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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.

He sat back, hands on the wide arms of the chair, the picture of a man in charge under difficult circumstances.

“I appreciate this, Joel. I know how busy you are, especially now. But because of especially now, it’s important—I’m sure you agree—to talk about what’s going on, how you feel, how you’re handling it. As head of the studio, everyone looks to you.”

He lifted a hand off the arm of the chair in a what-can-you-do gesture. “We can’t put up walls between ourselves and the public.”

“Exactly. Are you ready?”

“Anytime.”

“Good.” She glanced at her camera, gave him the nod.

“And we’re rolling.”

“This is Nadine Furst. I’m with acclaimed producer Joel Steinburger in his office at Big Bang Studios, New York. Joel, thank you so much for agreeing to talk to me today.”

“It’s always a pleasure, Nadine, even under these circumstances.”

“I know the murder of K.T. Harris has shaken to the core the industry, and the cast and crew of what will tragically be her last vid. Joel, you’re well-known for your hands-on, involved approach to projects like The Icove Agenda, and I know you and K.T. worked closely together on her role. How are you holding up?”

“It’s a raw wound, Nadine. A raw wound. To know that this talented actress, this fascinating, layered woman, this friend is gone, cut off from us in such a needless and tragic way. It’s incomprehensible.”