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Eve stepped out, but turned and laid her hand on the door to keep it open. “Keep your partner on a leash, and I’ll consider it.”

She let the doors close and walked to her parking slot. Her pea-green unit sat, dented, scarred, and with a bright yellow smiley face some joker in Maintenance had painted beaming out from the rear window.

It was probably a very good thing Eve didn’t have that riot laser.

chapter seven

Eve hit the salon first and was pleasantly surprised when her vehicle made the trip without embarrassing her.

She’d walked through the doors of Paradise before, tracking another murderer, another sexual homicide. Another case that had involved Roarke. The first one, she thought, that had connected us.

It had been more than a year, but the opulent decor of the salon hadn’t changed. Soft, soothing music played, harmonizing with the splashing waterfalls and drifting through the air delicately scented by the long sweeps and tall spires of fresh flowers.

Patrons sat or lounged amid the splendor of the waiting area, sipping tiny cups of genuine coffee or spring-hued glasses of fruit juice or fizzy water. The receptionist was the same bountifully breasted woman in snug, short red who had greeted Eve before.

The hair was different, Eve noted. This time around it was Easter egg pink and styled in a streaming fountain of curls that burst out of a high cone on the crown of her head.

Recognition didn’t register in her eyes, but dismay and annoyance did the moment she spotted Eve’s worn jacket, scarred boots, and shaggily styled hair.

“I’m sorry, we serve by previous appointment only in Paradise. I’m afraid all our consultants are fully booked for the next eight months. May I suggest an alternate salon?”

Eve leaned on the high counter, crossed her boots at the ankles. “You don’t remember me, Denise? Gee, I’m really hurt. Wait a minute! I bet you’ll remember this.” Smiling cheerfully, Eve pulled out her badge and pushed it under the receptionist’s expensively sculpted nose.

“Oh. Oh. Not again.” Even as the words tripped out of her mouth, Denise remembered just who the cop had married since last they’d met. “I mean, I do beg your pardon, miss, I—”

“That’s Lieutenant Miss.”

“Of course.” Denise tried out a lilting laugh. “I’m afraid I was distracted. We’re so busy today. But never too busy to make room for you. What can we do for you?”

“Where’s your retail section?”

“I’d be delighted to show you. Is there a particular product you have in mind, or are you just browsing? Our consultants will—”

“Just show me what you’ve got, Denise, and get me the manager of the area.”

“Right away. If you’d just come with me. Can I get you and your associate any refreshment?”

Peabody spoke fast, knowing Eve would cut off any hope given half a chance. “I’d like one of those pink fizzy drinks. Nonalcoholic,” she added when Eve gave her a baleful stare.

“I’ll have it brought right in to you.”

Retail was up a level, a short ride on a silver glide, and beyond a small oasis complete with pool and palms. Wide glass doors parted with a fluid little tinkle at their approach. On the other side, the retail area spread in an artful fan, with each spoke dedicated to a different form of beautification.

Staff here wore flowing red coats over snowy white skinsuits. And those were worn over perfect bodies.

Each display counter held its own miniscreen where simultaneous demonstrations were being shown on skin care, body toning, relaxation techniques, and emergency hairstyling.

All with lavish use, of course, of products sold on site.

“Please, feel free to look around while I fetch Martin. He oversees our retail service.”

“Man, look at all this great stuff.” Peabody edged toward a display of skin care with a dazzling arrangement of frosted glass bottles, gold tubes, and red-capped pots. “Fancy places like this give out great free samples.”

“Keep your hands in your pockets and your mind on the job.”

“But if it’s free—”

“They’ll just talk you into spending six months’ pay on gunk to