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“Peabody!” This time Eve snapped it out. “We’re not here to discuss confidential and official details of the investigation, nor will those details be given to the media. Whatever buzz the brass wants.”
“I might be able to he
lp. It is my field, and I’d—”
“We’re covered.” Eve took a slim tablet out of the file, swiped it on. “You stated you were seated here during the screen show in Roundtree’s theater on the night of K.T. Harris’s murder. Is this correct?”
“Ah …” Valerie leaned forward, studied the seating chart Eve had created. “Yes. I think so. I was seated toward the back and to the right.”
“To the best of your recollection is the rest of this chart accurate?”
“I really didn’t pay that much attention, but I do remember Marlo and Matthew moved over to this corner, where you have them, and Roundtree was in the front, near you and your husband. Joel was behind me as was Julian. So it looks correct there.”
“And in your statement given the night of the murder you said you didn’t notice anyone leaving the theater during the show.”
“I didn’t.”
“You were seated toward the back, and to the right. Now the area outside the doors had the lights on low, but there were lights on out there. And when the doors opened—as we know they did more than once during the screen show as it is fact that the victim, the killer, Nadine Furst, and Connie Burkette exited the theater—the light from the opening door would angle over your seat. Those doors opened several times, but you didn’t notice?”
“I was, as I said before, doing a little work, which is why I sat in that area. And I may have been a seat over. It’s hard to remember exactly.”
“Which was it? Here?” Eve tapped the screen. “Or here? Or maybe here?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Now you’re not sure.” Eve sat back, eyes cool, nodded. “Yet you seemed sure when you gave your initial statement.”
“I didn’t know the exact seat would be so important.”
“You didn’t know where you were seated, if you were seated, if you saw someone leave, if you left yourself, would be important to a murder investigation?”
“I never left that theater.” A trace of panic threaded through her voice. “Julian or Joel would have seen me if I had. They were behind me.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Yes.”
“But not of where you were seated. You know where two other people and—from previous statements—where the vic sat, but you can’t quite remember where you were.”
“I was here.” Agitated, Valerie slapped her finger on the tablet.
“Now you’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“You were seated here, but never noticed the light from the opening door.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“It’s funny, because I ran a reconstruction and putting myself in this seat—the seat you’re now sure you used—I sure as hell noticed the brief wash of light from the door.”
“Obviously you’re more observant than I, or more sensitive to a change in light.”
“That must be it. It couldn’t be that you’re lying.”
Valerie tried for insulted, but that panic slipped through again. “I don’t have any reason to lie.”
“You have your career. I bet it’s important to you. Moving on, you’ve also stated that you were at Joel Steinburger’s New York residence at the time of A. A. Asner’s murder. Are you sure about that?”
