Secrets in Death Page 14

  “Squeezing me,” she replied.

  “Killing, killing like this particularly—planned, cool enough to kill in a public place—takes a certain mind-set. Once you have that mind-set, it’s easier to have it again. If you dig up anything, you tell me, or you risk putting not just yourself but whoever has the shovel in danger.”

  “Damn it.” Nadine pushed to her feet, walked over to a friggie, yanked out a water bottle. “Damn it. I know you’re right, but it’s not a snap, Dallas. I didn’t give two hot fucks about Larinda, but when I said ‘our family’? That’s absolute truth. A lot of people here are family to me.”

  “And if one of them’s a killer, he needs to pay for it. He made a choice.” Eve rose. “If you feel you can’t do the digging or ask anyone here to do it with you, that’s your choice. I won’t hold it against you.”

  “You went after cops—and that’s your family—when they crossed the line.”

  “That was my choice.”

  Nodding, Nadine took a long, slow sip of water. She paced a moment, sipping again, weighing it all.

  “I’m in,” she said firmly. “I’m in because I can’t not be. It may give me some bad moments, but I’m all in. And yes, if I find something that points to someone here, as much as it grates, I’ll tell you.”

  Lowering the bottle, she heaved out a breath. “I can’t say I hated her guts. I didn’t care enough to hate her guts, and maybe that’s harsher in a way. But I care plenty about doing my job, and what’s right about my job, to do this.”

  “Figured. Watch your six.”

  Now Nadine smiled. “I wonder what happened to the delicious young Bruno. Anyway, I’ll watch my six.”

  “Good. I’ve got work.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  10

  Eve intended to deal with Mars’s office first. As she rounded the corner, she saw Peabody standing in the corridor admiring her newly painted face in a little hand mirror.

  “Put that damn thing away.”

  Peabody batted newly lushed and darkened lashes. “But I look so pretty.”

  “We’ll see how pretty you look after I pop you in one of your Trina’d eyes.”

  Unabashed, Peabody batted them again. “We went subtle with Baby Fawn on the lids, and a touch of Mocha in the crease. But I really love the Forest Shadows liner.” Peabody risked one more peek before the mirror disappeared into a pocket. “Besides, I used my time wisely, and after Trina told me about Annie Knight, I had her tap her associate who’s in makeup at Knight at Night for Knight’s schedule. She’s slated to be in her studio and offices all day.”

  “Add her to our list.” Eve turned to the sealed door. “And let’s track down Wylee Stamford.”

  “Is he one of Mars’s marks? Entertainment again?”

  Truly stunned, Eve turned back around. “Jesus, Peabody, sports. Mets. Third baseman. King of the double play.”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah. He’s the one with the really cute butt. Well, a lot of them have cute butts. It’s the uniforms, maybe.”

  “I die a little,” Eve grumbled, starting to unseal the door again.

  “Hold on. Mitch L. Day’s heading this way.”

  Eve glanced over. He rang a bell now—she’d seen that classic golden-boy face with its dazzling smile splashed across maxibuses.

  He shot her one now, then toned it down—as efficiently as a dimmer switch—as he stepped up to her and Peabody.

  “Ladies, I’m sorry, but if you had an appointment with Larinda…”

  Eve simply took out her badge.

  The dimmed smile vanished. Lights out.

  “I see. I’ll leave you to your business.”

  “You’re part of that business. We have some questions for you.”

  “I’m afraid I’m very busy.”

  “Wow, me, too.” Eve added a smile of her own—on the feral side. “We can always coordinate our busy schedules and arrange for you to come down to Central to answer those questions.”

  “I simply don’t see the need—”

  “I do, and I’ve got the badge. We can talk right here about your adulterous, sexual relationship with the deceased, or we could discuss it in your office.”

  His eyes, a smoky blue-gray, hardened, and the faintest flush—anger or embarrassment—rose to his cheeks. “If you insist.”

  “It happens I do.”

  He turned and walked into the office opposite.

  Eve supposed he fit the physical mode for screen personalities. He hit about six feet with a trim build that showed off well in the upscale casual look of a dark gray leather jacket over a silky T-shirt a few shades bluer than his eyes.

  His hair, a wavy golden mane, flowed around a sharply chiseled face with the added charm of dimples that dipped into his cheeks when he flashed the megawatt smile.

  A build that hit in the parameters of the third man leaving the bar, Eve calculated. And a dark watch cap would cover that gilded mane.

  He shut the door to his office—though the term didn’t really fit, as the room lacked a desk. Instead it held an expansive black leather sofa, a long table in zebra stripes, a massive entertainment screen, a full bar, and an alcove holding rolling racks of clothes and a triple full-length mirror.

  “I’ve just finished shooting bumpers for today’s show,” he began, “and have to be on set in thirty, so I hope this won’t take long. We’re all having a difficult day around here, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

  “I’m sure you are. Larinda Mars had a difficult day yesterday.”

  He looked away, seeming to study a large framed poster of himself that showcased his chiseled looks and dazzling smile. “I still can’t comprehend it, but that’s no excuse for my lack of manners. Please, sit. How can I help?”

  He arranged himself—really, Eve could think of no other term for the way he sat, crossed one foot over his knee, leaned forward.

  “How long had you and Ms. Mars been sexually involved?”

  “That sounds so … clinical, so careless.” His face seemed to open—a little distress, a dash of sorrow, a whole boatload of earnest.

  Eve didn’t trust any of it.

  “Larinda and I have been—were—friends for a long time.” He used his hands for emphasis, lifting well-manicured fingers off his thighs, spreading them, palms outstretched. “We had so much in common, enjoyed each other’s company. The friendship grew into more, a gradual thing neither of us anticipated. From there, we slipped into a romance.”

  “Slipped into it? Like on an ice patch?”

  The flush returned as he jerked back. “Please, Officer—”

  “Lieutenant. Lieutenant Dallas.”

  “My feelings for Larinda, and hers for me…” Now his gaze sharpened on Eve’s face. “Dallas? The Icove Agenda’s Dallas? Marlo Durn’s Dallas?’

  “The NYPSD’s Dallas.”

  The smile flashed back, along with the dimples, so his whole face lit with fascinated interest. “I’m campaigning to have you and Marlo on Second Cup before the Oscars. I’d love to build an entire hour around the two of you.”

  Eve simply stared. “Are you serious right now?”

  “I’m sure Nadine would join us. It would be an amazing show.”

  “Maybe Mars can report on it, on her show, from—you know—beyond the grave.”

  “I—” He caught himself, bowed his head slightly. “I’m sorry. It’s so careless of me, just thoughtless. It’s that I live and breathe Second Cup, and am always focused on what I can bring my loyal viewers.”

  “Right. How did your wife feel about you slipping?”

  “Sashay and I…” He trailed off again, a habit, Eve decided. He sighed, long and heartfelt. “The demands of our individual careers took a toll on the marriage. So often we were dealing with our own pursuits and agendas. It’s very difficult when a marriage begins to fail, and I’m afraid we were at odds more than in tune, even as we struggled to make it work. But … it became clear what had begun so hopefully couldn’t last.
I admit I found solace during that difficult time with Larinda. You can say I was weak, and yet—” That sigh again. “I found some happiness.”

  When someone shoveled bullshit by the ton, Eve thought, it was hard to keep your boots out of the muck. But she had plenty of experience, and just kept her tone conversational.

  “You found some happiness banging a coworker while still married to someone else?”

  The smile didn’t just dim. His whole face went classically prudish. “I don’t appreciate the crudeness. There was much more between Larinda and me than the physical.”

  “How about Monicka Poole? Was there more there than the physical?”

  The flush rose, this time with a hint of fear flickering in his eyes. “I’m afraid you have some bad information. Monicka misunderstood my affection and generosity.”

  He stopped, and when Eve said nothing, letting silence pull him deeper, he cleared his throat and continued, “She’s young, you see? Impressionable, even a bit … needy,” he added. “Her misinterpretation is somewhat understandable, and I take partial responsibility for not seeing how she … But when she, I’m sorry to say, threw herself at me, made inappropriate demands and overtures, I had to let her go.”

  “You’re denying a sexual relationship with her?”

  “Absolutely.” His eyes widened, and Eve decided she’d rarely seen anyone lie so poorly. “Not only does Seventy-Five have very clear rules and guidelines regarding sexual overtures with subordinates, but I have my own ethics. Rumors run rampant in my world, Lieutenant, but I will put my reputation and behavior against rumors always.”

  He might coat himself in outrage, Eve thought, but it didn’t fit him well. “Uh-huh. Where were you yesterday evening—from six to seven o’clock?”

  He lifted his head, actually tossed his mane of hair. “You would dare to insinuate I killed Larinda?”

  No, outrage didn’t fit him, but that touch of fear worked. “Peabody, would I dare?”

  “Yes, sir, you totally would.”

  “Even so, I didn’t hear any insinuation. I heard a question. Should I repeat it?”

  “I believe I’ll contact my attorney!”

  “You go ahead.” Eve rose. “He can meet you at Central. Peabody, see if Interview A’s available.”

  Adding grief to the outrage, Day laid a hand over his heart. “Do you understand I’ve lost a friend?”

  “Then cooperate with the investigation looking into who took her life.”

  “I was at home.” He sat back now, crossing his arms defiantly.

  “Alone?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Jesus. Do you want to go around this again?” She pulled out her badge, held it six inches from his face. “This is my business. Keep dancing, Day, and you’re going to end up my prime suspect. You’ve already lied about Poole, and that could come back to bite you in the ass. Whereabouts, six to seven P.M. yesterday. Bullshit me again, and I’m hauling your ass in for obstruction and all-around dickishness.”

  “I’ve never harmed anyone in my life! I was home, from five to eight-thirty. And I was on my way out to meet Larinda. We had a nine o’clock reservation at Divine.”

  The words tumbled out of him now, and had more of the ring of truth. “The bulletin came across my ’link. I was in utter shock. Utter. My driver will attest to it. I had a complete breakdown, and came here, directly here to the station, hoping against hope it had been some sort of mistake, or a terrible prank.”

  “That covers you after eight-thirty. I’ll ask again, were you home alone between six and seven P.M.?”

  “I … I was in a meeting.”

  “With?”

  “A potential guest.”

  “Name?”

  “If you won’t take my word for—”

  “I won’t. Answer the question, or you can contact your lawyer from Central.”

  Not just a flush this time, but a harsh stain of red on his cheeks. “A fresh young actress I hoped to introduce to more of my viewership, to help advance her career.”

  “Name.”

  He spent some time picking invisible lint off his sleeve. “Scarlet Silk.”

  “Contact information.”

  “I’d have to look that up.”

  “Then do that. You were with Ms. Silk,” Eve continued as he pulled out his memo book, “from six to seven?”

  “Yes.” He rattled off the contact information. “Now, I need to prepare for my show. This has been very upsetting. I need to compose myself and prepare.”

  “All right.” Eve rose as he did. “Ms. Mars made her living on secrets, rumors, innuendo. Did she share any concerns with you over anyone who wished her harm?”

  “She was fearless.” He laid his hand on his heart, made a fist there like a salute.

  “Did you share with her any secrets, rumors, or innuendo you learned through your own channels?”

  She saw the flicker, the way his eyes cut away. “I host a friendly, comfortable show for my viewership. I maintain a friendly and respectful relationship with my guests.”

  “How about yes or no on the question?”

  “Absolutely no.”

  “All right. Thank you for your time.”

  Eve stepped out, over to Mars’s door, cut the seal. “Peabody, run the fresh young actress with the porn name.”

  “Already on that.”

  They stepped in. Like her apartment, Mars kept her work space in complete darkness. Eve called for lights.

  Unlike Day’s space, it held a desk, fussy, fancy, but a working desk with a slick little data and communication center. Floor-to-ceiling curtains of pale gold covered the windows behind it.

  The sitting area, in the fancy/cozy style, used deeper golds and shimmering blues.

  Like Day’s, hers offered a full bar and a dressing area.

  Eve started to speak, then Nadine stepped to the doorway.

  “Need something?” Eve asked her.

  “This is you doing your job.” Nadine leaned on the jamb. “And me doing mine. If you’re about to do something the public doesn’t have the right to know, I can come in, close the door—and hold whatever needs to be held until. Otherwise, this can go into the pool.”

  “Christ.” Eve chose to ignore her. “Peabody, alert EDD, the electronics will be tagged and waiting for pickup and transport.”

  “Already did. Scarlet Silk—you nailed it, Dallas. I guess she could be called fresh and young. I guess she could be called an actress. And her name reflects her current videography. Her latest is Hard, Hot, and Hammered.”

  “Figured. Contact her, verify his alibi.”

  “Mitch’s?”

  “You got your one-on-one, Nadine,” Eve reminded her, pulling open a drawer in the desk.

  Unused memo cubes, a passcoded tablet, a couple of pens, a couple of cubes of sticky notes. Eve held up the notes. “Did she use these?”

  Nadine shrugged. “You had your interview, Dallas.”

  Already fed up by the swamp of bullshit in Day’s office, Eve rounded on her. “Don’t fuck with me.”

  “Then don’t treat me like somebody who does.” Nadine stepped in, shut the door. “Larinda was well-known for slapping stupid stickies on comp screens, doors—even on the foreheads of her staff.”

  “Where is her staff?”

  “Mostly in cubes, in the area to the right. Neither she nor Mitch wanted their staff on top of them. Mitch, I think, because he likes his quiet time. Larinda because she enjoyed having them run back and forth at her beck. And she used them on a board—like you, sort of.”

  “What board?”

  “This one.” Peabody rolled out a white board covered in colored stickies. “I guess we could call it her case board.”

  Some of the stickies held names, others what Eve thought of as motivations or acts: sex, dollar signs, illegals, abuser, rapist. Some feel-good on there, too: engaged, expecting, honeymoon, charitable interests. Arrows connected some of the notes, and on some she’d
tagged initials in the corners.

  “Too accessible to be her marks. These would be her, well, marks, but professionally. People she’s digging to dish on. Not illegal—it’s her job. But let’s tally up the names, coordinate them with the suspected dirt or offense. It could be somebody got wind of her scratching around and decided to take her out first.”

  Eve wandered over to the clothes racks. “These are for on screen?”

  “She never wore the same outfit twice on screen,” Nadine confirmed. “Wardrobe provides. And she often walked off with what she wore—which isn’t part of the deal. You can buy it at a discount or return it to the rack for return to the vendor—who’ll sell it at a discount—or the station buys it outright and somebody else uses it.”

  She collects, Eve thought. Information, secrets, people, money, jewelry, clothes. Hoarder.

  She had to have another place to stash her collections.

  And her own secrets.

  Peabody looked at her signaling ’link. “Scarlet Silk, tagging me back. Ms. Silk,” she said, moving away as she spoke.

  “Who’s the porn star?”

  Eve considered, decided she’d get more, potentially, by sharing. “Day’s alibi for the time in question.”

  “Not surprising, really. We keep it in the family, but it’s pretty well-known Mitch is a complete dog. A happy, friendly one, but a dog. I assumed Larinda had him on a leash, but I guess he slipped the collar here and there. I’m not sorry to hear he’s covered. I couldn’t see him killing anybody. It’s just not in his makeup.”

  “You like him? He spent most of the interview lying his ass off or puffing up whatever emotion seemed right at the time.”

  “Not surprised by that, either. Still, I do like him. While understanding he’s a dog that’s going to hump legs, and knows better than to try humping mine.”

  “He gave Mars information on people. He says otherwise, but he’s also a lying dog.”

  Nadine sighed. “I was afraid of that, and that’s over the line. I’m sorry to hear it.”