Celebrity in Death

5

Nadine slapped her purse on the table, opened it, and pulled out a number of cocktail napkins. “Look what I’m reduced to. Scribbling with a pen on cocktail napkins. I told McNab I wouldn’t use the PPC to contact anyone.”

“And if he’d listened to you, I’d have busted him down to Traffic. Tell me this first—and this time it’s official and on record—are you and Julian Cross bumping nasties?”

“You have such a way. No, as I already told you, we’re not. He’s gorgeous, charming, fun. He’s rich, he’s famous. I figured we’d give that area a go. But he’s also just a bit dim. It’s kind of cute, but I like a man with some smarts. Plus, he’d bump nasties with anyone, anytime, anywhere. And I prefer someone more selective. He’s not pushy about it, the bumping or the polite refusal to bump. I enjoy him, but I don’t want to sleep with him. Unfortunately.

“Added to it,” she went on, “the promotion machine is pumping out that there’s heat between Marlo and Julian on- and offscreen. It’s a time-honored publicity angle. It seems to be working well enough, even though there’s just warm between them offscreen—as in friendship.”

“And because Marlo and Matthew have the offscreen heat.”

“They what? They do not. Do they?” Nadine shoved at her hair as she stared at Eve. “Where did you get that? I didn’t get that.”

“It’s my take.” Eve shrugged. “You’ll have to talk to them about it.”

“Shit. Shit.” Nadine pulled a pen out of the purse, scribbled on one of the napkins.

“Meanwhile,” Eve said mildly, “you’ve spent a lot of time on the set. Who’d want to kill K.T.?”

“Is homicide confirmed?”

“No. But.”

“Okay, my answer is who wouldn’t? I’ve been tempted to smash her over the head and drown her myself. Is that what happened?”

“No comment. Why?”

“Fine. Because she’s a bitch. Down to the bone, if you ask me. Selfish, whining, rude. She sulks, she explodes, she snaps, she snarks. She considered herself the superior actor on this project, and made that known at every opportunity. She came at me more than once about the Peabody character, wanting changes, more screen time. She wanted a love scene with Matthew, and pushed—hard—to have her character confront Dallas on investigative points. None of what she wanted worked, but Roundtree, Valerie, Steinburger, Preston—or some unfortunate assistant—had to deal with her nearly every day. She slowed production, and that displeases the suits.”

“Anything specific? Did you ever see her go at it with anyone?”

“Dallas, she went at it with everyone at some point or other. Then she’d settle down for a few days, and go at someone else.”

“All right, let’s focus on tonight. Besides her pissiness at dinner, did you see her argue with anyone else?”

“She argued with me.” Nadine examined the cookies, carefully selected one, then took a tiny bite.

“About?” Eve prompted.

“She only has a couple short scenes left, and wanted them both expanded. Insisted I need to sit down with Roundtree and work that out, using the changes she’d made to the scenes. I told her, as I had before, that the way she wanted to change it didn’t happen. She told me, as she had before, I didn’t understand the business or artistic license. I told her to write her own book, her own script, and leave mine alone. But not that politely.”

“Were you up on the roof tonight?”

Nadine smirked. “No, not tonight.”

“Did she get into it with anyone else?”

“I imagine she and Connie had words when Connie took her out of the room after dinner. And she had a couple with Andi. K.T. was way out of her league there and knew it, so she tended to keep those words short. I noticed she cornered Preston shortly before dinner, and he didn’t look happy about it. Otherwise, I admit, I wasn’t paying much attention to her.”

“How about during the gag reel thing. Did you notice her leaving the theater?”

“I didn’t. She sat in the back, if I remember right, and I sat down next to Andi because she’s always got the best things to say. Plus Julian was pretty drunk by that time, and sulking, so I didn’t want to sit with him. Then just a few minutes into it I got a tag on the ’link. We’re setting up the on-location show in Dallas, the interviews with the Jones twins. I had to take it, so I stepped out, went into the little sitting room down there. I was on with my producer and director for ten minutes or so. When I came back I just sat in the back until …

“She wasn’t there. K.T.,” Nadine said, squinting as if trying to see. “I glanced around before I took a seat, making sure I didn’t sit too close to her, and she wasn’t back there. I assumed she’d changed seats, but I guess not. She must have gone out. She might’ve gone out before I did. I didn’t notice either way. Sorry.”

“Did you notice anyone else missing?”

“I didn’t, and I popped out to use the restroom the minute the lights came up. It seemed like everyone was in there, or around there, when I came back a couple minutes later. Except for K.T., but I only noticed she wasn’t there because I wanted to avoid another chat with her.”

“Okay, what was the mood in the other room while everyone’s waiting to talk to me or Peabody?”

“Shock, upset, nerves. Everybody’s nervous when there’s a dead body and a cop in the house, Dallas. Roundtree pacing and brooding, Connie trying to keep everyone calm, Julian passed out drunk, Matthew and Marlo huddled together—which I took as bonding over finding a body—and looking sick. Andi entertaining Dennis Mira or telling Connie to sit down and relax. Steinburger huddled with Valerie—which is SOP—or bitching about McNab taking his electronics—to which I related. Preston talking to Roundtree or me or Steinburger or staring into his beer. It was stilted, awkward, nerve-racking, and difficult. Everyone believes, or wants to believe, it was a terrible accident, and no one’s sure.”

Peabody started in, stopped when she saw Nadine. “Ah. Can I have a minute, Lieutenant?”

“That’s all I need for now, Nadine. You can wait in the living area. We’ll return your electronics shortly.”

“Come on, Dallas. You said I’d have the story.”

“And you will. But I need a minute with my partner.”

“Fine. I’m taking the cookies.”

Sadly, Peabody watched the cookies leave with Nadine. “They looked good.”

“They were. Report?”

“We’ve got all the statements. McNab made a copy for your review and file.” She passed Eve a disc. “It’s got nothing that puts a blinking GUILTY arrow over anybody’s head. The only one who seemed genuinely sad was Roundtree. I don’t think he liked her, but he didn’t not like her as much as everybody else seemed to. The sweepers are wrapping it up. There was blood.”

Eve looked up sharply from her notes. “Where?”

“They picked it up with the lights on the skirt of the pool. A small amount on the coping. It may have been washed off, or may have washed away with the water when the body was pulled out—but since they also found what appears to be the charred remains of some sort of cloth in the fireplace up there, I’m voting for washed off.”

“Two votes.”

“The morgue team confirmed both contusion and laceration on the back of the vic’s head, and that it would have bled some. It’s her prints on the bottle we found on the bar up there—contents of which will be confirmed by the lab—and on the corkscrew. They’ll also run DNA on the cigarette butts, but the brand matches what she had in the case in her bag. It held twelve. She had two left. Marlo’s and Matthew’s prints on the glasses outside the dome.”

“Okay. Let’s take Julian. Give me a minute to feed some of this to Nadine and get her out of here.”

She turned to Roarke. “Do you want to hang in here for the last interview?”

“Darling, I wouldn’t miss you interrogating my counterpart for worlds.”

“Hah. Peabody, go ahead and get him in here. Read him his rights, get him settled. I won’t be long.”

She separated Nadine from Roundtree and Connie while Peabody took a reasonably sober Julian into the dining room.

“The way it looks she hit her head on the pool skirting, either fell or had help. Could have fallen in. Or tried to get up, drunk and dizzy from the fall, gone in. I’ll know more of that after the ME’s had a look at her.”

“That’s it?”

“That is it, at this point. If she had help, I’ve got statements, interviews, impressions, and a basic time line. If it was an accident, I have the same and we can close it down. But for now it remains undetermined—and either way, I need you to wait thirty minutes before you call it in and start the machine. I want Julian’s statement on record, and him tucked into his place before the frenzy.”

“What difference does—”

“Nadine, if I didn’t trust you’d wait the thirty because I tell you I need it, you’d be held here, without your e-toys until. But I do trust you’ll wait.”

“Understood.” Nadine sighed it out. “Appreciated. If I didn’t believe you wouldn’t screw with me just because, I’d have found a way to get to a ’link before this and had the story out by now.”

“Also understood and appreciated.”

“There’s one more reason I opted against sleeping with Julian.”

“Okay.”

“He’s not like Roarke, but he gives the illusion of being a lot like him when he’s in the mode. So the idea of sleeping with him felt disloyal—and just, well, icky.”

Eve started to laugh it off, then realized Nadine was perfectly serious. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“All right, not completely understood, but appreciated anyway.”

“I hear he bangs like a turbohammer.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t like Roarke.”

“Oh, that was cruel. Maybe I’ll give him a spin after all.” Nadine fluffed back her hair. “I’m going to say good night to Roundtree and Connie. I’ve got my car service, so if you’re done with the Miras I can give them a lift home.”

“And pump her for impressions.”

“Naturally.” Nadine gave one of her strands of pearls a quick twirl. “But I’d give them a lift anyway.”

“Yeah, you would. They can leave anytime.”

When she returned to the dining room, Julian was slumped, pale and obviously miserable, over a cup of coffee.

“You’ve been read your rights?” Eve began.

“Yes. She said it was for my protection.”

“That’s exactly right.” Eve took a seat across from him. “Do you know what happened?”

“What?”

“You know Marlo and Matthew found K.T.’s body on the roof.”

“Yes.” He shook his head as if coming out of a dream. “God. God! It’s horrible. I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re doing it right now by talking to us. Were you up on the roof tonight, Julian?”

“No—I mean, yes.” He sent Eve a pitiful look. “I’m confused. I had too much to drink. I shouldn’t have, but I was upset after that scene at dinner. I want you to know I wasn’t—I’d never try to, ah, start something with you, and right in front of you,” he said, appealing to Roarke.

“But you would in back of me?”

Julian actually went a shade paler. “I didn’t mean—”

“Just winding you up, mate,” Roarke said, smile very, very cool.

“Oh. Okay, I wouldn’t want you to think I’d hit on your wife. She’s fascinating—I mean to say I’m kind of fascinated, and playing you, it gets intense with Marlo. But I—and Marlo and I aren’t—not really. Just for work, for show. It’s just part of the deal. I mean, I would—they’re both beautiful women, but—”

“Is that a requirement?” Eve asked. “Being beautiful.”

“All women are beautiful,” he said and smiled for the first time.

“Including K.T.?”

“Sure. Well, she could be.”

“And did the two of you start something?”

“Not recently.”

“What would be ‘not recently’?”

“Oh, well, a couple of years ago, I guess. We had a little fun. And a couple months ago. She was feeling down, so I cheered her up.”

“Did she want more cheering up?”

He shifted, stared hard at his coffee. “The thing is, she didn’t really want that. She really wanted to complain about Marlo, or to get me to complain about her—Marlo, I mean—to Roundtree.”

He looked up then, met Eve’s eyes with his own dull, bloodshot blue. “I wasn’t going to do that. She got bent over it, really hammered at me. I finally went to Joel and asked him to get her off my back. I didn’t like to do it, but she was really putting me off, and screwing with my focus. I guess it just bent her more. I don’t know why she has to be that way.”

He looked away again, shook his head. “I don’t understand why people can’t just be nice, have a good time.”

“Why did you go up to the roof tonight?”

His gaze dropped again. “The view’s mag.”

“Were you alone with the mag view?”

He said nothing for a long moment. Peabody reached over, touched his arm, spoke gently. “Julian?”

He looked at her. “She didn’t really look like you when she wasn’t made up. You have a prettier mouth, and your eyes are nicer. I like your eyes better.”

“Thanks.”

Though Eve saw Peabody’s color come up, her partner maintained.

“Who was on the roof with you tonight?” Peabody asked him.

“When I went up, she—K.T. was there. I didn’t want to talk to her, not when she was in that mood. We’d both been drinking. I didn’t want to talk to her.”

“But you did?”

“A little. I asked her why she’d acted that way at dinner. Connie went to all this trouble. It was our job to be friendly, to make sure all of you had a good time. But she just started up about Marlo, you, Matthew, everybody. I didn’t want to be around her, so I came back downstairs.”

“You argued,” Eve prompted.

“I don’t like to argue.”

“But she did.”

“It’s like she just can’t be happy. I don’t get that when there’s so much to be happy about. Look what we get to do for a living. Yeah, sometimes it’s hard, but mostly it’s just fun. And they pay us a lot of money. Everything’s easier, it’s better when you let yourself be happy. It’s like she can’t.

“Do you have a blocker?” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Sober-Up always gives me a headache, a hangover, and makes me feel kind of dull. I don’t get like that if I just sleep it off. That’s what I was trying to do, just sleep it off.”

Roarke took a small case out of his pocket, offered one of the tiny blue pills.

“Thanks.” Julian smiled at Roarke. “I feel like crap.”

“When were you on the roof with K.T.?” Eve asked him.

“Tonight.”

Eve thought Nadine’s assessment of Julian being a little dim hit bull’s-eye. “What time?”

“Oh. I don’t know. I’d been drinking, and … after dinner. I know it was after dinner.”

“Did you watch the gag reel?”

He stared off into space, brow furrowed. “Sort of. I want to see it again, when I can focus. I just couldn’t. I guess I went up for some air before I watched, then I couldn’t focus anyway. I was falling asleep, so I went out and lay down on the couch.”

“When you came down, K.T. was still on the roof?”

“Yeah. She was still there.”

“Did you see anyone else go up?”

“I didn’t see anyone go up. I wanted to lie down, but Roundtree wanted us in the theater.” His gaze tracked back to Eve. “Are you sure she’s dead?”

“Yes, very sure.”

“It doesn’t seem real. It doesn’t feel real. Did you tell me how she died? I can’t remember. Everything’s mixed up.”

“It appears as if she drowned.”

“She drowned?” Julian dropped his head in his hands. “She drowned.” He shuddered. “K.T. drowned. Because she was drunk, and she fell in the lap pool?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Because she was drunk,” he repeated, “and she fell in the lap pool, and she drowned. God. It’s horrible.”

He lifted his head when Peabody came back with a glass of water.

“Thanks.” He laid a hand over Peabody’s. “I wish this hadn’t happened. I wish she’d never gone up on the roof. She wouldn’t let herself be happy. Now she never will be.”

She had Peabody take him out, and sat where she was a moment, sorting through her thoughts. Roarke shifted chairs to sit across from her.

Odd, she thought, really odd to have him in the same chair that Julian just vacated. Odd how clearly she could see the differences between them. The body language, the clarity of eye, the stillness—and the ease of being still.

“He’s a bit of a gobdaw, isn’t he?”

“I couldn’t say. What the hell is a gobdaw?”

“Slow-witted. I don’t think it’s just the drink or the abrupt sobering.”

“Not entirely. Gobdaw.” She shook her head at the term. “Even gob-daws kill.”

“He strikes me as more the harmless sort.”

“Even them. But he’s the only one, so far, who’s admitted to being up there, with her. Could be the gobdaw in him, or the harmless. Or just honest innocence. He goes up, thinks, ‘Hell, I’m not dealing with her again,’ staggers back down. Someone else goes up and does the deal with her. Or she stumbled on her stilts and deals with herself.”

“Roundtree finally talked Connie into taking a soother and going to bed,” Peabody announced as she came back in.

“Probably a good thing,” Eve decided. “I don’t need her—or him—anymore tonight.”

“What do you need?” Roarke asked her.

“To go home, I guess, and let this work through in my head. It’s rare to interview so many witnesses/suspects in one lump. We’re witnesses, too, and right now I feel like a lousy one.”

“Because you can’t zero in on the killer—if indeed there is a killer—almost before the body reaches the morgue?”

“We were right here.”

“I keep going over and over it.” Peabody blew out a breath. “Asking myself did I see, even sense, somebody sneaking out, sneaking in. But I was so into the show. It was funny and so iced. I remember different people calling out some remark, but can’t pinpoint the timing. Mostly it was just a lot of laughing or good-natured groaning. I’ve got nothing.”

“We’ll sort it out.” Eve got to her feet, wobbled a little. “I forgot I had these damn things on.” She scowled down at her shoes. “I’m going to make sure the sweepers blocked off the roof access.”

“They did,” Peabody assured her. “I already checked.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

“Ride with us,” Roarke invited. “The car can take you downtown once it drops us home.”

“Oh, boy, thanks. Limo ride! You know, if you take out the chunk where there’s a dead body and a couple hours of interviews, this was a mag evening.”

Eve stripped off the shoes the minute she stepped in the house. And winced. “Why do they hurt more when I take them off than when I have them on? Harris probably did a header into the pool on purpose because her feet were already killing her.”

Roarke scooped her off her aching feet. “You earned a ride.”

“I’ll take it,” she decided as he was already carrying her up the stairs. “You know it’s about fifty-fifty, murder or accidental death.”

“That sounds about right.”

“But it wasn’t an accident.”

“Because?”

“She was asking for an ass-whooping, and too many people who were there had reason to give her one. Blood on the pool skirt, which, yeah, could mean, she fell, got up, fell again—didn’t get up. Dinged-up shoe heels—the one in the pool had dings, too, and a broken strap. Could’ve maybe happened in a fall. And traces of a burned rag in the fireplace.

“The vic pisses everybody off, causes a potentially ugly scene at dinner in front of what I’d call civilians—us.”

“It’s nice to have company in my civilian status for a change,” Roarke commented and carried her straight up onto the platform, dumped her on the lake-sized bed.

“Then she goes up to the roof and conveniently drowns.”

“Convenient would be relative.” He picked up her feet, set them in his lap. “Drowning with the cleverest of murder cops on the premises wouldn’t be convenient for the killer.”

“Sure it would. It …” She trailed off to a low, happy groan as he began massaging her foot. “Oh, that’s good, really good.” She nearly purred when his knuckles pressed on her arches. “And you’re getting so much sex.”

“Always my plan. Consider this foreplay.”

“Who wouldn’t? Anyway, it has that clever murder cop looking at everyone in the same place, at the same time—while everybody who didn’t kill her is trying to think straight enough to remember where they were, what they were doing when. And what everybody but the vic and killer was doing was sitting in a dark theater for a good forty minutes.”

“Focused on themselves.”

“Exactly. Nadine gets tagged, but she takes herself and her ’link off to a private area, and is too distracted to notice if anybody left or came in. Nobody mentioned seeing her go out, not even Andrea, and Nadine had been sitting beside her. We’re in the front, so we wouldn’t see any traffic behind us.”

“And it’s very likely none of them believe any of the others are capable. Everyone who didn’t kill her believes, or wants to believe, it was an accident.”

“Add in they’re united in their dislike of her, and their commitment to the project. It’s always smart to kill in a crowd if you can blend in.”

As he started the same treatment on her other foot, she sighed. “You know that almost—almost—makes it worth wearing those ankle breakers.”

“I figure I owe you as I had the pleasure of enjoying your legs and ass while you did.”

“Business question.”

“All right.”

“When this breaks, which with Nadine leading the charge it already has, how will it affect the project?”

Interesting, he thought, to be discussing murder with his cop while she lay on the bed in her finery. Their life was nothing if not interesting.

“Spun right—and it will be—it’ll power up interest and anticipation. They’ve just been handed a lorry-load of free publicity. An actual murder while producing a major vid about murder? The real-life cop the vid centers on investigating same. It’s a bloody bonanza.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I see your motive angle, Lieutenant, but it seems a bit extreme to do murder for some media buzz, especially when they’ve already been buzzing.”

“But it’s a nice side benefit. I’m going to think about it. But now I think you should get me out of this dress.”

“I’ve been considering my method on that.”

“I’m pretty sure you just yank the zipper down.”

He smiled, gave her calves a series of squeezes that made their muscles sing. “Over you go then.”

She flopped onto her belly. “Roundtree knew the timing, just how long he could be out of the room. But I feel like I would’ve noticed him leaving. He was up front. Connie knew the timing, and did leave the room by her own admission. I bet Preston had not only seen the reel before, but probably helped edit it together. If this was planned—” She lost her train of thought for a moment when his lips replaced his hands on her calves, and felt even better.

“They’re top candidates. Steinburger and Valerie—they may very well have had that time down, too—and any one of them would know the value of murder and spin.”

He worked his way up to her thighs, warm lips, a tease of tongue.

“And any of the actors could have slipped out,” she murmured as part of her mind began a lovely, lazy drift.

“How would they know she’d be on the roof?”

“The killer could have arranged to meet her there. Or …” The zipper eased down fraction by fraction as his mouth continued to play her. “Or she arranged to meet the killer, which would lean toward impulse killing or crime of passion. Or … I can’t think when you’re doing that.”

“You’ll have to give thinking a pass then, as I’ve no intention of stopping.” He slid the narrow triangle of panties down her hips.

With his mouth at the small of her back, he slid his fingers into her.

Her hands curled into the sheets. “I’m still in the dress.”

“Only parts of you. You’re hot and wet. Soft and smooth.”

The orgasm rolled through her, one extended, luxurious swell that left her steeped in pleasure. He gave himself the delight of her back, long and lean under the sparkle of diamonds, to the curve of muscle in her shoulders, her arms. And back to the heat again so she cried out when the fire took her.

He turned her over, peeled away the dress.

“You’re still wearing a suit.”

He leaned down, circled her nipple with his tongue. “Give me a hand with the tie, would you?”

“You’re making me crazy,” she managed as she struggled to loosen the tie, tug it off.

“Still no intention of stopping.” But he shrugged out of his jacket as he feasted lazily on her breasts. “You look like a pagan. A pagan warrior queen.” He scraped his teeth along her throat. “Naked, glowing, wearing nothing but ropes of diamonds.”

“I want you inside me.” Breath tearing, she bit at his ear. “Hot, hard inside me.”

“My hands are busy at the moment.” He filled them with her breasts. “I’ll need help getting out of this shirt.”

She reached up, tore it open, sending buttons flying.

“Well, that’s one way.”

“It’s how it works when you’re a pagan warrior queen. Take me.” She gripped his hair, yanked his mouth to hers. “I want you to take me like there’s nothing you need more.”

“There isn’t. It’s you. It’s always you.”

But he eased back to deal with the rest of his clothes and used his eyes on her as effectively as he had his hands.

“Everything in me skips and scrambles when you look at me like that.”

“You’re mine.” And that brought him something beyond excitement, something deeper than passion. “You’re mine,” he said again.

And when she lifted her arms to him, brought him to her, chained him to her, he took her as if there was nothing he needed more.