”

“I absolove it. Peabody!” Mavis flung out a hand, pulling Peabody into a three-way embrace. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Maybe you should sit down.”

“No, I’m okay. I just flood off and on. Isn’t that right, honey-pie?” she said to Leonardo.

“We had baby carrots last night.” He was already passing her tissues. “She cried for ten minutes.”

Obviously the memory made her laugh, as she grinned and turned to give the bulk of him a squeeze. “I don’t know how you put up with me. Three in the morning? I woke up starved. Like shackled-in-the-cellar-for-a-week starved. And my baby bear got up and fixed me scrambled eggs. Oh, oh, check it out!” She bounced again as she looked at the canopied chair. “It’s like a throne, right? I get to sit there.”

“That’s your spot,” Eve confirmed.

“Can I give you a hand, your majesty?” Roarke offered his.

“This is TTF. Too Totally Frosty. You’re going to run away for the day with my sweetie, aren’t you?”

“As soon as humanly possible,” he told her, and helped her into the chair.

“Well, okay. I give you leave.”

“Give her the stuff,” Peabody whispered.

“She might start crying again.”

“I get stuff? Already?” Since she was sitting, the best Mavis could do was bounce on her butt. “What? Where? Oh, God, I love stuff.”

Uneasy about the results, Eve went to a cabinet, took out the scepter and tiara.

“Oh, boy! Uptown squared.”

Relieved because this time Mavis’s eyes glittered with laughter instead of tears, Eve passed the tiara to Leonardo.

“You probably know how to get it on right.”

“Crown me, moonpie,” Mavis told him. “And let the games begin.”

Within the hour, the room was so full of estrogen Eve thought she could bottle it and sell it on the black market. Women nibbled, sipped, cooed over other women’s protruding bellies and chatted about the things she understood they chatted about when they got together as a species.

Hair.That’s a great look for you, and what a mag color! Where do you go?

Clothes.Absolutely fabulous shoes. Are they comfortable?

Men.He just doesn’t listento what I need to say.

And due to the nature of the event, they talked of babies, babies, and more babies.

The new fact she discovered was that women who’d already had children felt compelled to share their childbirth experiences with those about to head to the labor mines.

Sixteen hours, and two and a half of that pushing. But it was worth it.

Titania popped out as soon as my water broke. If I’d been ten minutes later getting to the birthing center, she’d have been born in the cab!

I had to have a C. Wiley just wouldn’t turn.

They were also full of advice.

Youhaveto get Magdelina’s Symphony For Giving Life! I’d have been lost without it. So empowering.

Water births are the only way to go. I had both of mine in a birthing lagoon. It’s a religious experience.

Take the drugs.

And that one, Eve thought, was the most sensible statement of the day.

With a frosty bellini in her hand, Nadine Furst—ace reporter and soon-to-be host of her own crime-beat show—wandered over. “You give a good party, Dallas. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mavis look happier. She’s literally radiating.”

“Wait, she could start bawling any minute.”

“Hormones.” Nadine shrugged. She was wearing her streaky blonde hair sleek these days around her sharp face. “Wanted to talk to you.”

“Hair looks great, fantastic shoes, and I’m sure whatever man you’re currently banging is handsome and wise. Does that cover it?”

“No, but you got three out of three. We’re fine-tuning the format for my show, and the producers and I thought it would just top it off if we had a monthly segment with you. An intense hour every four weeks that not only focuses on whatever case you’re working, but gives a roundup of what you’ve handled through the month.”

Nadine lifted her glass in a kind of toast before she sipped. “Adds a nice punch to the format, and it’s good exposure, good PR for the NYPSD.”

“A monthly deal? Let me think about it a minute. No.”

Nadine merely sipped her drink, cocked a brow. “Which is exactly what I told my team you’d say. So I have this alternative, which I think would suit us both. A monthly segment with Homicide. Someone in your division comes on every four weeks. All you have to do is assign the detective, give me the heads-up so I can prep. It’s good screen, Dallas. And it gives the viewing public a face.”

“Maybe.” The reality was there had to be some give and take with the media, and the plus was Eve knew she could trust Nadine to give a balanced view. “Something like that I’d have to run by the brass.”

“You’re still first up.” She tapped Eve’s shoulder. “The one you’re working now would have a kick. Two lovers—young, attractive, and seemingly ordinary—bound, tortured, and killed. How’s it going?”

“That’s what I like about you, Nadine. You know how to make party conversation.”

“Would you rather talk about childbirth and breast-feeding?”

“I’d rather be stabbed in the eye with a burning stick. It’s going. You got any dish on a Walter Cavendish? Rich lawyer.”

“No, but I can poke around.”

“How about the Bullock Foundation?”

“Huge. Donates mucho moolah, funds programs, gives grants. London-based with a worldwide reach and some off-planet interests. Headed now by Bullock’s widow and second wife, who enjoys the limelight, and her son, who’s rarely far from her side. Just what does the respected and generous Bullock Foundation have to do with two dead accountants?”

“That’s the question.”

Because she saw Peabody rushing over and knew she was about to be tossed back into Babyland, Eve grabbed a bellini for herself.

“We have to do the games.” Peabody had a gleam in her eye that might have come from the bellinis, or the overdose of estrogen.

“Go ahead,” Eve told her.

“Nuh-uh! You have to run them. If I do it, I can’t play. I wanna play.”

“Don’t look at me,” Nadine said when Eve turned to her.

“Oh, hell. Fine, great. I’m on it.”

She’d run ops, she ran a squad of detectives. She could handle a hundred women over a bunch of stupid games.

They were insane, Eve discovered within the first fifteen minutes. The room was packed with women who were psychotic and certifiable. Screaming, shouting, laughing like mental patients over the race to decipher each rubric she held up.

She wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t be forced to subdue a brunette who looked big enough to be carrying triplets.

“Cradle Robber!” The woman screeched out.

“Okay, good. You got it. Settle down.” Eve pressed a finger to her eyes, breathed, and prayed she’d make it through the next two rounds without becoming a gibbering idiot.

At last she got a break as the victor insisted on being hauled to her feet to waddle over to inspect the prizes and select her spoils.

“Dallas?” From her throne, Mavis reached up for Eve’s hand.

“You need something? You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m better than good. It’s just Tandy’s not here. I don’t know what could’ve happened. I tried her place, and her pocket ’link, but she’s not picking up. Maybe she went into labor, but I tried the birthing center, and she hasn’t checked in.”

“Maybe she forgot.”

“Just couldn’t. Last time I talked to her she was all about it. I’m kind of worried.”

“Don’t be.” A worried Mavis could turn on a dime into a blubbering Mavis. “Listen, she was pretty close to popping, right? Maybe she was just too tired or whatever. She turned off her ’links and took a nap. Try her again later.”

“Yeah, maybe. Sure, she’s fine. Just needed to rest. I hate that she’s missing it. It’s the ult party. Everything’s just frosty, and she was really looking forward to it.”

When Mavis started to water up, Eve crouched beside her. “Hey, don’t get upset. We’ll, um, we’ll put some cake away for her. And one of the favor things.”

“That’d be good. I’m never going to forget today, Dallas. Not if I live to be a zillion and five.”

“Just relax and enjoy. I’ve got to start the next round.”

Crazed game-playing females were slightly less scary than an emotionally wound-up, extremely knocked-up Mavis.

She got through the games, and with Peabody happily volunteering to deliver the booty, the party shifted to the present portion of the program.

Hoping to distance herself from the coos and squeals that broke out each time Mavis ripped at wrapping paper, Eve dropped into a chair across the room. Moments later, Mira joined her.

“Quite a celebration.”

“How do they stay so charged?” Eve wondered. “I was afraid I’d have to put on my riot gear.”

“Babies, particularly when they’re so wanted, bring unparalleled joy. And for us, for women—whether or not we choose to have them—we know we’re the only ones capable of bringing them into the world. We’re the power.” She patted Eve’s hand. “You’ve done a lovely thing for your friend.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to pull it off. Not sure I would have without Peabody cracking the whip. It’s been worth it.”

“Like sixteen hours of labor?” Mira said with a smile.

“Oh, God,why ? Why do they revel in talking about all that? It’s creepy.”

“It’s the power, and the love. And each experience is unique, no matter how long the human race has propagated. It’s intimate and astonishing, and it binds us as women. One day, when you’re ready, you’ll know.”

“Seeing all this—and that birthing class I had to take—it’s pushed the idea—which is actually more of a concept—way, way down on my to-do list.”

“When you’re ready,” Mira repeated. “I like watching them. Women. The different sizes and shapes, the colors. The dynamics that form. Look at Louise and Nadine, sitting over there with their heads together. And Mavis’s friend Trina, huddled with those two women. Probably giving them hair and skin-care advice for during pregnancy. And Peabody, hauling gifts in her efficient way, so happy to be useful. Mavis on her throne—a charming concept, by the way—looking so healthy and vital.

“And here we sit, you and I. The observers.”

“A lot of it, for me, is like watching aliens. Still, not without it’s entertainment value,” Eve admitted. “Take that blonde over there, in the red dress. Her feet are killing her. But people complimented her shoes, and she claimed they were comfortable. Now she’s stuck. And the brunette—short, green skirt? She keeps wandering back to the food table. She takes this little sliver of cake each time. Hit it about a dozen times now. But she can’t just go and take a human-sized piece straight off. She tells herself the sliver doesn’t count.”

When Mira laughed, Eve relaxed into a game she knew how to play. “And Trina? First, let me thank God she’s been too busy to corner me about my hair. She’s soliciting clients—no point letting an opportunity like this go by. But at the same time, she’s rarely more than three feet away from Mavis. Watching out for her. Brought her a fizzy, some cake. Went with her every time Mavis made one of her countless trips out to pee.”

“She told me she had a new product that, quote, ‘Kicks the ass out of winter dryness.’ She even gave me a sample. Ah, Mavis is about to open Peabody’s gift. I can’t wait to see it.”

“She’s nervous. Peabody,” Eve added. “Standing there sweating, afraid Mavis won’t like it as much as she hoped. Giving gifts is torture.”

But when Mavis lifted the lid on the box, there was a stunned look on her face, followed by a collective gasp by those close enough to see the contents.

“Oh,Peabody !”

And the awed, almost reverent joy in Mavis’s voice told Eve her partner had hit the bull’s-eye.

She lifted out, gently, the little booties and hat done in a rainbow of pastels. It seemed to Eve every woman in the room went gooey. And when Mavis took out the blanket, there were exclamations, and fingers reaching out to touch and stroke.