Page 82 of Thankless in Death

“He—I—God!” Taking a quick step back, she slapped a hand to her heart. “Oh my God! He was right here, and I worked with him for at least a half hour. Am I in trouble?”

“Why would you be?”

“I don’t know. I sold him all those products. It was a really nice commission. I even did the comp morph to show him how he could look after using everything.”

Now Eve smiled. “Can you still call that up?”

“I—Yes! I can. I think. I just feel so... Can I get some water? I feel a little shaky. He seemed so normal. Kind of clueless and trying to act like he knew all about it. Oh, oh, he bought a piercing kit, too. I forgot.”

Pausing just a moment, she fanned a hand in front of her face. “He bought the A Hole in One kit, and a gold hoop from accessories. I forgot.”

Sympathetic—and impressed with her memory—Eve tried to calm her. “No, you didn’t, and this helps us a lot. Get your water, Marsella, take a breath, then show us the morph.”

“Thanks. I feel kind of sick. Who did he kill?”

“His parents and his ex-girlfriend.”

Her exotic eyes filled. “Come on! Not really.”

“Really. Let’s move it, Marsella.”

“Okay. Okay.” She scrambled away, wobbling some on her towering heels.

“Good call on this place, Peabody.”

“Jackpot.”

“I can’t figure out why he didn’t spread his purchases out, other venues, the way he did for the clothes, the tools, the selling his loot.”

“Because you don’t get the lure.” On a lusty sigh, Peabody turned a little circle, scanning with eyes full of reverence and desire. “If I could afford it, I’d spend hours in here. I wouldn’t be able to walk out without loading up—especially if one of the servers started priming me. I couldn’t resist.”

“Huh.”

“The music’s all pumping, the lighting’s bold. Sexy energy. Lots of it. All these products just saying how mag you’d look if you bought them. All these totally iced servers—male and female—telling you the same. Drop a couple thousand, and walk out a whole new you, a better you.”

“And people buy that?”

“I’m buying it right now, and arguing with myself. I could get the lip dye. I’m not spending anything on travel for Thanksgiving. I have enough lip dye. But I don’t have this fabo, uptown, new lip dye. It costs too much. It’s a personal appearance investment. I—”

“Got it. Shut up. Go push the manager on those discs,” she ordered as Marsella came trotting back with a tablet.

“Malachi Golde! That’s his name. I remembered after I got some water, calmed down.”

“No, it’s not his name, but that’s the name he gave you?”

“Yes. I asked him, for the morph, and that’s what he said. We keep them for a week, in case the customer comes back, wants something else, or says something didn’t work.” She tapped her way through. “See! See! Here he is. We have to take an as-is shot, and this is as is.”

“Yeah.” Eve looked into Reinhold’s smug, smiling eyes. “That’s as is. Show me the morph.”

Marsella tapped again, turned the tablet. “If used properly and to full potential, he’d come out about like this. They’re not a hundred percent, but it gives a good representation.”

“I bet.” Eve studied the newly blond, blue-eyed, bronzed and pierced Reinhold.

“He bought the styling kit, but he was really vague on how he’d style the do. So I just had to go with the as-is do, new color and lights.”

“This is good, this is excellent. I need you to send it to me at this code, and I need a hard copy now.”

“Oh, sure. I can send right from the tab, but I have to look for the print. It’ll take a minute.”