by J. D. Robb
“What? Oh. Right.”
“She was born for this,” Mira said as Eve strode off. “Not just for command, which fits her like skin, but for balancing the wrongs with the rights. Someone else, perhaps anyone else, would have finished this another way.”
“She couldn’t.”
“No. It’s already cost her. She’ll need you when this is done.”
“We’re going away for a few days.”
Mira angled her head. “How did you manage to persuade her?”
“The art of the deal.” He offered his arm. “May I escort you to your seat, Doctor?”
“Lieutenant. McNab, Position Four. First subject approaching theater, stage door entrance.”
“Copy.” Eve turned from the backstage monitor to Roarke. “That’s your cue. Try not to deviate from the outline, okay? I believe physical risk is minimal, but—”
“Trust me.”
“I just want to go over—”
“Lieutenant, does it occur to you that I might know what I’m doing?”
“It occurs to me that you always know what you’re doing.”
“Well then, I repeat. Trust me.” With that he left to take his mark.
On the monitor she watched him walk out on the bare stage, stand under the lights. She wondered if he’d ever considered acting. Of course he hadn’t, she thought. Deals, shady and otherwise, had been his passion. But he had the face for it and the build, the presence, the grace.
And, she mused, he had an innate skill with a believable lie.
Wasn’t that acting?
“Michael.” Roarke offered a hand as Proctor entered. “You’re prompt.”
“I didn’t want to keep everyone waiting.” With an easy laugh, Michael glanced around. “The trouble with being prompt is you always wait for everyone else. I was really glad to get your call. I wasn’t sure the cops would ever let the theater open again, at least not in time for you to put Witness back into production.”
“They appear to have everything they need from the scene.”
“I want to thank you for giving me the chance to play Vole. I realize you could call in another name actor to fill the part.”
“No qualms?” No, Roarke thought, he didn’t see qualms. But ambition. “Considering what happened to Draco, I wondered if you might be somewhat anxious about stepping into the role.”
“No, I’m fine with it. I don’t mean fine,” he corrected and had the grace to flush. “It’s terrible what happened to Richard. Just terrible. But—”
“The show must go on,” Roarke said smoothly, then glanced over. “Ah, Eliza, and Areena. Ladies, thank you for coming.”
“Your call saved me from boredom and brooding.” Eliza stepped up, brushed her cheek to Roarke’s. “The boredom of being between acts. And brooding over Kenneth. I still can’t believe what I’m hearing on the news.”
“Don’t,” Areena said. “There’s a mistake. There must be.” She rubbed her chilly arms. “It’s so odd to be here again. I haven’t been back since . . .since opening night.”
“Will you be all right with this?” Roarke took her hand, warmed it in his own.
“Yes. Yes, I must be, mustn’t I? None of us have any choice but to go on.”
“Why shouldn’t we?” Carly made an entrance. A deliberate one. She’d applied dramatic makeup to go with an electric blue dress that scooped low at the breasts, stopped short at the thighs.
For power, she’d told herself. She was damn well going to be powerful.
“None of us gave a damn about the late, unlamented Richard Draco.”
“Carly,” Areena murmured it, a quiet censure.
“Oh, save the fragile sensibilities for the audience. He fucked us all over at one time or another. Some of us literally,” she added with a tight, fierce smile. “We’re not here to dedicate our next performance to his memory. We’re here because we want to get back to work.”
“He may have been a bastard, dear,” Eliza said mildly, “but dead is dead. And now Kenneth’s in the hospital, and under guard.”
“Kenneth ought to be given a medal for ridding the world of Richard Draco.”
“They haven’t charged him yet.” Areena twisted her fingers together. “Can’t we just discuss the play and get away from the ugliness for a little while? Is this a full cast call, Roarke?” She brushed a hand over her hair, looked around. “I was sure the director would be here by now.”
“Difficult to arrange a full cast call at the moment.” Roarke let the implications of that hang. “The part of Sir Wilfred will need to be recast.”
“Couldn’t we rehearse with a stand-in?” Michael asked. “I’ve never run through an entire act with the first cast. It would be helpful for me to do that as soon as possible.”
“There you go, Michael.” Carly laughed. “No moss growing on you.”
“You just said we were here to work,” he shot back. “There’s no reason to snipe at me.”
“Maybe I’m feeling snipey. You’re just sulking because I kicked you out of my apartment instead of crying on your shoulder.”
“I would’ve helped,” he said quietly. “I would have tried.”
“I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone.” Her eyes glinted with an inner fury that burned into her voice. “I slept with you. Big deal. Don’t think you mean anything to me. No man is ever going to mean anything to me.”
“Once more, sex rears its ugly head,” Eliza muttered. “Must we forever have glands interfering with art?”
“Eliza.” Areena stepped forward, laid a hand on Carly’s arm. “Carly, please. We need to get along. We need to stick together.” She tried a bolstering smile. “What must Roarke think of us, bickering this way?”
“I’d say you’re all under considerable strain.” He paused, skimming his eyes over the faces turned toward him. “And that if any or all of you feel unable to continue with the run of the play, I’d prefer to know sooner than later.”
Carly threw back her head and laughed. “Oh please. Each and every one of us would claw through broken glass for a chance to perform in this one. The publicity will pack this house for weeks when we open again, and every one of us knows it. Nothing as irksome as murder will get in our way.”
She tossed her hair back, stretching out her arms as she crossed the stage. “So bring on a stand-in for the inestimable Sir Wilfred, cast a goddamn droid in the role, it’ll still be standing room only.”
She whirled back, arms still lifted. “Go ahead, Roarke, throw open the doors. Let the play begin.”
As cues went, Eve figured it was near to perfect. “It never stopped,” she said, and moved from the wing’s shadows to the lights.
chapter twenty-two
“Lieutenant Dallas.” Carly lowered her arms slowly, let one hand rest on her cocked hip. “What an irritating surprise to see you again.”
“Oh, Carly, do stop playing the diva,” Eliza said irritably. “You’re not nearly old enough to pull it off. Lieutenant, I hope you’re here to tell us you’ve made the arrest you promised. You seemed very confident in your interview on Channel 75.”
“An arrest is imminent.”
“Not Kenneth.” Areena pressed a hand to her heart.
“If it was Kenneth,” Eliza put in, “I hope we can all be counted on to behave decently and stand behind him. I intend to.” She brought her shoulders back, spoke grandly. “I don’t desert my friends.”
“That’s admirable, Ms. Rothchild.” Eve slipped her hands in her pocket, fingered the remote. “But Kenneth Stiles is no longer the primary suspect in this investigation. Richard Draco’s killer is on this stage.”
Even as she spoke, the houselights dimmed, the stage lights glowed. And the courtroom set slid into view. A long-bladed knife lay on the evidence table. Eve crossed to it, picked it up to weigh it in her hand.
“The murder took place on this stage. And so will the arrest.”
“Well, we’ll have to give you points for the dramatic twist, Lieutenant.” Ca
rly breezed forward, arranged herself languidly in the witness chair. “Please go on. We’re all riveted.”
“Cut it out, Carly. It had to be Kenneth.” Michael sent Areena an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Areena, but it had to be. He tried to run, and then he tried to . . . well, escape permanently. If he wasn’t guilty, why would he have done all that?”
“To protect someone,” Eve said. “It’s a recurring theme here.” She touched the tip of the knife with her finger, then set it down again. “Miss Plimsoll fussing over Sir Wilfred to protect his health, no matter how many different ways he insults or evades her.”
“Really, Lieutenant, that’s a character.” Eliza puffed up like a bird who’d just had its tail feathers plucked. “Surely you’re not suggesting that I had anything to do with this.”
“It’s all about character.” Eve studied Eliza’s outraged face. “Sir Wilfred, protecting his client, risking his health, only to learn in the end he’s freed a murderer. Leonard Vole, pretending to defend his beloved wife, helping her to escape a crumbling Germany years before, only to use her again and again to protect himself. And Christine.” Eve shifted her gaze to Areena. “Risking her reputation, sacrificing her freedom to cover for him. Out of love that was thrown back in her face in the cruelest and most careless of ways when she had served her purpose.”
“We know the play,” Carly said with a dainty yawn. “I suppose you’ll say that while only the understudy, Michael was ranged with Richard, that is, Vole.”
“That’s right. And with Draco out of the way, he becomes Vole. What better way to right an old wrong, to avenge his mother’s honor?”
“Just a minute. That’s enough. I’ve had enough of this. I don’t have to take that sort of thing from you.” Michael’s fists bunched at his sides as he took one threatening step toward Eve.
“Michael.” Roarke’s voice was quiet. He shifted so that he blocked Michael’s reckless advance, and the actor came face-to-face with iced violence. “I could hurt you in ways you can’t possibly imagine.”
“Roarke,” Eve would have cursed him for the interference, but it would have changed the mood.
“Step back, Michael,” Carly advised, and only the grip of her hand on the chair indicated her concern. “You’ll only embarrass yourself. You’re running through our happy troupe rather quickly, Lieutenant.”
Carly crossed her legs, all but purring to shift the attention to herself. “But you haven’t touched on me or my character counterpart. I don’t believe Diana was protecting anyone.”
“She would have.” Eve turned, walked slowly to the witness chair. “Wouldn’t she have seen that, after it all came tumbling down? That she would have followed after Christine, being used, being exploited, then being cast off when he looked for fresher prey? I think she would have hated him for that. Hated him,” Eve repeated, resting her hands on the arms of the chair, leaning down. “For spoiling her party, her pretty dreams, for making her see what a fool she’d been to fall for something despicable, disgusting.”
The pulse began to hammer in Carly’s throat. “You’re giving the character more depth than she deserves.”
“I don’t think so. I think Vole underestimated her. People, particularly men, often underestimate beautiful women. They don’t look past the surface. He didn’t know you, did he? Didn’t know what kind of strength and passion and purpose lives inside you.”
A spotlight flashed on, bathed Carly in a cool, white glow.
“You don’t frighten me, Lieutenant.”
“No, you don’t scare easy. And when someone bruises you, you hit back. Harder. I have to respect that. He thought he could toss you aside, like an LC after the hour’s up. He thought he could humiliate you in public, right here, on this stage, in front of the cast and crew. So they’d look at you with scorn or pity. You wouldn’t, couldn’t swallow that. He had to pay for that.”
“Stop hounding her.” Michael gripped the edge of the evidence table. “Leave her alone. You know what she’s been through.”
“She’s just grasping at straws.” Her mouth was dust dry, but Carly managed to keep her voice level.
“Men don’t toss you aside, do they, Carly?” Eve glanced back at Michael. “That’s not allowed. Not tolerated. It was easy to plan it, really. Just step by step. And it was so beautifully tailored to suit. He would die right here, almost at your feet.”
“I want a lawyer.”
“You can have a team of them.” Eve stepped back, wandered to the evidence table, tapped a finger on the handle of the knife. “It was easy to get the knife out of the kitchen. Who notices a missing knife where there are so many? You knew the pace of the play, how much time between a change of sets. Even if someone saw you, it wouldn’t matter. You belonged here, like part of the scenery or an important prop. Slip the dummy knife up your sleeve, set the murder weapon down, and walk away.
“Was it hard to wait?” She turned the knife in her hand so that it caught the lights, shot glints. “To say your lines, to listen to others, while in your head you could see that last scene play, the way the knife would drive into him, the shock on his face, when he was finally punished for what he did to you.”
“It’s ridiculous, and you know it. You can’t prove any of it because it’s not true. You’re just going to end up looking like a fool.”
“I’ll risk it. Carly Landsdowne, you’re under arrest for the murders of Richard Draco and Linus Quim. You have the right to remain silent,” she continued as Peabody came out, moving toward Carly. “You have the right to an attorney and/or the representative of your choice. You have—”
“Get away from her!” The shout came as Peabody prepared to snap restraints over Carly’s wrist. “Don’t you dare touch her. She’s done nothing!”
Areena shoved Michael aside, rushed to the evidence table. Her face was wild with fury as she grabbed up the knife. “You won’t touch her. You won’t do this. Damn you to hell.”
She whirled on Eve. “She didn’t kill Richard. I did. I only wish I’d done it years ago, before he ever laid his filthy hands on her.”
“I know.” Eve walked to her, eyes locked, and took the harmless knife out of Areena’s hand. “I know it. Anja.”
“Anja? Oh God. My God.” Carly crossed her arms over her breasts, rocked.
“Peabody, move these people out of here. Carly, sit down. There’s a story you need to hear.”
“Let her go.” Areena’s voice was frantic as she ranged herself between Eve and Carly. “I’ll tell you everything. Haven’t you put her through enough? I waive my rights. I understand them and I waive them. Now let her go.”
“You.” Carly’s eyes seemed to burn in her face. “You and Richard.”
“I’m sorry. So sorry.”
“You knew.” Bracing herself, Carly got to her feet. “You knew all along. And did nothing when he . . .”
“No. Oh, Carly, you can’t think that I’d have stood aside. Yes, I knew. When I saw you, when you were cast and I realized you were . . . who you were, I went to him. You’re so much what he coveted. Young and beautiful and fresh. I told him who you were so that he wouldn’t touch you in that way. That was my mistake.”
She closed her eyes, took the weight. “I’ll never know if he would have looked elsewhere for his pleasure. I thought I was protecting you, and instead . . . Instead, he seduced you, knowing it. Knowing it. You weren’t to blame. You were never to blame.”
“He knew.” Carly pressed a hand to her midriff. “You both knew.”
“When I found out what he’d done, what he was doing, I confronted him. We argued. Bitterly. I threatened him, threatened to expose him, to go to the press with the story. I couldn’t have, of course, I couldn’t have because of what it would do to you. He believed me, at least initially, and broke it off with you. He was cruel to you because he knew it would hurt me.”
“How did you know me?”
“Carly, I . . .” Areena trailed off, shook her head. “I never interfered
with your life. I had no right to. But I was kept informed.”
“Why did you care?” Carly demanded. “I was nothing but your mistake.”
“No. No. You were a gift, one I couldn’t keep. I gave that gift to your parents because I knew they would cherish you. They would protect you. As I tried to,” she said wearily. “I would never have told you, Carly. Never. If there’d been a choice. But I can’t let them accuse you, can’t let them blame you for what I did.”
She turned back to Eve. “You had no right to put her through this.”
“We’ve all got a job to do.”
“Is that what you call this?” Carly gasped. “To find out which one of us exterminated a roach, and why. Well, you’ve done it. I wonder how you sleep at night. I want to go.” She began to weep. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to go.”
“Dr. Mira?”
“Yes.” Mira walked onto the set, slipped an arm around Carly. “Come now, Carly. Come with me.”
“I’m dead inside.”
“No, only numb. You need to rest a little.” Mira sent Eve a long, quiet look, then guided Carly away.
“Look what you’ve done to her. You’re no better than Richard. Abusing her, exploiting her. Do you know the nightmares that will haunt her? Scream through her head?” Eyes grim, Areena faced Eve. “I would have spared her from that. I could have spared her from that.”
“You killed him after he’d stopped abusing her. Why did you wait until it was over?”
“Because it wasn’t over.” Areena sighed, gave into her trembling legs, and sat. “He came to see me a few days before we opened. He’d been using. He was always more vile when he was using. He threatened to take her back. If I wanted him to keep his distance, I’d have to take her place. So I did. It was only sex, it meant nothing. Nothing.”
But her hand shook as she dug into her purse, found a cigarette. “I should have pretended to be hurt, outraged, terrified. Those emotions would have stimulated him, satisfied him. I could have made him believe it. Instead, I showed disgust and disinterest. He retaliated by suggesting a threesome, himself, me and Carly, after opening night. He reveled in telling me everything he’d done to her, with her. How he’d enjoyed it, how exciting it had been for him to pound himself into her, knowing she was his blood, his daughter. He was a monster, and I executed him.”