conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled Indulgence in Death about Eve, Dallas, York with the genre: Mystery, Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Lt. Eve Dallas of the New York Police and Security Department returns home from a long overdue Irish vacation to a string of bizarre murders in the author's thrilling 32nd future cop novel (after Fantasy in Death). The crossbow killing of chauffeur Jamal Houston in his limo in a La Guardia parking lot is followed by the death of high-rent prostitute Ava Crampton, found at Coney Island's House of Horrors stabbed with a bayonet. Other victims include Luc Delaflote, a celebrity chef who's harpooned, and Adrianne Jonas, "a facilitator for the rich" strangled with a handmade bullwhip. Eve, assisted by her trustworthy sidekicks, Det. Delia Peabody and husband Roarke, uncovers a wicked game that grows increasingly macabre. the author (the pseudonym of Nora Roberts) keeps the reader squirming as Eve and company try to avoid dying in weird ways themselves. (Nov.) (c) <BR>Copyright &copy; PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first three paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Indulgence in Death
  Before it shut, she was contacting Whitney's office. She locked him in, then Reo, then moved onto Mira. If she'd had time, she'd have cheered when the temp came on-screen.
  Cutting the temp off, Eve shot Mira the report Peabody had written on Delaflote, the reports her other detectives had written on Jonas. She pushed through the ME's reports, the labs, the prelim from the sweepers.
  Twice she rose for more coffee, to check her time lines, to consult the computer on the time required to travel the distances from Dudley's home to each crime scene—on foot, and by transpo. She brought up her map, studied it, then confirmed with the computer the most direct routes to and from each.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Indulgence in Death
  Before it shut, she was contacting Whitney's office. She locked him in, then Reo, then moved onto Mira. If she'd had time, she'd have cheered when the temp came on-screen.
  Cutting the temp off, Eve shot Mira the report Peabody had written on Delaflote, the reports her other detectives had written on Jonas. She pushed through the ME's reports, the labs, the prelim from the sweepers.
  Twice she rose for more coffee, to check her time lines, to consult the computer on the time required to travel the distances from Dudley's home to each crime scene—on foot, and by transpo.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: She hissed out a breath, but at the end of it he saw the chip on her shoulder tumble off. "Okay, I would trust you, but I'd also have some concerns, worries, and dark thoughts. And you'd be sorry I did. You'd hate that I did."
  He had to touch her, just a skim of his fingertip down the little dent in her chin. "We hadn't quite got there, but since we've finished it here, I like to think we both have."
  The dress was short, simple, and black. But it came with a hip-skimming jacket that fastened up the front with a lot of fancy loops.
  They were hot murder red with heels that made her arches twinge when she looked at them. "How am I supposed to run in those?"
  She also wore black, young and funky, with a brightly striped sleeveless vest that covered her sidearm. With her hair done in crazed corkscrew curls, her eyes lined in emerald green, and her lips as red as Eve's shoes, Eve was forced to agree.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: "Okay, I would trust you, but I'd also have some concerns, worries, and dark thoughts. And you'd be sorry I did. You'd hate that I did."
  He had to touch her, just a skim of his fingertip down the little dent in her chin. "We hadn't quite got there, but since we've finished it here, I like to think we both have."
  The dress was short, simple, and black. But it came with a hip-skimming jacket that fastened up the front with a lot of fancy loops.
  They were hot murder red with heels that made her arches twinge when she looked at them. "How am I supposed to run in those?"
  She also wore black, young and funky, with a brightly striped sleeveless vest that covered her sidearm. With her hair done in crazed corkscrew curls, her eyes lined in emerald green, and her lips as red as Eve's shoes, Eve was forced to agree.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He surged to his feet, backhanding Redhead out of her chair when she tried to soothe him down again. "You have no right to touch my things. I pay you. You're nothing but a public servant. I own you."
  Behind her as Eve continued the litany of names and charges, Peabody opened the door for two uniforms. Because she'd already decked him once, Eve stepped aside when he charged and left it to the uniforms to restrain him.
  She kept walking, and as she passed Observation Roarke came out, fell into step with her. "Nice work, Lieutenant, for a temporary whore."
  He only nodded, and kept her hand in his as they looked at the board. "No more faces," he said. "Not tonight."
  He understood, she thought, that she'd needed to ensure that. And understood, as she did, there would be other faces on other nights.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the first sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: "You have no right to touch my things. I pay you. You're nothing but a public servant. I own you."
  Behind her as Eve continued the litany of names and charges, Peabody opened the door for two uniforms. Because she'd already decked him once, Eve stepped aside when he charged and left it to the uniforms to restrain him.
  She kept walking, and as she passed Observation Roarke came out, fell into step with her. "Nice work, Lieutenant, for a temporary whore."
  He only nodded, and kept her hand in his as they looked at the board. "No more faces," he said. "Not tonight."
  He understood, she thought, that she'd needed to ensure that. And understood, as she did, there would be other faces on other nights.