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*** 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.” Carly 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 crudest 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 vo
ice level.
