Rapture in Death by J. D. Robb

a breath, scooped her hair out of her eyes, and glanced over her shoulder. “Well, Peabody, want to go to a recording session, get your ears fried, eat bad food, and get drunk on bad brew?”
    Peabody didn’t have to think twice. “As a matter of fact, Lieutenant, I’d love to.”
    It took a lot of banging on a gray steel door that looked as though it had been on the wrong end of a battering ram somewhere along the line. The rain from that morning had turned into steam that smelled unpleasantly of street oil and the recycling units that never seemed to be in full repair in that part of town.
    With more resignation than energy, Eve watched two chemi-heads make deals under the dirty light of a street-lamp. Neither of them so much as blinked at Peabody’s uniform. Eve turned when one of the powder junkies took a hit less than five feet away.
    “Damn it, that’s just too arrogant. Bust him.”
    Resigned, Peabody headed over. The chemi-head focused, swore and, swallowing the paper his powder had been cupped in, swung around to run. He skidded on the wet pavement and banged face first into the lamppost. By the time Peabody reached him, he was flat on his back and bleeding profusely from the nose.
    “He’s out cold,” she called to Eve.
    “Idiot. Call it in. Get a cruiser over here to haul him into the tank. You want the collar?”
    Peabody considered, then shook her head. “Not worth it. The beat cop can take it.” She pulled out her communicator, gave the location as she walked back to Eve. “The dealer’s still across the street,” she commented. “He’s got air blades, but I could try to chase him down.”
    “I sense a lack of enthusiasm.” Eve narrowed her eyes, scanned the dealer hulking across the street, air blades steaming. “Hey, asshole,” she called out. “You see this uniform here?” She jerked a thumb at Peabody. “Take your business someplace else, or I’ll tell her to bump her weapon up to level three and watch you piss your pants.”
    “Cunt,” he shouted back and whizzed off on his blades.
    “You’ve got a real way with community relations, Dallas.”
    “Yeah, it’s a gift.” Eve turned back, prepared to beat on the door again, and found herself facing a female of massive proportions. She was easily six five, with shoulders wide as a highway. They rose out of a sleeveless leather vest and rippled with muscles and tattoos. Beneath, she wore a unisuit, snug as skin and the color of a healing bruise. She sported a copper nose ring and close-cropped hair fashioned into tight, glossy black curls.
    “Fucking drug pushers,” she said in a voice like a cannon boom. “Stink up the neighborhood. You Mavis’s cop?”
    “That’s right, and I brought my cop with me.”
    The woman sized Peabody up out of milky blue eyes. “Solid. Mavis says you’re right. I’m Big Mary.”
    Eve angled her head. “Yes, you are.”
    It took about ten seconds, then Big Mary’s moon-sized face creased in a knife-edged grin. “Come on in. Jess is just heating up.” By way of welcome, she took Eve’s arm and lifted her up and into the short hallway. “Come on, Dallas’s cop.”
    “Peabody.” With a cautious glance, Peabody kept warily out of Big Mary’s reach.
    “Pea body. Yeah, you ain’t much bigger than a pea.” Roaring at her own joke, Big Mary carted Eve into a padded elevator, waited for the door to close. They were cocooned together, tight as fish in a pan as Mary directed the unit to take them up one level. “Jess, he says to take you up to control. You got money?”
    It was hard to maintain dignity of any kind when Eve’s nose was pressed in Mary’s armpit. “What for?”
    “We got food coming. You gotta plunk in your share for the eats.”
    “All right. Is Roarke here yet?”
    “Ain’t seen no Roarke. Mavis says you can’t miss him ‘cause he is fine and prime.”
    The padded door opened, and Eve let out the breath she’d been holding. Even as she sucked in air, her ears were