The In Death Collection Books 16-20 - J. D. Robb [549]
“Damn straight. You drive like one of those prissy ladies at lunch who won’t take the last cookie in case somebody else wants it. No, please, please,” Eve said in a high, satisfyingly prissy voice, “you go ahead. Hell with that. I want the cookie, I eat the cookie. Now, give me a for instance and stop sulking.”
“I get thirty seconds of sulk time when my driving abilities have been so brutally and unjustly insulted. Besides, taking the last cookie is rude.”
“And you and your prissy lady pals end up letting the waiter chow down on it after he takes the plate back to the kitchen.”
With a huff, Peabody folded her arms over her chest because she realized that was probably true. And there were many cookies she’d missed due to manners. “For instance what?”
“Say you’re shacked up with this guy.”
Her mood lifted instantly. “I am shacked up with a guy,” she said proudly.
“Peabody.”
“Yeah, yeah, this is a hypothetical.” She sulked a little more as Eve plowed through a yellow light. “Is he really cute and sexy, and does he bring me cookies and let me eat the last one to show his love and devotion?”
“Whatever. So you and this guy call it off.”
“Aw. I don’t like this part.”
“Who does?”
“Was it because I ate all those cookies and my ass got fat?”
“Peabody!”
“Okay, okay. Sir. I’m just trying to understand the motivation. Like who called it off, and why, and . . . never mind,” she said when she saw Eve bare her teeth.
“You call it off, go your separate ways. You still pals?”
“Maybe. Depends. Don’t bite through my jugular or anything, because it really does. Did the breakup involve calling each other unflattering names and hurling small, breakable objects, or was it sad, yet reasonable, a mutual decision. See?”
Eve didn’t see it, but stayed the course. “No, but we’ll say, for this case, it was sad, yet reasonable. So later this guy hooks up with another skirt. How would you feel about that?”
“Depends again. Am I hooked up with a guy? Is the other woman thinner than me, or better looking, or rich or something? Does she have perkier boobs? These factors play in.”
“Goddamn it, why does it have to be so complicated?”
“Because it is.”
“No, you’re with the guy, then you’re not, then he’s with somebody else. Simple, straightforward. Are you all chummy?”
“Okay, let’s see. I was hot for this guy before I moved to New York. We weren’t cohabbing, but we were pretty involved. Stuck together, in every sense, for nearly a year. Then it fizzled. I wasn’t wrecked or anything, but I was pretty, well, moony for a while. You get over it, though. We stayed friendly, you could say, and I used to see him around.”
“Is this going to take much longer? Will I need a hit of Stay-Up to get through the rest?”
“You asked. Anyway, he hooked up with this skinny blonde with big tits. IQ of a rabbit, but hey, his choice, right? I felt a little pissy about it, but I got over that, too. Maybe, in some dark recesses of my soul, I wouldn’t mind so much if he got a mild case of genital warts, but his dick doesn’t have to actually fall off or anything. And if me and McNab ever take a spin out West, I can show him—McNab—off. And so there. No big.”
She waited a beat. “Still awake?”
“Barely.”
“If you’re thinking Celina’s got some mojo vengeance thing going because of Grande and Sommers, I don’t see it. Doesn’t work that way anyhow.”
“What doesn’t work that way? You just said depends about six million times.”
“The psychic angle doesn’t work that way. It’s not like she could put a spell on some guy, have him go around whacking women and make sure one of them was Sommers. Second, she came to us. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have made a blip on the investigative radar when Sommers got dead. Third, all evidence points to the fact that Sommers went into the park voluntarily and alone. Then there’s the profile. Guy’s a loner, a woman hater, and a predator.”
“You’re right, all the way down the line. I guess I don’t like paranormal logic, which smacks mightily of coincidence.”
“I think there’s another factor working in your