“Your fault, sister. Be glad you’re not bleeding on the sidewalk.”
The first ad blimp of the day cruised over as she pushed through downtown traffic.
It hyped sales on beachwear, which made her think of sun-washed beaches in Greece.
“Told you you’d get through it,” she mumbled, thinking of the girl she’d been in the dream. “Told you you’d be okay. I didn’t tell you how one day between locking up bad guys you’d spend time in a villa in Greece.
“Life’s just weird.”
She got to the lab just before the change of shifts, and considered her best approach. She could hit Berenski—lab chief—and nag him about the makeup and the rest. But Dickhead was Dickhead for a reason, and she hadn’t thought of a bribe she might need.
She’d try Harvo first, and that would give her a good gauge on progress.
She found Harvo just settling in at her workstation. Her purple hair had a scatter of green highlights, maybe to match the purple low-tops with green laces. She’d continued the theme with purple pants and a green tee with a bright white 42 emblazoned on the back.
“Hey, Dallas, I figured you’d come in. We had a flood yesterday, but I got going on the hair, and I took the clothes.”
“Thought you might. Got anything?”
“Still running, but I can tell you her hair was cut within twelve of time of death. Fresh snips, both with scissors and a razor. Shampoo and conditioner under the styling gel and setting spray. You’ll want the brands there, so I’ve got that going. She used a lightener, and highlights, but hadn’t had that done in about two weeks.”
On her rolling stool, she zipped to the other end of her station.
“I can tell you the jeans are Hot Shot brand, Diva series, ultra-low-rise in size four. And I can tell you they discontinued the Diva series in 2015. The Hot Shot brand—definitely low-rent—went under altogether in 2024. I can tell you the jeans had been washed, using Keep It Green organic detergent.”
“So you can tell me a lot.”
“Oh, I got more. The top, polyester blend, Sexy Lady brand—and that’s a store brand, or was, from 2002 to 2006, when they went under after the owner shot her lover and the sexy lady he had on the side who happened to be her sister, and Lover Boy’s first ex-wife. It was a pretty big scandal in Greenville, Tennessee, in 2005. Single shop,” Harvo added. “Strip mall about twenty-five miles south of Nashville.”
“Tennessee.”
“Had to be bought there originally, and in the way back. A lot more recently, somebody repaired the loose sequins, sewed them back in place. I’ve got the data on the thread for you, but it’s standard. Better workmanship on the repairs than the original.”
“He knows how to sew.”
“Gotta say yeah there. Also gotta say there are thrift stores all over hell and back where you could find these articles. Maybe your grandma’s attic, too, but once he had them, he took care of them. The black ribbon,” she continued. “Velvet, black, any good craft or fabric store.”
“Tennessee,” Eve repeated. “It’s a long way from there to here.”
“Yeah, but that top made the journey.”
Something let out a tuneful series of beeps.
“That’s my girl!” Harvo zipped back to the other end of her counter. “Display it, baby. So here we go. Shampoo’s Pearl Drops, Ocean Breeze scent, same with the conditioner. That’s a drugstore type brand, and been around since the late twentieth. Styling gel, same era, Lowell’s brand, Super Hold, and same brand on the setting spray.”
Harvo spun her chair around to face Eve. “Decent, affordable, and widely available. Nothing special there, sorry.”
“Everything adds. How about the shoes?”
“Dezi the newlywed’s got the shoes. I got a gander, and he’ll give you more, but I’m gonna say the way back, like the jeans and top. Not designer level, either.”
“I’ll check with him. Who’s got the makeup?”
“That would be my man Dawber. I know he got started on it yesterday. Listen, I got a need for the fizz. His cave’s on the way to Vending, so I’ll bop you over.”
“Appreciate it. I didn’t know you were a baseball fan.”
“Not really.” Obviously baffled, Harvo cocked her head. “Why?”
“Forty-two.” Eve pointed at Harvo’s shirt. “Jackie Robinson’s number.”
“Oh, forty-two. No, man, forty-two’s the answer to all the questions in the universe. Hitchhiker’s Guide.”