Celebrity in Death

by J. D. Robb

  Eve walked out, leaving Valerie weeping.

  “Are we going to stick her with Accessory After the Fact?” Peabody asked.

  “We’ll leave it to Reo and her boss. Ready for the main feature?”

  “Oh yeah. There’s crème brûlée. I hid some so it wouldn’t get scarfed down. I’m counting on this interview to work enough calories off for me to eat mine.”

  “Then you take the first shot at him.”

  “Hot dog! Bad cop?”

  “No, Peabody.”

  “Damn it.” Peabody’s face fell. “You want me to soften him up so you can come in for the kill.”

  “Let’s stick to our strengths and nail this bastard.”

  “Then crème brûlée.”

  “Then crème brûlée.”

  Peabody went in first, alone. She worked on looking slightly intimidated as she read the data into the record.

  “Lieutenant Dallas will be here in a few minutes. Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Steinburger?”

  “I don’t want anything but an explanation for this outrage. I’ll be speaking not only to your commander, but the chief of police and the mayor.”

  “Yes, sir. I should let you know that, well, there have been some discrepancies in your statements. I realize the lieutenant may have … I realize this may seem like jumping in with both feet, but there are those discrepancies.”

  “What are you talking about?” He slapped a hand on the table. “Be specific.”

  “Well, specifically, we’ve spoken with Valerie Xaviar. She now states she saw Julian, and you, leave the theater for a time after the victim exited same—and she further states you told her the victim had an accident. Prior to the discovery of the body. So …”

  “And you take her word over mine?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but she was pretty, well, specific. And then there’s the fifty thousand you transferred to her account. And the fact that you had an account under an assumed name. Um …” Peabody looked through the files as if searching for the name. “B.B. Joel.”

  “I do that for privacy, and Valerie had earned a bonus. Though I’m rethinking that matter now.”

  “Yes, sir. She also mentioned that you went out on the night A. A. Asner was killed.”

  “She’s mistaken.”

  “She was reluctant to give us that information. The lieutenant believes her. Especially with the incident tonight involving Julian Cross.”

  “What incident? Be specific.” This time he pounded his fist on the table. “I was having dinner with a friend tonight, as you very well know. I haven’t seen Julian since I left the studio late this afternoon.”

  “But you went to see him last night.” When Steinburger hesitated, Peabody pressed, gently. “You’d be on hotel security. You took him a bottle of wine.”

  “He wanted company. He didn’t want to spend the evening alone. So I took over a bottle of wine. And I limited it to one glass, as he’s been drinking more than he should. He … hasn’t been himself.”

  Playing me, Peabody thought, and felt those calories burn. “He ingested two or more glasses of that same wine tonight, along with an as yet unknown amount of Somnipoton.”

  “Oh my God. Is he all right? Is he in the hospital? I should have known, should have known he might …”

  “You were afraid he might try to harm himself?”

  Steinburger shook his head, looked away.

  In Observation, Roarke sipped from his own glass of wine.

  “You’re not supposed to drink alcohol in here,” Eve told him.

  “Arrest me. But let me finish this first. Aren’t you going in?”

  “She’s playing him like a flute. He thinks he’s manipulating her, running the show, setting it up so—dead or alive—Julian takes the fall. But she’s calling the tune. She’s doing a damn good job.”

  “Wine?” Roarke said, lifting the bottle.

  “No. Jesus.” Then she took his glass, and a minute sip. “Pretty good stuff. I’m going to let her string him a little longer. So, want to open another bottle when we get home, and have half-drunk sex?”

  “I think of nothing else every waking moment.”

  He dropped an arm around her shoulders as they watched Peabody work.

  “Sir,” Peabody said, honesty shining from her eyes, “I’ve got to be straight with you. You’re in some trouble here. The conflicting statements, the money, and—well. What I want to say is if you know something, now’s the time to tell us. Me. The lieutenant’s running hot.”

  “Then she should cool off! You expect me to turn on a friend? On someone who counts on my support?”

  “Maybe that friend needs help. Maybe he needs to get that help if he—he may not make it, Mr. Steinburger. It doesn’t look good. Julian’s in a coma, and the doctors say he may not come out of it.”

  “God. Oh God.”

  “Let me do what I can here. While I have the chance.”

  “Julian.” He covered his mouth with his hand. “Poor Julian. I shouldn’t have left him alone tonight. He said he would be fine, that he wanted time to rest. He’s been so—he’s been torn up about K.T. It wasn’t his fault, Detective Peabody. You have to understand, it was an accident.”

  “What was?”

  “Let me explain.” He drew in a breath. “Let me explain what happened. When Julian didn’t come back to the theater, I got concerned. I knew he and K.T. were at odds, and both had been drinking. I went up to the roof.”

  “Why the roof?”

  “It’s where K.T. went to smoke those damn herbals she’s addicted to. When I got there … It was too late.” He reached across the table. “She was floating, facedown, and Julian was in shock. He was washing blood off the pool skirt, and barely able to speak.”

  “She was in the pool, facedown, when you got to the roof?”

  “Yes. Yes.”

  “And you didn’t attempt to pull her out?”

  “It was too late. She was dead.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Julian said. He said she’d fallen. They’d argued and struggled, and she’d fallen. And when he’d tried to get her up, he passed out. He thought he’d blacked out, you see, and when he came back to himself, she was dead in the pool. I’m afraid that while he was in shock, under the influence, he—he dragged her into the pool. He tried to cover it up. He couldn’t clearly remember, you see.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I took him downstairs. He was in no shape to talk to anyone. He all but passed out on the sofa.”

  “You didn’t go for help.”

  “It was my help that was needed, Detective. I wanted to protect Julian. He needed my protection. It was too late for K.T. It was an accident, Detective Peabody.”

  “Let me get the details straight, so we can lay this out for Dallas. You followed Julian up to the roof, where he’d met K.T. In the pool area—under the dome, right?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “The dome was closed.”

  “Yes, of course. It’s October. The entire area reeked of K.T.’s herbals. It was sickening.”

  “I guess you didn’t think to open the dome.”

  “Connie prefers it closed in the fall and winter. She swims every morning.”

  “See, that’s another discrepancy. The dome had been opened, then closed again. But the thing is, the mechanism’s faulty. It doesn’t close all the way. It wasn’t closed all the way after the body was discovered. And, there wasn’t any scent of smoke in the dome. It had been aired out.”

  “Maybe I opened it. I was in shock myself, you understand.”

  “Sure. So did you open the dome?”

  “Now that I think about it, yes, I did. The smell was horrible. I needed fresh air.”

  “When did you open it? Before you dragged K.T. Harris’s unconscious body into the lap pool, or after?”

  “Oh, snap it.” Eve slapped a fist into her palm. “That’s my cue.”

  Eve walked out of Observation, into Int
erview.

  “Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, entering Interview. You should’ve choked down the smoke, Joel, and you should have lifted Harris up rather than dragging her. You shouldn’t have said Harris was already floating facedown when you got there.”

  Eve set a box on the table, pinned Steinburger with a look. “One, it looks really bad you made no attempt to get her out, to revive her. Second, it throws your timing off. If you’d come out after Julian allegedly dragged her in, went to get the bar rag, came back, started washing up the blood as you stated, she wouldn’t have been floating. The body would have sunk first when the lungs filled up with water. They’re like sponges. And it takes some time for the gases to expel and all that nasty stuff before the body floats up again.

  “Added,” she said and dropped a recording on the table. “You should have destroyed this rather than tucking it into your safe. You took that out of her bag after you killed her. I guess you wanted to keep it out of the media, yeah, but you wanted to watch it. Perv.”

  She dropped K.T.’s ’link on the table. “And you took this, which you subsequently dumped, along with a variety of electronics from Asner’s place—which you took after you killed him. We know the boat you ‘borrowed,’ the time, the coordinates. The divers expect they’ll pull up more tomorrow. You’re keeping the water cops busy.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I see what you’re trying to do, believe me. You’re desperately throwing everything you can think of against the wall, hoping something, anything will stick.”

  “Oh, it’s stuck, Joel. You also lifted Harris’s sleeping-aid prescription, using one of your handy pass keys. You kept the vehicle code you lifted off Asner’s dead body. We’ve got you, Joel. There’s no explaining all this.”

  She dumped the entire bag of codes and swipe cards on the table.

  “And last night you sent Julian out of the room, added the pills to the wine you’d so considerately brought him, corked it, put it away. So that tonight, he’d be a good boy and follow your orders. Have himself a couple glasses of wine in his whirlpool tub. The irony of him drowning would be good media, and add to your frame job. He killed himself out of guilt for killing her.”

  Steinburger continued to stare at the pile of codes and cards. An angry flush worked up from his throat to his hairline. “You went through my home.”

  “Yeah. Home, office, car—and the California cops are doing the same back there. You had access to the boat, to the trailers, to homes, to offices.”

  “Of course I have access. I’m entitled to go where I need to go. Do you understand who I am?”

  “Perfectly. You’re a murderer. Oh, but you didn’t add to the tote board tonight. Julian’s doing a lot better than Peabody indicated.”

  “I did exaggerate his condition a little.”

  “He told us everything. So did Valerie.”

  “Julian would say anything to cover up what he did, and Valerie’s lying for him. She’s in love with him.”

  “I don’t think so. No, Valerie lied for you, because she’s ambitious and a little greedy. Julian did what you told him to do because he trusts you like he’d trust a father. And you, Joel, murder’s just second nature to you. Julian would only have been the last in a long line that started with Bryson Kane, your college housemate.”

  She walked behind him, leaned down close to his ear. “And we’re going to take you down for every one of them. Hand to God.”

  “You have nothing.”

  “Kane got tired of you buying your way through college. And because he’d had enough, wouldn’t cooperate anymore, he got a trip down the stairs and a broken neck.” She pulled out the crime scene photo of Kane’s body, tossed it on the table.

  “Marlin Dressler, old, rich, and breathing, stands in the way of money and power you want—and maybe wasn’t as keen on having you marry his great-granddaughter as he should’ve been.”

  She tossed Dressler’s photo in turn. “A push off a cliff takes care of that.

  “Angelica Caulfield, pregnant, won’t let go, threatens to tell your wealthy, also pregnant wife.” Eve added Caulfield’s photo to the others. “She gets what we’ll call the Julian Cross treatment—only it worked with her.

  “I can keep going, right down the line. The media’s going to crucify you. And I’m going to pass them the hammer and spikes while my partner and I lock you in a cage for every life you ended.”

  “Who do you think they’ll believe? I’m the most powerful man in the industry. You’re just a cop who married money.”

  “You’re right. I’m just a cop.”

  “I tried to help you,” Peabody said, sorrow in her eyes now. “We have a witness who saw you entering Asner’s office on the night he was murdered.”

  “You’re lying. No one saw me.”

  Peabody nodded. “Sometimes people work late.”

  “If you think anyone will take some cheap lawyer’s or sleazy bail bondsman’s word over mine, you’re mistaken.”

  “How do you know who has the other offices on Asner’s floor?” Eve asked him. “Oops! You were there, Joel. On that floor because you contacted Asner and arranged to meet him at his office. He happened to be with someone when you contacted him. I have her statement, too. You contacted him, arranged for the meet, then you killed him.”

  “That’s absurd. I … went to speak with him because K.T. told me she’d hired him. I only went to speak with him, to buy back any data he might have gathered.”

  “Was he already dead, too?”

  “No. Yes. Yes.”

  “No? Yes? It’s hard to think under pressure, isn’t it? Hard to think when it’s all coming down on you. You usually have more time, more space. You get to plan things out better. You didn’t wipe the bird off as thoroughly as you thought.”

  One lie, Eve thought, deserved another. Why not add a phantom print to Peabody’s phantom wit?

  “He attacked me. It was self-defense. I only protected myself when he came at me.”

  “Beating his brains out when he was on the ground? I don’t think so. Neither will the jury. You beat him to death,” Eve said, leaning in. “Then you took his files, his electronics, his ’link—and that contact you made to it will be there. It’s amazing what EDD can do. And you stole your friend’s boat, took it out, dumped it all. Your friend, Violet? She recanted, on the record, her alibi for you on the night of Caulfield’s death—and stated you asked her to do so.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Vi’s simply angry with me since she’s only been able to get home-screen roles. I can hardly prop up the career of every washed-up actress I’ve known.”

  “She didn’t sound angry, did she, Peabody?”

  “Just the opposite. She’s really fond of you, Mr. Steinburger. She was really grateful for the break you gave her way back, paying her so she could hire that mag consultant. She really thought it was sweet of you to want to surprise your wife with a big party. I mean to say she really believed that’s why you asked her to cover for you so she was glad to lie about you being with her and the consultant—on the night you killed Angelica Caulfield.”

  “Your alibis are tumbling down, Joel. Violet’s, Valerie’s. With the fifty thousand in bribe money also on record now. Electronics are coming up from the river. Oh, and also from the Coast. We’ve got Pearlman’s comps in our EDD now. Technology’s advanced since you framed him, staged his suicide. We’re tracking the skimmed funds back to that private account of yours.”

  “Angelica was a neurotic, unhappy woman with a taste for drugs and alcohol. Pearlman was weak and greedy.”

  “All that may be true, but neither of them self-terminated. You got rid of them, like you got rid of a nosy paparazzo, and a young assistant who got too clingy, an ex-wife who maybe pushed the wrong buttons. I’ve got nine on your scoreboard, Joel, and I’ll be looking for more. If they’re there, I’ll find them.”

  “You’ll find nothing.” He reached up, loosened his tie slightly. “There’s nothing to find.”<
br />
  “Maybe, maybe not. But you’re done. You’re over.”

  “I’ve been in this business longer than you’ve been alive! I have more power, more influence than you can dream of. I’ll crush you.”

  “You’re done,” she repeated, watching his color rise again. “You’re over. Unexpected wits, sloppy murder weapon wiping, a botched kill tonight, with Julian alive to spill everything.”

  Eve let out a half laugh, eased a hip on the table—disrespect and light contempt in every gesture.

  “And you just had to bitch to Nadine. She was wearing a wire, by the way, about the stench zoner added to Harris’s herbals. When that was one of those little details we kept back.

  “You got cocky. Getting away with murder for so long, you got overconfident. Trying for two in two days, then following it up with a third? Hey, nobody could expect some slick Hollywood type to pull that off.”

  “You’ll never prove it.”

  “I will. All of it.” She held up the bag of pass codes. “This? Stupid. We’re smarter than you, Joel. I didn’t know how much smarter until this.”

  He shoved up, started to lunge at her. She was on her feet in a finger snap.

  “Come on,” she invited. “Take a shot. We’ll add Assaulting an Officer to the mix. I don’t mind a bit.”

  “I would have made you.” He trembled—not from fear, Eve saw. From rage. “I would have made you with this production. You’d have been one of the most famous women on or off planet. The most admired police woman in their history.”

  “Thanks. But I’m just a cop, and that’s good enough. It felt good to kill Asner, didn’t it? You don’t get to go that physical nearly often enough, do you? The pounding, the blood, the release of it. The power of it.”

  “No one says no to me.” He swiped a hand through the air, balled it into a fist, rapped it on the table. “I told him to give me everything he’d gathered on Marlo and Matthew, on me. And he refused. A sudden conscience, going to take it all to the police?”

  The fist slammed again, again. “Who did he think he was dealing with? Did he think he could blackmail me for more money? Stupid? He was stupid. He was the stupid one.”