
One of them was showing Renne and Tarlo in: Catriona Saleeb, a small twenty-two-year-old, with long
curly black hair, wearing a simple green dress with strong geometric lilac stripes-except Renne knew the
dress was a Fon, which put its price tag over a thousand Earth dollars, and the girl was using it as a
casual housedress. Renne's e-butler printed up Saleeb's file in her virtual vision; she was a junior member
of the Morishi Grand Family, working at a bank in Daroca's large financial district.
Her two friends were Trisha Marina Halgarth, who had a product placement job at Veccdale, a
Halgarth subsidiary that designed chic domestic systems, and Isabella Halgarth, who'd taken a job at a
contemporary art gallery in town. They fitted the whole profile: three bachelorettes sharing a place in the
city, having fun together while they waited for their true careers to launch, or husbands of equal wealth
and status to materialize and carry them off to a merged trust fund mansion to produce their contracted
quota of children.
“This is one great place you've got here,” Tarlo said as they made their way into the lounge.
Catriona turned and gave him a smile that was a lot more than simple politeness. “Thanks, it's a family
place so we get it cheap.”
“Plenty of wild parties, huh.”
Her smile became teasing. “Maybe.”
Renne shot him an exasperated look; they were supposed to be on duty, not hitting on potential
witnesses. He just grinned back, perfect white teeth gleaming out of his handsome tanned face. She'd
seen for herself just how successful that grin could be in the clubs and bars around Paris.
Catriona took them over to the kitchen section, which was separated from the living room by a broad
marble-topped breakfast bar. The kitchen was ultramodern, equipped with every convenience gadget
possible, all built in to swan-white egg-shaped wall modules. Somehow, Renne couldn't imagine it being
used for much actual cooking, not even by the complicated-looking chefbots.
The two other girls were sitting on stools at the bar.
“Trisha Marina Halgarth?” Renne asked.
“That's me.” One of the girls got to her feet. She had a heart-shaped face and light olive skin with small,
dark green butterfly-wing OCtattoos flowing back from each hazel eye. She wore an oversize white
toweling robe like defensive armor; she kept clutching at the fluffy fabric, pulling it tighter around her.
Her bare feet had silver rings around each toe.
“We're from navy intelligence,” Tarlo said. “Lieutenant Kampasa and I are investigating what happened
to you.”
“You mean, how gullible I was,” she snapped.
“Easy, babe,” Isabella Halgarth said. Her arm went around Trisha's shoulders. “These are the good
guys.” She stood to face the investigators.
Renne found herself having to look up slightly; Isabella was several centimeters taller than she, almost
Tarlo's height. She was dressed in very tight jeans that showed off her legs. Her long blond hair had
been gathered into a single tail that reached down to her hips. It was an image of casual elegance.
Tarlo's grin had broadened. Renne wanted to push him against a wall and shout a warning about
professional conduct, wagging her finger in his face for emphasis. Instead, she did her best to ignore the
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