“Anyone else?”
“Yes. Connie went out the side door. I only noticed because I was going to move over to her, ask her some questions about the buffet, for a story. But she slipped out even before K.T. And—and Nadine Furst, she went out. That was after everyone else.”
“Now try reverse. Who came back?”
“Connie, but close to the end of the show. And Nadine. I don’t think she was gone long. Ten or fifteen minutes, maybe. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Keep going.”
“K.T. and Julian didn’t come back, but Joel did. He was only gone a little while. Fifteen minutes, maybe. Not much longer than that. But I’m not sure. Honestly, I was getting some work done. That’s the truth.”
“Why didn’t you give us this information before?”
“Joel asked me not to. He said Julian and K.T. had argued, and she’d had an accident.”
“When did he tell you this?”
“That night, the night it happened. We were working on a statement for the media, and I said something about seeing people going in and out. I asked if he’d dealt with Julian, and how he wanted to handle it if he leaked he’d passed out drunk. And I was upset—anyone would be—and I wondered if the police were going to push at Julian because he’d left and hadn’t come back. That’s why I wanted to know if Joel had been with him.”
“And, Joel said?”
“He said we all had to do what was best now for each other, for the project. We had to protect each other, and then he told me what had happened. That it had been an accident, one she’d brought on herself but one Julian would pay for if the police knew he’d gone out after her. He said he’d take care of everything, and all I had to do was say I hadn’t seen anyone leave.”
“So you covered up a murder.”
“He said it was an accident. He said you’d twist it into a murder because you’d get more play out of it, with all the stars involved, you’d ride on it for months. Besides, K.T. was a hideous excuse for a human being, all right? I worked my ass off to keep the worst of her out of the media, and she never had a good word to say to or about me. Julian’s a sweetheart. So when Joel Steinburger asks me to keep quiet to keep Julian’s head off the block, I keep quiet.”
“For a price.”
Her mouth thinned. “He offered the bonus. Yes, I understood it was a bribe. I would’ve done as he asked without it, but I wasn’t going to turn down the money.”
“So you lied for him again, the very next day.”
“I was at his place. I was working, but … he did go out, at least for a while. He said he had a date, and he wanted my discretion. He and his wife are estranged, but he’s still married. It’s perfectly understandable he didn’t want anyone to know he was seeing someone. He’s entitled to a private life.”
“What time did he come back?”
“I don’t know. I swear.”
She covered her face with her hands. “God, how did this get to be such a mess.”
“Lying and covering up will do that.”
“I was just trying to do my job. That night I went to bed about midnight, and I checked, but the lights were still on in the foyer. The next day, before you talked to us about the detective, Joel called me into his office. He pointed out it would be easier, less complicated, if both of us had an alibi for the night before. As it was, neither of us did, and that would mean we’d stay under suspicion for the death of this man neither of us even knew. He said he knew he could count on me, and he said he’d arranged for the VIP suite, since I’d be so busy—and that my creativity and loyalty would be rewarded.
“He makes and breaks careers. He was making mine.”
“And because you lied, Julian Cross almost died tonight.”
Shock radiated as her voice pitched in panic. “What are you talking about? What happened? Is he all right?”
“Think about it. Think about how many lives your career’s worth.”
Eve walked out, leaving Valerie weeping.
“Are we going to stick her with Accessory After the Fact?” Peabody asked.
“We’ll leave it to Reo and her boss. Ready for the main feature?”
“Oh yeah. There’s crème brûlée. I hid some so it wouldn’t get scarfed down. I’m counting on this interview to work enough calories off for me to eat mine.”
“Then you take the first shot at him.”
“Hot dog! Bad cop?”
“No, Peabody.”
“Damn it.” Peabody’s face fell. “You want me to soften him up so you can come in for the kill.”
“Let’s stick to our strengths and nail this bastard.”
“Then crème brûlée.”
“Then crème brûlée.”
Peabody went in first, alone. She worked on looking slightly intimidated as she read the data into the record.
“Lieutenant Dallas will be here in a few minutes. Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Steinburger?”
“I don’t want anything but an explanation for this outrage. I’ll be speaking not only to your commander, but the chief of police and the mayor.”
“Yes, sir. I should let you know that, well, there have been some discrepancies in your statements. I realize the lieutenant may have … I realize this may seem like jumping in with both feet, but there are those discrepancies.”
“What are you talking about?” He slapped a hand on the table. “Be specific.”
“Well, specifically, we’ve spoken with Valerie Xaviar. She now states she saw Julian, and you, leave the theater for a time after the victim exited same—and she further states you told her the victim had an accident. Prior to the discovery of the body. So …”
“And you take her word over mine?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but she was pretty, well, specific. And then there’s the fifty thousand you transferred to her account. And the fact that you had an account under an assumed name. Um …” Peabody looked through the files as if searching for the name. “B.B. Joel.”
“I do that for privacy, and Valerie had earned a bonus. Though I’m rethinking that matter now.”
“Yes, sir. She also mentioned that you went out on the night A. A. Asner was killed.”
“She’s mistaken.”
“She was reluctant to give us that information. The lieutenant believes her. Especially with the incident tonight involving Julian Cross.”
“What incident? Be specific.” This time he pounded his fist on the table. “I was having dinner with a friend tonight, as you very well know. I haven’t seen Julian since I left the studio late this afternoon.”
“But you went to see him last night.” When Steinburger hesitated, Peabody pressed, gently. “You’d be on hotel security. You took him a bottle of wine.”
“He wanted company. He didn’t want to spend the evening alone. So I took over a bottle of wine. And I limited it to one glass, as he’s been drinking more than he should. He … hasn’t been himself.”
Playing me, Peabody thought, and felt those calories burn. “He ingested two or more glasses of that same wine tonight, along with an as yet unknown amount of Somnipoton.”
“Oh my God. Is he all right? Is he in the hospital? I should have known, should have known he might …”
“You were afraid he might try to harm himself?”
Steinburger shook his head, looked away.
In Observation, Roarke sipped from his own glass of wine.
“You’re not supposed to drink alcohol in here,” Eve told him.
“Arrest me. But let me finish this first. Aren’t you going in?”
“She’s playing him like a flute. He thinks he’s manipulating her, running the show, setting it up so—dead or alive—Julian takes the fall. But she’s calling the tune. She’s doing a damn good job.”
“Wine?” Roarke said, lifting the bottle.
“No. Jesus.” Then she took his glass, and a minute sip. “Pretty good stuff. I’m going to let her string him a little longer. So, want to open another bottle when we get home, and have half-drunk sex?”