Immortal in Death

"Got any security of his place on the night Cockroach bought it?"

"Young came in, with his flight bag, about six A. M. His shuttle got in at midnight. No data on how he spent the missing six hours."

"No alibi. He had plenty of time to get from the terminal to the murder scene. Can we place Fitzgerald?"

"She was at the ballroom until a little past twenty-two thirty. Rehearsals for last night's do. Didn't show up at her place until oh eight. She made plenty of calls: her stylist, her masseuse, her body sculptor. Spent four hours yesterday at Paradise, getting herself buffed and polished. Young, he spent the day talking with his agent, his business manager, and…" Feeney smiled a little. "A travel consultant. Our boy was interested in a trip for two to the Eden Colony."

"I love you, Feeney."

"I'm a lovable kind of guy. Picked up the sweeper's reports on my way in. Nothing we can use on Young's place or Fitzgerald's. The only trace of illegals was in the blue juice. If they've got more, they're keeping it elsewhere. No logs or records of any transactions, no sign of formulas. I've still got the hard drives to diddle with, see if they hid anything in them. But if you ask me, those two aren't high-tech geniuses."

"No, Redford would probably know more about that. We've got more than murder and trafficking here, Feeney. If we can get the stuff classified as poison and pin them with prior knowledge of its lethal qualities, we'll have full-scale racketeering and conspiracy to slaughter."

"Nobody's used conspiracy to slaughter since the Urban Wars, Dallas."

The glide ground to a halt. "I think it has a nice ring."

She found Peabody waiting outside the interview area. "Where's the rest of our party?"

"Suspects are in conference with their attorneys. Casto's getting coffee."

"Okay, contact the conference rooms. Their time's up. Any word from the commander?"

"He's on his way in. He wants to observe. The PA's office will participate via 'link."

"Good. Feeney's going to oversee the recordings on all three subjects. I don't want any slipups when this business comes to trial. You take Fitzgerald for the first round, Casto's on Redford. I want Young."

She signaled when she spotted Casto coming toward them juggling a tray of coffee. "Feeney, fill them in on the additional data. Use it wisely," she added and copped a cup of coffee. "We'll switch teams in thirty minutes."

She slipped into her interview area. The first sip of miserable eatery coffee made her smile. It was going to be a good day.

"You can do better than that, Justin." Eve was revving up, had barely hit her stride. It was hour three of interview.

"You asked me what happened. The other cops asked me what happened." He took a drink of water. He was well off his stride, and faltering. "I told you."

"You're an actor," she pointed out, all friendly smiles. "A good one. All the reviews say so. I read one just the other day that said you can make a bad line sing. I don't hear music here, Justin."

"How many times do you want me to go over the same ground?" He looked toward his lawyer. "How long do I have to do this?"

"We can stop the interview process at any time," his lawyer reminded him. She was a sharp-looking blonde with killer eyes. "You're under no obligation to make any further statements."

"That's right," Eve chimed in. "We can stop. You can go back to holding. You're not going to make bail on the illegals charges, Justin." She leaned forward, made sure his eyes focused on hers. "Not while there are four counts of murder hanging over you."

"My client has not been charged with any crime other than suspicion of possession." The lawyer peered down her needle-straight nose. "You don't have a case here, Lieutenant. We all know it."

"Your client's dangling over the edge of a very steep cliff. We all know that. Want to take the fall alone, Justin? That doesn't seem very fair to me. Your friends are answering questions right now." She lifted her hands, spread her fingers. "What are you going to do if they roll over on you?"

"I didn't kill anyone." He flicked his gaze toward the door, toward the mirror. He knew he had an audience, and for once he didn't know how to play the crowd. "I never even heard of those other people."

"But you knew Pandora."

"Of course I knew Pandora. Obviously I knew her."

"You were there, at her house on the night she died."

"I've said so, haven't I? Look, Jerry and I went to her house, at her invitation. We had a few drinks, that other woman came around. Pandora got obnoxious, and we left."

"How often do you and Ms. Fitzgerald use the unsecured entrance at your building?"

"It's just a matter of privacy," he insisted. "If you had media hounding you every time you tried to take a piss, you'd understand."

Eve knew exactly what that was like and smiled toothily. "Fu

"I don't know." His eyes shifted to the mirror again, as if he was hoping a director would say "cut" and end the scene. "I told you I didn't know what was in that drink."

"You had a bottle in your bedroom, but you didn't know the contents. Never took a taste of it?"

"I never touched it."

"That's fu

"It doesn't have to be." He stopped himself, breathed hard through his nose. "I don't know anything about it."

"An overload on the nervous system, slow acting, but lethal all the same. You poured Jerry a drink, handed it to her. That's murder."

"Lieutenant – "

"I'd never hurt Jerry," he exploded. "I'm in love with her. I'd never hurt her."

"Really? Several witnesses claim you did just that a few days ago. Did you or did you not strike Ms. Fitzgerald in the backstage area of the Waldorf's Royal Ballroom on July second?"

"No, I – We lost our tempers." The lines were tangling in his head. He couldn't remember his cue. "It was a misunderstanding."

"You hit her in the face."

"Yes – no. Yes, we were arguing."

"You were arguing, so you punched the woman you love, knocking her off her feet. Were you still violently angry with her when she came to your apartment last night? When you poured her a glass of slow-acting poison?"

"I tell you, it's not poison, not like you mean. I wouldn't hurt her. I was never angry with her. I couldn't be."

"You were never angry with her. You never hurt her. I believe you, Justin." Eve soothed her voice, leaned forward again, laid a kind hand over his trembling one. "You never hit her, either. You staged it all, didn't you? You're not the kind of man who strikes the woman he loves. You staged it, just like one of your performances."

"I didn't – I – " He looked up helplessly into Eve's eyes, and she knew she had him.

"You've done a lot of action videos. You know how to pull a punch, how to fake one. That's what you did that day, isn't it, Justin? You and Jerry pretended to fight. You never laid a hand on her." Her voice was gentle, full of understanding. "You're not a violent kind of guy, are you, Justin?"

Torn, he pressed his lips together, looked at his lawyer. She held up a hand to hold off more questions and leaned close to Justin's ear.

Keeping her face bland, Eve waited. She knew the pickle they were in. Did he admit to the staging, making himself into a liar, or did he cop to punching his lover, showing his capabilities for violence? It wasn't a steady wire to cross.