by J. D. Robb
“Speaking of that, your professional beginnings. Can you tell me if it’s usual for Joel Steinburger to give a rookie actress twenty thousand dollars?”
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s just one of those old details that popped up in routine investigation. Twenty thousand, transferred into your account—a brand-new account—on July eighteen, ’twenty-nine. Was that a usual practice?”
“No, not at all. Which is what makes Joel so unusual, and special. I remember it very well, as it deals, again, with Simone. The role. I wanted it desperately, and my readings went well. I worked on them for days.”
She laughed a little, looking back. “I ate, slept, breathed Simone. But while Joel wanted me for the part, the rest of the suits were holding out. I wasn’t beautiful enough, sophisticated enough. I wasn’t sultry, I wasn’t sexual. And so on.”
“Okay. Twenty thousand changed that?”
“You’d be surprised. Joel gave me the money out of his own pocket, took that risk. He had me hire one of the top consultants at the time—for fashion, hair, enhancements, attitude.” She laughed again. “God, it was exhilarating. And with this entirely new look and the ’tude that went with it, I went back in for another reading. And I got Simone. I owe Joel for that, and a good deal for everything that came after.”
“Were you lovers?”
“Not then. We were later, for a time. These are odd questions.”
“I know it seems that way. I have another. Since you remember the incident so well, you should remember what Joel asked you for in return.”
“To get the part.”
“A little favor, something he asked for at or near the same time.”
“I just don’t understand what this has to do with my boat.”
“There are all sorts of details we have to nail down.”
“Well, I do remember, as it was a particularly exciting time for me. It’s simple, really, and sweet, though I never really equated it with an exchange, as you’re saying. Not a favor for money.”
“What do you remember?”
“Joel was planning a surprise for his wife, they’d just found out she was expecting their first child. He wanted to take a quick trip down to their villa in Mexico, check on the preparations. He just asked me to say, if asked, that he was with me and the consultant at our first meeting that evening. Which he was, actually, for the first couple hours. Then he had to leave for the flight. Is that what you mean?”
“Yeah, that clears it up, thanks. I guess when the police asked you, you stuck to the story.”
“Oh.” Violet laid a hand on her heart. “Angelica Caulfield’s overdose. Yes, I see the police connection now. What a tragedy, what a waste of a life and talent.”
“The police questioned you?”
“They’d spoken to Joel. There were rumors he’d been having an affair with Angelica. Honestly, I can’t count the number of affairs I’ve had, according to rumor, with people I’ve never even met. It’s part of the business.”
“When they talked to you, you told them he’d been with you and the consultant.”
“Well, yes, I did tell them he’d been with us. Germaine, the consultant, was there when the police made the inquiry. Just routine, again. And he automatically confirmed Joel had been with us. So I did, too. It seemed easier.”
She paused a moment, let out a breath. “I haven’t thought of that in years, but I guess it would’ve been better if we hadn’t. Joel certainly would have had his flight records and so on, but the media would have been all over the trip to Mexico, and spoiled the surprise. And Lana was wonderfully surprised when he threw the most amazing party for her at their villa. My first real bash,” Violet said with a smile.
“Now that surprise isn’t a factor, would you mind clearing up the discrepancy for the record—for the files,” Eve said.
“Oh. All right, sure. If it’s really necessary.”
“Just cleaner,” Eve said casually. “We’ll take care of it later. Would you mind if we took a look at Simone?”
“Not at all.” At the gate, Violet swiped a card, entered a code. “She’s in six. My lucky number.”
“Have you been out on it—her—lately?” Eve asked.
“Not in a couple weeks. I’ve been in Baltimore, on a location shoot for a new series. I only got back to New York yesterday afternoon.”
“Does anyone else have access to the boat?”
“Phillip—Phillip Decater. We’ve been cohabbing for the last couple years. But he hasn’t taken her out. He was with me in Baltimore, and he’s a shaky sailor. His only flaw,” she said with a smile as she gestured to a pretty white boat, with shining brass and gleaming wood.
“You take friends out for rides, I imagine.”
“Yes, friends, family. When we can arrange it. What is this about?”
“It may be nothing. Is there a way for you to tell if the boat was taken out during your absence?”
“If you’re thinking somebody took her out for a joyride, I don’t see how. They’d have to get through the gate, then get through the security in the wheelhouse, then access the start code. If you went through all that successfully, why not keep sailing and sell the boat up in Nova Scotia?”
“Good point. But, if someone did, can you tell?”
“I can check the digi-log. It would have a record of the last use, the coordinates, the time elapsed.”
“Really?”
“A new toy,” Violet admitted with a grin. “Phillip got it for me for my birthday last month. Hardly something I need on a pleasure boat, but he knows I love Simone, and I enjoy gadgets.”
“Can we check your gadget?”
“Why not? Come on board. The galley’s always stocked,” Violet said as she stepped nimbly from the dock to the boat. “Can I offer you anything?”
“We’re fine, thanks.”
“Gosh, it’s beautiful.” Peabody brushed her fingers over the trim. “I don’t really know much about boats, but I know wood. This is really gorgeous.”
“Reclaimed teak. We do a lot of entertaining on her in the summer. She’ll sleep eight if we want to make a weekend of it with friends.”
She climbed up a narrow flight of stairs, entered another code at a glass-fronted door.
Though the room looked like a command center, it held an old-fashioned ship’s wheel—the helm, Eve supposed.
And a view out the wide ribbon of glass of the harbor.
Eve tried not to think about the way the floor swayed, gently, under her feet.
“Here now.” Violet moved to the right. “Gadgets. Sonar, which is fun for tracking schools of fish, or whales if we take her out far enough. Various global weather stations. And this is the digi-log.” She opened a counter screen, spoke her name, the name of the boat. “Phillip had this voice-activated, for fun.
“Display full log,” she ordered. “You’ll see,” she said to Eve, “we haven’t been able to take her out much since … This doesn’t make sense.”
It did to Eve. “Am I reading this right? The boat was taken out yesterday morning zero-one-sixteen and returned to dock just over an hour later at zero-two-twenty-two. For a total of two-point-six miles. And this is the average speed?”
“Yes, the knots.” Violet pulled off her cap, raked her fingers through her hair. “This is very upsetting.”
“And these numbers, the coordinates? That’s where the boat was taken, how it got there.”
“Yes, yes. Damn it. I’m going to be speaking to marina security about this. If someone on staff decided they could help themselves to Simone, they’re going to find out differently.”
“Maybe you want to check the boat,” Peabody suggested. “Just to make sure nothing’s been disturbed, or nothing’s been taken.”
“God. Yes, of course. Damn it!” As she strode out, she dragged out her ’link. Eve heard her say, “Phillip, someone’s been at Simone. No, no, she’s fine. I have the police right here.”
“He didn’t know about the gad
get,” Eve said. “It’s new. I bet he knew she was in Baltimore, knew the boat would be here. Knew how to get through the gate, through the door, and start her up.”
“They used to be lovers,” Peabody whispered. “She lied for him once that we know of, in an official inquiry.”
“Because—my read—she was young, grateful, naive. And whether she knew it or can admit it, felt obligated because he gave her the money for the consultant—was supporting her for the role she wanted. She told us about it too easily—no worries, no evasions.”
“Yeah.” Peabody glanced toward the wheelhouse door. “He’d have had no reason to give her a warning about it. She wouldn’t have expected to be asked after all this time. She looked surprised, but not scared.”
“She’s probably changed security measures since they had any sexual deal going. She’s cohabbed for a couple years with this Phillip guy. But Steinburger would have been on board since. He’s a friend, and he has a boat of his own.”
Eve went out and down, then down again when she heard rummaging belowdecks.
“Everything seems to be as it should be.” Violet stood in an organized galley kitchen, mixing a drink. “I’m having a Bloody Mary. I’m so mad! Phillip’s on his way. He’s a man you can count on.”
“You said only the two of you had access, but what about emergencies? Marina security.”
“Yes, yes, I didn’t think. They have emergency bypass access.”
“And you said you often entertain on board. Maybe some of your friends and family know the codes.”
“Maybe, maybe.” She took a quick drink. “But they’re friends. They’re family. If any of them wanted to use the boat, they’d ask. They’d hardly skulk around the marina in the middle of the night when they’d only have to contact me to get clearance.”
“Have you entertained any of the cast and crew on the Icove vid on board?”
Violet lowered her glass. “You think this incident is somehow related to the murder? That’s … I want some air.”
She moved past Eve and Peabody and went up on deck.
Eve gave her a minute, then followed. “Did you have a party on board for some of the cast and crew?”
“Connie and I are friends. I adore Roundtree. Andi and I have gotten friendly, as well, now that we don’t compete for the same roles with regularity as we once did.”
She sat, sipping at her drink. “I’d met Julian before, and found him just adorable. And Joel and I were, as you know, very friendly once upon a time. We’ve remained friends. Phillip and I hosted a harbor party on Simone at the end of August. They were all here, and K.T., Marlo Durn, Matthew Zank—several others. We did an overnight for a smaller group. Connie and Roundtree, Joel, Andi—we all have boats, you see. We’re all sailors. I don’t see how this applies to a murder.”
“It’s a detail we need to follow up on. Have any of them been on board since that party?”
“Ah.” She rubbed her forehead. “There’s rarely time for too many parties when you’re in the middle of shooting a project. Connie and I had lunch on deck one afternoon last month, I think. We didn’t take her out. Just had a fancy ladies’ lunch catered, here in the marina. And, oh, I lent her to Joel a few weeks ago. He wanted to take some of the money people out, and was looking at renting a boat. I told him not to be silly, he could use Simone.”
“You had to give him the codes.”
“Yes, I suppose I did. I meant to change them, just a matter of course. But I’ve been busy with the new series, and it slipped my mind. Besides, as I said, Joel—none of them—would have any reason to sneak in here and take her out in the middle of the night.”
“Just a detail,” Eve said easily. “We appreciate your time, and your cooperation. Before we go, I’d like to make a copy of your digi-log.”
“Please do. Shouldn’t you look for fingerprints?”
Eve smiled. “I think the log copy will be enough. Since we’re here, why don’t we just get that correction for the record.”
“Thirty years ago,” Violet began. “Really, is it necessary?”
“Just to keep the record clean. Peabody, why don’t you go make that copy while I take care of this.”
Once done, they left Violet brooding over her Bloody Mary.
“Peabody.”
“I know, get the log data to the water cops, coordinate with them about pinning the dump location, sending divers down.”
“Make it their priority,” Eve added. “We got the first sliver, sliver and more with her recanting his alibi for the night of Caulfield’s death.”
“He planned all that in advance. Set it up, lavishing the attention, the consultant—who, yeah, I’ll track down—the clothes, and dangling a big part in front of a young, hungry actress.”
“Who was probably half in love with him,” Eve added. “Reo’s going to like it. And locating the dumped electronics would be a really nice boost. We’ll get the search warrant.”
“It was just luck she had that digi-log deal.”
“Steinburger’s had luck his way long enough. Without the log deal, there’d have been something else. Fuel consumption, something. I want a couple of cops to canvass the marina, see if anybody saw Steinburger—saw anything. And I want EDD to check out the gate security. She needed to swipe as well as code to get us in there. Let’s see how he pulled that off.”
“On it. Here comes Nadine.”
“I see her.”
“This better be good.” Nadine clipped up to them. “It better be mega. I’m up to my ass in work putting this special together. I barely got three hours of sleep last night, and I ate two sticky buns for breakfast because they were there. Now I’m all the way the hell out here when I should be putting together my questions for that fucker McQueen.”
“It sounds like you could use a nice walk in the park. Peabody, take care of those items, will you? You can catch up to us.”
“I don’t have time for a goddamn walk in the park,” Nadine began, but Eve just strolled away.
“Oh. If I didn’t know she could kick my ass, I’d seriously try kicking hers.”
“Trust me,” Peabody told her. “It’s going to be worth the walk.”
20
If you had to be out in nature, Eve figured a city park did the job in a civilized manner. The wildlife ran to squirrels, pigeons, muggers, and the inevitable end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it prognosticator who invariably looked rattier than the squirrels.
She liked the flowers well enough. Someone actually planted them rather than them just sneaking up out of the ground when nobody was looking. And in addition to the weird chirp of a bird or buzz of some bloodsucking insect, came the comforting grumble of traffic.
“I’m not tromping all over Battery Park in these heels.”
Eve glanced down at the towering pumps in glossy tones of rust picked out in gold. “Why do you wear them if you can’t walk in them?”
“I can walk in them just fine, thanks. But I’ll be damned if I’ll hike in them.” Nadine plopped down on a bench, crossed the legs that ended in the no-hiking shoes, folded her arms. “What’s this about and why the hell couldn’t we deal with it on the ’link? My schedule’s blown to bits now.”
“You’re going to want to add something to the bits.”
Nadine simply gave her the steely eye. “Do you have any idea what goes into setting up a multipart special like this? The scheduling, the travel, the writing, the conceptualizing, wardrobe? Added to it, I’m doing the interviews, writing the questions, the setups, the narration. And I’m the christing executive producer. So—”
“Speaking of producers,” Eve said mildly as she dropped down on the bench, “I need you to get Steinburger to agree to an interview. You can dig into his thoughts of Harris’s murder, how it feels to be a suspect, how he and the others are handling her death while they continue to produce the vid. Like that.”
“Now you’re telling me how to do my job?” Temper spiked up over stress. “I swear to God, I may jus
t try to kick your ass after all.”
“In those shoes?” Eve snorted. “Your ankles would snap like twigs.”
“Listen, Dallas, the media’s jammed with this already, and Steinburger, like the rest, is toeing the company line. Shock, upset, sorrow, and the show must go on. I’ve already talked to all of them, on record. If you’ve got something new, an angle I can work with, fine. Otherwise, it’s just reprise until you feed us more info. Unless you’re going to tell me Steinburger strolled up to the roof and killed Harris.”
“Off the record.”
Nadine’s eyes narrowed, flashed. “Oh, to borrow from you, Dallas, bite me. You drag me all the way downtown, lay out a tease like you suspect one of the most respected, successful, and revered producers in the business might have killed one of his most bankable if difficult actors? And you expect me to go off the record.”
“Off the record, or you take a hike in those ankle-killers, and I take one in my new, comfortable boots.”
“God! You piss me off.” Nadine studied Eve’s boots and sulked. “They’re nice boots.”
Eve shot out her legs, gave her boots a study in turn. “I guess they go with the coat.”
“I’m not even discussing the coat because it should be mine. I’d appreciate its soft, leathery goodness and superior lines a lot more than you.”
“I like it.” She waited a beat. “So do you want to sit here and talk about our clothes, or are we off-record?”
“Damn it. I—”
“Hold that thought.” Eve rose, strode over, and grabbed a skinny guy in a baggy jacket and camo pants by the arm. “Look, you and I both know that woman’s an idiot for carrying her purse that way.”
“What’s your deal?” He shoved at her, tried to yank free. Eve just shifted and tightened her grip.
“She’s an idiot, and so’s the woman with her. But they’re probably from Wisconsin or somewhere. So snatching their bags in the park is just bad public relations for the city.”
He sneered, fisted his free hand in warning. “Get outta my face, lady, or I’m calling the cops.”