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“What was K.T.’s problem with Marlo, because it’s obvious she had one.”
“All too obvious after that ugly remark at dinner. The bottom line?” Connie said, dry-eyed again. “K.T. was jealous of Marlo, disliked her for many reasons. Her looks, her talent, her charm, her popularity with not only fans but other industry professionals. I think K.T. took a slap at you because you’re who Marlo is during this project. So what she feels for Marlo, she feels—felt—for you. I can’t get my tenses straight.”
She paused, pressed a hand to her mouth. “Past, present. It gets mixed up. I don’t know how to deal with this.”
“You’re doing fine.” Eve wound her through the evening as Mira came back in.
“God. Thank you,” Connie said as Mira set a cup of coffee in front of her.
“Your husband added a splash of brandy.”
“He knows me.”
“Do you remember seeing K.T. leave the theater?” Eve asked her. “Or anyone else leave during the screen show?”
“I’d seen the gag reel, so I slipped out during the opening credits, went in to talk to the caterers. I was in the kitchen for a little while.” As she sipped the coffee, Connie creased her forehead. “I came in toward the end, slipped over to the buffet to make sure we had enough out for post-screening. I didn’t see anyone go in or come out as I did.”
“What about when the lights came up? Was everyone there?”
“K.T. wasn’t. I know that because I’d been keeping an eye on her. She’d been drinking too much, and I didn’t want another scene. I’d planned on getting her out, into a car, and gone, but she wasn’t in the theater.”
“Was anyone else missing?”
“I’m not sure. My focus was on her because of what happened earlier, and the way she’d been stewing. I wasn’t going to risk another scene. I started to go out, see if she’d gone home or was still in the house, but Valerie waylaid me. She wanted a list of the desserts for a story she wanted to pitch on the evening. Then Nadine came up, and we started talking. I let it go.”
Eve caught sight of Roarke, gave him a subtle signal to come in.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
“It’s okay. We’re good here for now, Connie. I’ll send for someone else in just a minute.”
“Your sweepers and the morgue team arrived,” Roarke told Eve when he was alone with her and Mira. “They went up to the roof.”
“Let’s move this along. Tell Peabody I want her to take Roundtree, Dennis Mira, and the publicist, in any order, in some other location. That leaves me with Andrea Smythe and the asshole producer and Nadine. We’ll take Julian together last. When we’re nearly there,” she said to Mira, “you could get some Sober-Up in him for me. No point in talking to a drunk.”
She was a cunt.” Eyes alert, Andrea chugged down coffee. “It’s a term I use for particularly nasty people of either sex, and she was a world-class cunt. I disliked her in the part because I found the character of Peabody so appealing. Water was never wet enough for K.T.”
She paused a moment, smiled. “And that was a very poor choice of words, considering.” She threw back her head and laughed. “I don’t give a rat’s warty ass she’s dead. It only means she’s a dead cunt.”
“That’s a strong opinion.”
“And the only kind worth having. I threatened to shove a stick up her twat and light it on fire just yesterday. Maybe the day before. I lose track as there was rarely a day that went by she didn’t make me want to strangle her with my bare hands after I’d beaten her in the face with a rusty shovel.”
Andrea drank some coffee, smiled over the rim. “She tended to stay out of my way.”
“I bet.”
“I don’t mind being a suspect when the corpse is a shit-for-brains fuckwit, but if I’d killed her it would’ve been bloody and loud. And I’d have enjoyed it too much to keep it to myself.”
For the moment at least, Eve believed her. And cut her loose.
The minute Joel Steinburger strode in, he grabbed for the controls.
“We have to get a few things straight.”
“Do we?”
“Nothing can be released to the media until I, Valerie, or one of my people vets it. This feed has to be carefully massaged. I need my ’link. I can’t be out of contact with my people at a time like this. In addition, I need everyone here—that includes the staff, the police, all the guests—to sign a nondisclosure agreement. We can’t have some server running to the tabloids selling some twisted version of tonight, or some underpaid cop trying to line his pockets with a ’link vid of K.T. lying up there dead. I’m told you plan to have her taken to the morgue. We can’t have that.”
