“Fine with me. Just don’t drink anything from in here.”
Nadine limped over to the ’link. “Yes. I want a vodka martini, dry as the Sahara, three olives. And I want it pronto.”
She sat again. “How did Steinburger get him to take the pills?”
“Let’s hope Julian’s able to tell us. Got some blisters working there,” Eve noted.
Nadine winced, continued to rub her feet. “Shut up.”
“Since you earned them in the line, let’s see if the MTs have something for them.” Even as Eve spoke, one of the medics stepped out of the bedroom.
“Status.”
“Cleaned him out good. He’s conscious, feeling like serious crap, and stabilizing. We got him hooked up to an IV, get some fluids back in him. He doesn’t want to go to the hospital.”
Eve glanced over as Peabody and two uniforms came in. She gestured toward Nadine, turned back to the MT. “Does he need to?”
“Guy downs a buncha downers with his Cabernet or whatever, he needs some help. That’s auto into Psych for eval and observation. Twenty-four hours.”
“It wasn’t attempted suicide.” She tapped her badge. “It was attempted homicide.”
The MT looked dubious, but shrugged. “You say so.”
“I say so. Is he recovered enough, physically, to stay here?”
“Guy hadn’t barfed most of it up before we got here, you wouldn’t be asking. He needs to have somebody with him to monitor, but he’s stable enough. Pretty fried, but stable.”
“Somebody will stay with him, and I’ll have a doctor examine him.”
The MT looked around, glanced over to where Peabody took Nadine’s official statement. “Guess that’s it then.”
“Thanks for your help.” Eve stepped into the bedroom. Roarke sat on the edge of the bed with Julian propped up on a mountain of pillows. His face remained nearly as white as the linens as they carried on a halting, murmured conversation.
“You can tell her,” Roarke said. “She’ll help you.” Roarke rose. “The MT said clear liquids would be fine, for now. I’m going to go order him something up.”
“All right.” She moved over to the bed, looked down at Julian.
“Record’s on. Do you need me to read you your rights again, Julian?”
“No.” His voice rasped out, and he winced as he swallowed. “Throat’s sore.”
“I bet. Where did you get the pills?”
“I swear to God, I didn’t take any pills. I just had a couple glasses of wine.”
“Where did you get the wine?”
“Joel brought it over last night. He knew I was … upset. We only had one glass each. I’ve been drinking too much since … you know. I drink too much, I guess, when I’m upset.”
“So Joel brought you the bottle of wine, but you didn’t finish it last night.”
“Just one glass each. And it was fine. Just fine. I don’t know why it made me so sick tonight. I guess, maybe, I caught a bug or something.”
“You nearly caught an OD. The wine was full of Somnipoton.”
“Sleeping pills? No, I didn’t take any pills. I told the MTs. I didn’t take any medication.” Agitated, he tried to sit up straighter. “I have some of my own sleeping pills—Delorix—but I didn’t take any. I don’t think.”
He rubbed a hand up and down his throat, closed his shadowed eyes. “I don’t think I did,” he repeated. “I don’t remember taking any. Things get mixed up when I drink too much.”
“The sleeping pills were K.T. Harris’s prescription. The empty bottle was in with the other wine bottles.”
His brow furrowed in a combination of puzzlement and pain. “That doesn’t make any sense. I didn’t take her pills … did I? Why is this happening?”
“You talked to Joel tonight before you came back here. What did you talk about?”
He looked away. “I was upset. I’ve been upset, and I can’t think straight when I’m upset. He said I should come back, have some of the wine he gave me, take a whirlpool. Relax.”
“He said, specifically? For you to drink the wine he gave you?”
“Yes. It’s a nice wine, and I promised him I’d have a couple of glasses. I’d have a glass of wine while I relaxed in the tub, but I just didn’t have the energy for the tub, so—”
“If you had, you’d have drowned just like K.T.”
“I don’t understand, not any of this. I guess I’m being punished.” He let out a shaky breath. “I told Roarke.”
“What did you tell Roarke?”
“That I killed K.T.”
“Julian, are you confessing to the murder of K.T. Harris?”
“I didn’t murder her. I didn’t, but …” He let out a breath again, but this time it was an exhalation of relief. “I killed her.”
“How?”
He stared at Eve with red-rimmed eyes dull against the gray cast of his skin. “I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure? How do you know you killed her?”
“Because I knocked her down. I didn’t mean to, but she pushed me, and I pushed her. Not hard, but I shouldn’t have. I never put my hands on a woman in violence. Never. Never.”
He had to stop, squeeze his eyes shut a moment while he calmed his breathing. “There’s no excuse. I know that. Drinking’s not an excuse, being upset isn’t an excuse. But she was screaming at me, and she shoved me, and without thinking, I pushed her back. She slipped, and she fell back and hit her head.”
“Back up a little, okay? You went up to the roof with K.T. Harris on the night of her death?”
“Yes. I should have told you, but Joel …”
“Joel Steinburger told you not to tell the police. You told him what happened, and he advised you to lie to the police.”
“He was just trying to help me. Protect me. It was an accident. I got drunk—after dinner. It was such an ugly thing she said. And she got me aside after. I told you about those two girls, from the club. I didn’t know they were underage. She said she was going public with all of it if I didn’t …”
“What?”
“She said to meet her up on the roof, and she’d tell me what I had to do. I shouldn’t have gone up. I wish I hadn’t, but I was goddamn sick of her threatening me. Everyone. So I did.”
“Was the dome to the pool open or closed?”
“What? Ah, closed. I remember that. I can remember that because she was smoking—a lot, and it was too warm under the dome. I thought about having a toke, to tell you the truth. But all I had to do was stand there and breathe.”
“Why didn’t you open the dome, get some air?”
“I … I didn’t think of it, but I don’t know how anyway. I was so pissed off. She said I had to get Marlo in my trailer. I was supposed to give her a drink, and it would have some Rabbit in it so she’d want to have sex with me. I said I wouldn’t. I’d never do that to Marlo—to anyone. But Marlo, she trusts me. We’re friends. Jesus, Jesus.”
He passed a shaky hand over his face. “I’d never slip any woman Rabbit, but especially a friend. It just made me so mad when she said that’s what I had to do. How could she want anybody to do that?”
“You told her no.”
“I told her to go to hell. I think. It’s all mixed up, but I know we yelled at each other. I think I said some really hard things to her, and she slapped me, then she shoved me. I shoved her back, and she fell. The strap of her shoe, I think the strap of her shoe broke and she fell. There was blood, and I couldn’t wake her up. I got so scared. I was going to run down and get help, call an ambulance, or something.”
“Is that what you did?”
“I started to, then Joel said …” He rubbed at his face, hard this time, as if to scrub the memories to the surface. “It’s all mixed up. He said not to worry. It would be fine, but then he said she must’ve gotten up, or tried, and fell into the pool. And she drowned. He said it wasn’t my fault, but you’d say it was, because busting a celebrity for killing a celebrity made you a celebrity. And I’d go to prison, even though it was an accident. I’d lose everything and go to prison forever.”
“Listen to me. Look at me.”
He met her eyes, pressed his lips together. “Am I under arrest?”