by J. D. Robb
“You’re sure of that?”
“Yes.”
“But not of where you were seated. You know where two other people and—from previous statements—where the vic sat, but you can’t quite remember where you were.”
“I was here.” Agitated, Valerie slapped her finger on the tablet.
“Now you’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“You were seated here, but never noticed the light from the opening door.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“It’s funny, because I ran a reconstruction and putting myself in this seat—the seat you’re now sure you used—I sure as hell noticed the brief wash of light from the door.”
“Obviously you’re more observant than I, or more sensitive to a change in light.”
“That must be it. It couldn’t be that you’re lying.”
Valerie tried for insulted, but that panic slipped through again. “I don’t have any reason to lie.”
“You have your career. I bet it’s important to you. Moving on, you’ve also stated that you were at Joel Steinburger’s New York residence at the time of A. A. Asner’s murder. Are you sure about that?”
“Of course.”
“Just checking. Neither you nor Mr. Steinburger left the residence at any time that evening, that night, and through to the morning?”
“No.”
“You’re sure because you spent every minute of that time together.”
“We worked late, until after midnight—nearly one A.M., trying to get ahead of the story, anticipate the angles. I stayed in the guest quarters as it was so late when we finished, and we agreed to put in some time in the morning.”
“How much do you get paid for that kind of overtime?”
“Excuse me?”
“I wonder what you get for putting in all that time.”
“My job requires flexibility and often entails long and odd hours. I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“Cops are nosy. I’m nosy, so I wonder if the time you put in explains the fifty thousand Mr. Steinburger transferred to your account yesterday morning.”
Agitation switched to shock—covered fairly well, Eve thought, with sputtering outrage. “You looked into my personal finances? What right do you have to—”
“Every. This is murder. What did you do for fifty large, Valerie?”
“My job! Joel values exceptional work, which I provide. Handling the fallout from K.T.’s death has involved a lot of extra time, extra hours, and some innovation. He gave me a bonus.”
“But you said your job requires flexibility and often entails long hours.”
“It does.”
“And how often are you given a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus for doing your job? Because unless it was in cash, and went unreported, which would mean you didn’t pay taxes on it, I didn’t see anything comparable in the last two years.”
“I can only speculate Joel felt these circumstances, and my handling of them, warranted the bonus.” She looked away, and her throat worked. “You’d have to ask him.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that. Are you sleeping with him again, Valerie?”
“I am not! I don’t have to sleep with an employer to advance my career.”
“But you had sex with him before.”
“It had nothing to do with career advancement. It was just a momentary weakness on both our parts. We started and ended it before we came to the New York studios.”
“Good for you. Speaking of advances, I just got this wild hair and checked with the hotel. You’ve moved up to a VIP suite. That’s a major upgrade from a standard room.”
“I needed the extra space, and the upgrade for the work.”
“And the—what do they call it—maître d’étage service, the personal gym and private elevator.”
“I needed a larger work space,” Valerie said stubbornly now. “The studio approved it.”
“You know what fancy digs and a fistful of cash says to me, Peabody?”
“Well …”
“It says bribe. Cops are suspicious and cynical as well as nosy.”
“I haven’t done anything but my job. I came in here voluntarily, but I don’t have to stay and be insulted.”
“I wonder what it’s like running media interference for people who make, what? Easily ten times what you do, more for some of them. For people who get all the perks as a matter of course, get all the attention, while you labor away behind the scenes, scrambling to show them all off in the best light. Then have to spin or cover up their fuckups, their stupidity, their indulgences. Their sins, their crimes.”
“I do what I do, and I’m good at it. I work for one of the most successful and prestigious studios in the industry. I have a staff of six who report to me, and I report directly to one of the icons of our business.”
“Did the icon ask you to lie for him, Valerie? Or for someone else?”
“I’ve given you my statement. I don’t have anything else to say.”
“That’s a ‘no comment’? You’re free to go, but I think we’re going to talk again. Really soon. Right now I have a media conference to prep for. Any advice?”
“Sarcastic bitchiness doesn’t go over well on camera.”
Eve smiled to herself as Valerie swept out of the room. “Interview end. I’m a sarcastic bitch.”
“No comment,” Peabody replied.
“And she’s a scared liar who doesn’t know whether to shit or spin. She’ll be dumping this on Steinburger asap. In fact, I’ll wager EDD’s going to get an earful before she gets all the way out of the building.”
“We may have put her head on the block, Dallas.”
“If he kills her, the upgrade and money only look more suspicious. We’d push at him for accessory, push the compensation as a bribe or payoff. He’s smarter to keep her alive, back up her version of the bonus and the need for bigger digs. But we’ll keep an eye on her.”
“How?”
Eve pulled out her ’link. “Dallas,” she said when Connie answered. “I need you to do something.”
“What do you need?”
“Contact Valerie, and tell her to meet you. I don’t care where, but I need you to keep her busy and with you or your husband for the rest of the day.”
“All right. Can I ask why?”
“You can ask, but I’m not going to tell you.”
“That’s annoying, but I could actually use some help this afternoon. The studio heads decree I should speak at K.T.’s memorial—and Mason should give the main eulogy. Between that and—well, I could use the help. When do you want me to send for her?”
“Now.”
“Now?”
“Now. And don’t tell anyone we spoke about this. I’ll be in touch later.”
“But—”
Eve clicked off, the better to avoid questions. “Valerie can’t say no to Connie—the vid star, the director’s wife. The memorial’s a lucky addition.”
“You trust her? Connie?”
“Trust is a strong word,” Eve considered, “but since she didn’t kill either of our vics, it’ll do for the moment.” She checked the time again. “Let’s go drop our bombshell on the unsuspecting public.”
She pulled out her communicator when it signaled. “Dallas.”
“Steinburger just took a tag from Xaviar,” Feeney told her. “She sounded a little out of sorts.”
“Is that so?”
“And she had uncomplimentary observations about you.”
“My feelings are hurt.”
“I’ll send a copy of the transmission to your files.”
“Thanks. For now, just give me the gist.”
“About you being really rude and offensive? Or the part about you being a bully with bad hair?”
“How about the part where she tells Steinburger I’m looking at her new job benefits.”
“Oh, that part. You had some nerve looking at her personal financial data, and questioning her hotel accommodations, trying to scare
her. My take? You didn’t try, you succeeded. Steinburger grilled her on it. Wanted chapter and verse, which I’ll skip over since you were there. He told her she didn’t have a thing to worry about. Stroked and petted, said how she did just right, and the studio—and he personally—was grateful for her discretion and loyalty. He grilled her again when she told him you were making a new statement to the media on further info and an upcoming arrest. Then he told her to hold on, he had an incoming. He didn’t.”
“Needed some time to pull it together.”
“That’s my take. Left her holding for seventy-three seconds. Had himself cool and collected when he came back on. Told her not to worry. Both of them were only doing what was best for the project and the studio, and when everything settled down again, he’d show her his appreciation.”
“She buy that?”
“She thanked him, then said she was going back to the hotel to work. That she’d watch the media conference from there, and work out an official studio response.”
“She’s going to be busy for the next several hours, and out of his reach. Let me know what else you get. We’re going into the media deal in a few minutes.”
“Better you than me,” Feeney said and broke transmission.
Eve glanced over, saw that Peabody had stopped, and stood with her own communicator. A wide grin spread over her face as she put it away.
“Divers are bringing up some electronics from the coordinates we gave them. They’ll run the serial numbers when they get them in. But one of them reports he got lucky and found a ’link—a red ’link engraved with the initials K.T.H.”
“We got his ass, Peabody. Contact Reo, fill her in. Tell her she’s got her goddamn sliver and to get us the search warrants.”
21
SHE PLAYED THE MEDIA BY THE BOOK. IT WASN’T hard to look mildly disgruntled or show flashes of impatience. She felt more than mildly disgruntled giving the same answer—We can’t give specific details on the investigation at this time—over and over again. She wanted to talk to the water cops, to Reo, to get her warrants and completely ruin Steinburger’s day.
Along with the rest of his miserable life.
She could only hope her statement at least gave him indigestion.
“I’ll say again, while I can’t comment on specific details, the investigation is moving forward. And with new information that has come to our attention, we believe we’re close to making an arrest. But close isn’t good enough, so as I’ve said all I’m free to say, my partner and I are going back to work.”
She stepped away from the podium, glanced briefly in Nadine’s direction.
While a number of other reporters continued to shout out questions—hope sprang, Eve supposed—Nadine rose, gave Eve the most subtle of nods.
Even as she walked to the door, Nadine pulled out her pocket ’link.
“She’s putting the arm on Steinburger now,” Eve told Peabody. “We’ll want to confirm where she meets him for the interview. When the warrants come through we’ll start wherever he’s not. No point in tipping him to the search until we have to.”
“He could tell Nadine no interview, or put her off.”
“She won’t take no. She won’t be put off. She’s like a ferret. And he won’t have Valerie for cover,” Eve added. “He’d look weak and stupid if he tried to haul her in away from Connie. He can’t look weak or stupid.”
“I think he’s both. But there’s somebody who isn’t. Ever.”
Eve watched Roarke approach. “He can be stupid. Keep on the water cops, Peabody. Maybe another sliver will move Reo’s ass on the goddamn warrant.”
“Lieutenant, Detective. You both looked somber, official, and attractive for the media. Nice boots, Peabody.”
“Don’t encourage her. I knew pink was a mistake.”
“On the contrary. They look charming.”
Unable to stop herself, Peabody did a little runway turn. “I love them.”
“Use your pink boots to walk, Peabody. Water cops.”
“Love them,” Peabody said again with a quick grin for Roarke before she used the boots.
“Charming,” Eve muttered. “Charm isn’t cop, and she’s threatened to wear them every day. She has worn them every day this week.”
“It’s nice to know a gift’s appreciated. I made some time as I feel a personal interest in this investigation.”
“That old excuse.”
He smiled at her. “I thought Feeney might have something interesting for me to do.”
“He’s tapped into Steinburger’s comms, and we’re going to be monitoring Nadine when she boxes Steinburger into an interview. But better, we’ve got Pearlman’s electronics. I’m hoping EDD can track back, using the buried account you found, link the embezzlement to Steinburger.”
“See? Enough fun for all. I’d like finishing out the financials. And you?”
“Waiting for Reo to get me search warrants. Then I’m going to turn the bastard’s residence, vehicle, and office inside out until I find something to put his murdering ass away for several lifetimes.”
“Even more fun. I’d enjoy poking and peering into someone’s private belongings.”
“You’ve got plenty of experience.” She considered. “You could be useful.”
“My mission in life.”
“It would spare Feeney an e-man if I had my own geek along to deal with Steinburger’s electronics. That’s your favorite poke and peek area anyway.”
“You know me so well.”
“Once done, you could dig into the Pearlman angle.”
“He’s bound to have data on the B.B. Joel account on his comp. A man must monitor his money, after all.”
“I guess he must.”
She caught him up on the morning’s work as she led him to the conference room instead of her office. Then just stood with him, studying the board.
“That’s both efficient and disturbing.”
“It needs updating. We found the boat he used.”
As she added to the board, she brought Roarke up to date.
“And still not enough for an arrest,” Roarke commented.
“I can’t prove he used the boat. I can only show he had the means, knew the codes. I can’t prove he bribed Valerie. I can only show the money.”
“And it shows pattern. It begins to add up.”
“Piece by piece.” Eve tucked her thumbs into her pockets. “And Valerie? I can break her. A couple more shots and she’ll crack. Right now she’s protecting herself, thinking it through. What’s best for Valerie. I get a little more on him, push it in her face, bring up accessory to murder, she’ll roll on him like an LC on a john.”
“Do you think he plans to eliminate her?”
“Oh yeah. But not now. Too many questions for him if he gets rid of her now. Down the road she’ll have a terrible accident, or OD. Whatever suits best. He can’t try to implicate her as she’d turn on him like a rabid dog. So I figure she’s safe enough, but Connie’s a good buffer in the event he panics.”
“Who will he implicate? Or allude to?”
“I’m wondering about that. Connie works. The scene at dinner, the private talk after. And she admitted to leaving the theater, so that gives her opportunity. He doesn’t know about the dome, and the fact is that’s not going to stand very steady in court without a whole lot more. But it’s a detail. And he’d figure we could leapfrog to Connie killing Asner because Harris hired him, and he had something on her or on Round-tree. She knows the boat owner.
“She’d do,” Eve concluded. “The same in general fits for Andrea, and we know there was the issue with the godson. He’d know that, too. Marlo and Matthew, very unlikely as he’d have to implicate both of them. That gets tricky and sticky. But Julian would work.”
“I wondered if you’d get to him.”
“Drunk, embarrassed, the issue of the underaged banging. Finds out Asner has the goods, too. Pissed. Kills Harris, cleans up with Asner. The thing is the guy doesn’t have killing
in him, not the Asner kind anyway. Not the planned-out, follow-through, beat-the-living-shit-out-of-somebody kind. And he’s just not smart enough to have pulled off two murders in two days.”
“I feel mildly insulted.”
“He’d have screwed up, and he’d bury himself in guilt and fear.” Amused, she gave Roarke a sidelong look. “He ain’t you, Ace.”
“And still, mildly insulted.” Roarke laid a hand on her shoulder, rubbed. “You need all of them. You need to take him down for all of them. You could bring him in on what you have now, and sweat him. You could break Valerie, add to that sweat. You’d have a good chance of closing it down on Harris and Asner.”
“Pretty good.” And she’d thought of it, weighed it in. “Yeah, pretty good. Not a sure thing, and not anything but circumstantial, coincidence, speculation at this point on seven others. Even the recant by Holmes doesn’t equal proof, just adds suspicion. More if we can dig back thirty years and prove he didn’t go to Mexico that night.”
“We can manage that,” Roarke promised her. “But that doesn’t equal proof he killed Caulfield either.”
“It would add more weight. Enough weight, joints and muscles start giving way. Maybe I won’t get them all. Odds are slim.”
“You have to try.”
“I can’t turn away from those faces.” The young, the old, the famous, the ordinary. “It may be that all I’ll be able to do is let him know I know. Let him know I’ll keep digging until I bury him. But before I settle for that, I’m going to try for a grand fucking slam.”
She snatched out her ’link. “Dallas.”
“Warrants coming through,” Reo told her. “And believe me, even with your slivers it was a job. How the hell was I supposed to know the judge I tapped is a major vid buff, with great admiration for Joel Steinburger? Jesus.”
“Maybe he’ll make more vids from his cage. I’ll get back to you when we find something.”
She clicked off, smiled fiercely at Roarke. “Batter up.”
Nadine settled into the club chair in Steinburger’s office, flashed her best camera-ready smile at him and crossed her legs. The man, she thought, wasn’t thrilled with the situation, but he covered it well. He sat across from her, a small table with pretty flowers between them, and one of his Oscars on display in the background.
