Witness in Death

"He's talking with Marcina, one of the top screen producers in the business. Could be your boy is hoping for a career shift."

"Less than a week ago, the stage was his life. Interesting. Let's see how he holds up."

She worked her way over, noted the instant Proctor saw her. His eyes widened, his head drooped, and his shoulders hunched in. Presto-chango, Eve thought, from debonair leading man to fumbling second lead in a blink. The magic of theater.

"Proctor."

"Ah, ah, Lieutenant Dallas. I didn't realize you'd be attending."

"I get around." Deliberately, she sca

"Quim? Oh." He had the grace, or the skill, to flush. "No, no, I suppose not. Richard was… he was known and respected by so many people."

"A lot of them sure are toasting him." She leaned over, studied the pretty bubbles in the glass he held. "With premium champagne."

"He would have expected no less." This from the woman Roarke had identified as Marcina. "This event suits him perfectly." She shifted her gaze over Eve's shoulder, then beamed. "Roarke! I wondered if I'd see you here."

"Marcina." He stepped up, lightly kissed her cheek. "You're looking well."

"I'm very well. Dallas," she said after a moment, and pi

"If you'll excuse me," Proctor said.

"Don't run off on my account," Eve told Proctor, but he was already edging away.

"I see a friend." He dived into the crowd like a man leaping overboard.

"I assume you're on duty?" Marcina skimmed a glance over Eve's trousers and serviceable jacket. "You're investigating Richard's death."

"That's right. Would you mind telling me what you and Proctor were talking about?"

"Is he a suspect?" Lips pursed, Marcina looked over to where Proctor had disappeared. "Fascinating. Actually, it was shop talk. Michael has the right look for a screen project I'm putting together. We were discussing the possibility of him coming out to New L.A. for a few days."

"And is he?"

"Perhaps. But he's committed to his current play. He's quite looking forward to taking Richard's place onstage. Not that he put it quite so tactlessly. My people will be talking to his people, as it were, over the next week or two to see if we can work something out. He hoped that the theater will reopen very soon."

The minute Eve stepped outside, she took a deep gulp of air thick with the stink of smoke from glide-carts, screaming with the noise of street and air traffic. She preferred it over the sweetly perfumed air inside.

"Proctor isn't letting Draco get cold before he steps into his shoes."

"He sees an opportunity," Roarke commented.

"Yeah. So did the killer."

"Point taken." He traced a fingertip over the dent in her chin. "I might be a little late tonight. I should be home by eight."

"Okay."

"I have something for you."

"Oh, come on." When he reached in his pocket, she stuffed her hands in hers. "This isn't the time or place for presents."

"I see. Then I guess I'll just keep this for myself."

Instead of the jewelry case she'd expected, he pulled out a jumbo chocolate bar. Her hand whipped out of her pocket, snatched it.

"Then again," Roarke murmured.

"You bought me a candy bar."

"I know the way to your heart, Lieutenant."

She tore off the wrapping, bit in. "I guess you do. Thanks."

"It's not di

"Sure. You got transpo?"

"I'll walk. It's a nice day." He caught her face, kissed her before she could tell him not to.

Chewing her candy, she watched him walk away. And thought she understood exactly what Peabody meant by the love of a lifetime.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Mira studied the record of the interview with Ke

Now she would be late. That thought shifted through the back of her mind as she focused on the interview. Her husband would understand, particularly if she made a quick detour on the way and picked up a carton of his favorite ice cream.

She'd learned long ago the tricks and balances of blending a demanding career and a successful marriage.

"You and Feeney are an excellent interview team," she commented. "You read each other well."

"We've been doing it awhile." Eve wanted to hurry Mira along but knew better. "I think he's been practicing that hard-ass look in the mirror."

That brought out a smile. "I imagine so. Given his comfortable face, it's surprisingly effective. Am I correct in assuming you don't believe Stiles told the whole truth?"

"Are you ever wrong?"

"Now and again. You're looking for this Anja Carvell?"

"Peabody's tracking her."

"He had, and has, strong feelings for her. I'd say she was a turning point for him. If it had been a storybook, the woman would have come to him after he defended her. Happily ever after. But – "

"She didn't want him."

"Or didn't love him enough, felt unworthy, humiliated, scarred." Mira lifted a hand. "There are countless reasons why she and Stiles didn't match. Without observing her, I couldn't say. Still, it's Stiles's emotional and mental state that interests you."

"Peabody's idea is that this woman was the love of his life, and because of that, he'd never have completely lost touch with her."

"I think Peabody has good instincts. He protected her, defended her. A man with his sense of theater or drama would tend to put himself in the role of hero, and she his damsel in distress. He may very well still be doing so."

"She's key," Eve murmured. "Maybe not the key, but a key." With her hands in her pockets, she wandered to Mira's window. She was feeling closed in today and couldn't say why. "I don't get it," she said at length. "The woman shrugs him off, sleeps with another guy, folds herself into this other guy so completely that when he tosses her away, she tries to self-terminate. And still Stiles is hung up on her. He beats hell out of Draco, gets himself arrested, gets ski

"I can't say with absolute certainty. He's a talented actor. But my evaluation at this point is no, as far as his feelings for the woman, he's not jamming you. Eve, the human heart is a mystery we'll never completely solve. You're putting yourself in this man's place. That's one of the skills you have, what makes you so good at what you do. But you can't quite get into his heart. You would look at this woman and see weakness."

Mira sipped more tea as Eve turned. "She was weak. Weak and careless."

"And quite young, I imagine, but that's beside the point. You look at love differently because you're strong and because of where and in whom you found it. The love of your life, Eve, would never betray you or hurt you or, where it matters most, ever let you down. He accepts who you are, absolutely. As much as you love him, I don't think you fully understand how rare and how precious that is. Stiles loved, and perhaps still loves, a fantasy. You have the reality."

"People kill for both."

"Yes." Mira ejected the disc, held it out to Eve. "They do."

All the talk about love and lifetimes got under Eve's skin and made her feel uncomfortably guilty. She played back what others had said and realized everyone who had mentioned her relationship with Roarke as an example had spoken of what he would do for her or wouldn't do to her.