"Oh hell." In the end she went with the gut and told him everything.
He listened, then tucked Eve's hair behind her ear. "You're a good friend."
"Don't say that. It makes me nervous."
"All right, I'll say this: Nadine didn't have anything to do with Draco's murder."
"I know that, and there's no hard evidence indicating any different. But it's going to be messy for her. Personally messy. Okay, what else is in this place?"
"Ah, if memory serves. Kitchen through there." He gestured. "Office, bath, bedroom, dressing room, bath."
"I'll start in the office. I want to run his 'links and see if he had any conversations that involved threats or arguments. Do me a favor." She handed him her kit. "Bag the rest of the video discs."
"Yes, sir. Lieutenant."
She smirked but let it ride.
She worked systematically. He loved watching her at it: The focus, the concentration, the absolute logic of her method.
Not so long before in his life if anyone had suggested he could find a cop and her work sexy, he'd have been both appalled and insulted.
"Stop staring at me."
He smiled. "Was I?"
She decided to let it pass. "Lots of communications in and out. If I were a shrink, I'd guess this was a guy who couldn't stand being alone with himself. Needed contact on a constant basis. Nothing out of the ordinary though, unless you count some pretty heavy 'link shopping – eight pairs of shoes, three snazzy suits, antique wrist unit." She straightened. "But you wouldn't count that."
"On the contrary, I'd never buy snazzy suits via 'link. Fit is everything."
"Ha ha. He did have a short, pithy kind of conversation with his agent. Seems our boy discovered that his leading lady was pulling in the same salary for the run of the play. He was pretty pissed off about it, wanted his rep to renegotiate and get him more. One credit more per performance."
"Yes, I knew about that. No deal."
Puzzled, she turned away from the neat little desk. "You wouldn't give him a credit?"
"When dealing with a child," Roarke said mildly, "you set boundaries. The contract was a boundary. The amount of the demand was inconsequential."
"You're tough."
"Certainly."
"Did he give you trouble over it?"
"No. He may have planned to push it, but we never had words over it. The fact is, his agent went to my lawyers, they to me, me back to them, and so on. It hadn't progressed beyond my refusal before opening night."
"Okay, that keeps you clean. I want to check out the bedroom." She moved past him, across a small, circular hallway and through the door.
The bed was big, elaborate, with a high, padded wall behind and covered with sheer, smoky gray. It looked like a bank of soft fog.
She moved briefly into the adjoining dressing room, shook her head at the forest of clothes and shoes. A built-in, mirrored counter held a chorus line of colored bottles and tubes: enhancers, skin soothers, scents, powders.
"Okay, we've got vain, selfish, egocentric, childish, and insecure."
"I wouldn't argue with your assessment. All those personality traits are motive for dislike, but for murder?"
"Sometimes having two feet's a motive for murder." She moved back to the bedroom. "A man that full of ego and insecurity wouldn't sleep alone very often. He dumped Carly Landsdowne. I'd say he had someone else lined up to take her place." Idly, she pulled open the drawer of the bedside table. "Well, well, look at the toys."
The drawer was fitted with compartments, and each was jammed with various erotic enhancers suitable for partnership or solo bouts.
"Lieutenant, I really think you should take these in for further examination."
"No touching." She slapped Roarke's hand away as he reached in.
"Spoilsport."
"Civilian. What the hell does this do?" She held up a long, cone-shaped piece of rubber. It made cheerful tinkling noises when she shook it.
Roarke tucked his tongue in his cheek and sat on the bed. "Well, in the interest of your investigation, I'd be happy to demonstrate." Smiling, he patted the bed beside him.
"No, I mean it."
"So do I."
"Never mind." But she was still pondering when she put the cone back and opened the bottom drawer. "Ah, here's a little gold mine. Looks like a month's supply of Exotica, a bit of Zeus, and…" She opened a small vial, sniffed cautiously, then shook her head like a dog coming out of a pool of water. "Shit. Wild Rabbit."
She fumbled the stopper back in, grabbed for an evidence bag, and sealed the vial.
"Pure, too." She blew out a breath. "If he's using that on his dates, no wonder they all think he's a sex god. One or two drops of Rabbit, and you'd screw a doorknob. Did you know he was into this?"
"No." All humor fled, Roarke rose. "I don't have particularly strong feelings about most of the illegals. But this one is the same as rape, as far as I'm concerned. Are you all right?"
"Yeah. Yeah." A little dizzy, she thought, and annoyingly horny. And that was only from a quick whiff of the fumes. "Stuff this pure goes for ten thousand an ounce, minimum, and it isn't easy to come by. It only works on the female system," she murmured. "Only takes a drop too many to overdose."
Roarke cupped a hand under her chin, lifted it to examine her eyes. Clear enough, he decided. "There was never any talk about him using anything like this. If there had been, and I'd discovered it was true, I'd have broken his contract. And very likely, his arms."
"Okay." She lifted a hand to his wrist, squeezed. "That's enough in here for now. I'm going to need you to keep this room vacant another day or two. I want an Illegals unit to run through it."
"All right."
She slipped the vial into her kit, and hoped to lighten his mood. "So, how much is it costing you?"
"Excuse me?"
"To keep this place vacant? How much does it run a night?"
"Oh this little place? I believe it's in the neighborhood of eighty-five hundred a night, though I imagine we have weekly and monthly rates as well."
"Chump change. Mansfield has a unit in here, too, right?"
"Penthouse B, the other tower."
"Let's pay her a visit. She and Draco had an illegals history in common," Eve began as she gathered her field kit and started out. "She may know his sources. It could all come down to a bad drug deal."
"I don't think so."
"Okay, I don't think so either, but the majority of cop work is eliminating." She locked the door, started to reach for a police seal in her kit.
"Must you do that?" He eyed the seal with dislike. "It's very off-putting to the other guests."
"Yes, I must. Besides, it'll give them a secret thrill. Oooh, look, George, that's where the dead actor lived. Get the vid cam."
"Your attitude toward society at large is sadly cynical."
"And accurate." She stepped into the elevator ahead of him, waiting for the doors to close. Then pounced. "Just give me a quick – God – " Desperate for release, she rubbed herself against him, bit his lip, moaning as her hands squeezed hard on his butt.
"Whew." On a long breath, she pushed him away, circled her shoulders. "That's better."
"For you maybe." He made a grab for her, but she slapped a hand on his chest.
"No games in public elevators. Don't you know that's a violation of city code? Tower A, penthouse level," she ordered, and the car slid seamlessly into motion.
"You'll definitely have to pay for that."
She leaned back against the wall as the elevator started its horizontal ride. "Please, you're scaring me."
He only smiled and slipped his hands into his pocket. Toyed idly with the rubber cone he'd palmed out of the drawer. "Be afraid," he murmured, and made her laugh as the car came to a stop.
"I had to clear my head before talking to a witness, didn't I?"
"Mmm-hmmm."
"Listen, you know Mansfield fairly well. I'd like your observations when this is done."
"Ah, there I am. Useful again."