“It’s bad for business,” he said flatly. “I’m sticking to it being an outsider—on the record. But I’m worried, I’m very worried something happened that night between K.T. and … one of us.”
“You suspect someone.” Nadine widened her eyes. “Joel!”
“I’m not going to discuss that, even off the record. It’s probably just the nerves of dealing with all this. The fact is, if she hadn’t gone up to indulge in the filthy habit of smoking, she might still be alive.”
“They do say even the herbals are bad for our health.”
“Worse yet when it’s one after the other mixed in with sense-dulling illegals like zoner.” He waved a hand in front of his face. “The combination reeks. I’m sorry. I’m upset—tired. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead and you don’t want that either. It’s bad for business as well.”
“Joel, I was there, too.” To enhance that connection, she leaned forward to lay a hand over his. Solidarity.
“I’m part of this. If you have reason to believe … If you think you know who killed her, tell me. I won’t go public.”
“I don’t feel right about it. Give me a day or two.” He turned his hand over, gave hers a pat and squeeze. “I need to think it through. I’m probably making too much of things. Now, Nadine, I really need you to wrap this up. It’s been a very long day.”
“Of course.” She settled back, signaled the camera again. She lobbed a couple of easy ones, to reset the tone, put him at ease.
And decided straight interview or undercover, it was going to play very well.
“Again, thank you so much for doing this. I know it’s a terrible time for everyone.”
“Life—and work—go on. I’ll walk you out.”
“You don’t need to bother.”
“I’m heading out myself. As I said, long day.”
When he opened the door, Julian stopped pacing outside, hurried to him.
“Joel. Sorry, Nadine, I need to talk to Joel.”
“No problem. Julian.” Struck, she lifted a hand to his cheek. “You look so tired.”
“Everything feels off. I can’t work like this. I can’t handle all this. Joel—”
“Come on into my office. We’ll sit down, talk this out. Good night, Nadine.” As he turned, he sent her a long, sorrowful look over his shoulder.
“What the hell was that?” she muttered when Joel closed the office door. “What the hell?”
Inside, Julian began to pace again.
“Sit down, for Christ’s sake, Julian. You’re wearing me out.”
“I can’t sit. I can’t work. I can’t think or sleep. I’m one tangled nerve, Joel. Did you see Dallas, hear what she said? She’s going to make an arrest. What am I going to do? I should go talk to her, go talk to her and explain—”
“You’ll do no such thing. Pull yourself together! I told you I’d take care of things, didn’t I? It was an accident, and there’s no reason for you to pay any price for an accident. Will it bring her back?”
“No, but—”
“Do you want to risk going to prison, Julian?”
“No, God, no, but—”
“And ending your career, giving up everything you have, can have? For what?”
“I don’t know!” Julian pushed at his hair, clamped his hands on his temples as he paced and prowled. “It’s all so confusing. It keeps playing back in my head, but it doesn’t make sense.”
“You were drunk, Julian. You can’t be expected to remember clearly. Drunk, then in shock. My boy,” Steinburger said with such sympathy that Julian stopped, let out a long breath. “Listen now. It’s not your fault. You said you’d do as I said. You said you’d trust me.”
“I do. I do trust you. I don’t know what I’d do without your help, your support.”
“Then do what I tell you. Go back to your hotel. Pour yourself a glass or two of that very nice wine we had a bit of last night.”
“You said not to drink anymore.”
“That was last night.” Joel gave Julian a bracing pat on the back. “You’re not on the call sheet tomorrow. Indulge yourself. A nice glass of wine, while relaxing in your whirlpool. I know this has been a terrible strain on you. Put all this out of your mind for a while.”
“It’s all so mixed up, Joel.”
“I know. Follow my advice. Wine and whirlpool.”
“Wine and whirlpool,” Julian sighed, then repeated it with a nod when Steinburger stared at him. “Yes, I will. Wine and whirlpool.”
“You’ll see. It’s exactly the right solution. Tomorrow, everything will be fine. Just fine again.”
“It doesn’t feel like it ever can be.” Grief, guilt, sorrow swam in Julian’s eyes. “Joel, I’ve never hurt anyone before. I’ve never—”
“She hurt herself,” Steinburger said flatly. “You remember that. Tell you what. I’ll give you a lift. My driver’s ready for me. I’ll drop you at your hotel.”
“Okay. Maybe you could come up for a while. I hate being alone.”
“Best thing for you—we agreed, didn’t we? You follow Doctor Joel’s prescription tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll have dinner, and we’ll talk it all through. If you’re not feeling yourself again, we’ll talk about alternatives.”
“All right. Yes. Alternatives. Thanks, Joel.”
“What are friends for?”
Eve stood in the master bedroom of Steinburger’s apartment. She listened to Feeney’s roundup of Nadine’s interview while Roarke searched the dressing area.
Together with the search team, they’d already picked their way over the living area, the dining area, office, kitchen, even the terrace.
She had higher hopes for the second floor, but so far they’d scored a fat zero.
“Okay. Keep me in it,” she told him, then stuck her communicator back in her pocket.
“He told Nadine he was heading home—tired, long day—but he tagged a friend—some other producer, talked him into drinks and dinner out.”
“So we’ve more time before he gets here and expresses his outrage.”
“Yeah. Could be he wanted company. Could be he wanted an alibi. Nadine did a number on him, according to Feeney. Tied the dead ex-wife, the pregnant lover into it—even the business partner, college pal, and first wife’s great-grandfather. Made him sweat.”
Roarke glanced over as she came in. “Which you’ll enjoy watching, but that’s not what’s got that glint in your eye.”
“He asked her to go off-record. All keyed up. She’s smart, she had her camera turned off, but didn’t voice an agreement. Lawyers might quibble about the wire but we had a warrant for it. Anyway, he tried to play her, how he might know something, how he’s worried he knows something, but can’t say. Won’t cast stones at his friends, and so on.”
“You think he’s picked his patsy.”
“I think he’s got to move on it pretty soon, yeah. I shook him with the imminent arrest, then Nadine piles it on. But better yet, he slipped. Trying to cover for this alleged friend, he said Harris would still be alive if she hadn’t gone up to the roof to smoke.”
Roarke paused, lifted a shoulder. “That’s true enough and a matter of record.”
“But the zoner isn’t a matter of record. And he brought it in. How the combination of herbal and zoner reeks—his term.”
“Foolish to let his abhorrence of the habit slip him up. Still, not to put a damper on that glint, if it was common knowledge she mixed in illegals, it’s not particularly damning.”
“It keeps adding up. One after another, he said, too. If he wasn’t up there, how does he know she went through multiple, laced herbals inside the dome? She tripped him up some on the pregnant lover, too. Little trips. They add up to a fall.”
She turned, walked back to the bedroom. “He’s organized—in how he thinks, how he lives, how he works. How he kills. Not obsessively so, but careful. Still, there are little things. Too many sex enhancements and toys.”
“Can there be too many?”
“From his supply, he’s never met one he didn’t like. Sex is power. He’s got his awards and kudos in every single room. He has to see them wherever he goes in here. He’s got files of what appears to be every article, blurb, mention, photo with his name or face in it throughout his career. We’ve got his B.B. Joel account on his comps here, just as you predicted.”