Secrets in Death (In Death #45)(62)

Eve struggled to find patience as people swarmed again, as cameras reangled to record the same scene from the front, the side.

Someone brought the star a cup of something that steamed as she consulted with a plump woman in combat boots.

“Now,” Eve told Toothy Grin, “or I’m having the barricades removed.”

“You can’t do that!”

She shoved the badge in his face. “Can you read that?”

His face reflected a lot more annoyance than fear, and so did the finger he jabbed at her. “You just wait here!”

Eve thought, Bullshit, and followed him as he strode indignantly through the crew and equipment.

“Clarice, there’s a cop back there who—”

“I’m right here. Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD. My partner and I need to speak with Miss Durante. Now.”

“Clarice Jenner, director, and we’re in the middle of shooting a key and very emotional scene. Miss Durante can’t be disturbed.”

“It’s all right, Clarice. Can I have five?” With tears still drying on her face, Missy Lee smiled, rubbed a hand over Clarice’s arm. “Just five.”

Clarice shot Eve one hard, angry look. “Clear back. Take five.”

Missy Lee kept the smile on her pert, pretty face, sipping from the go-cup until everyone was out of earshot. “I’ve sort of been expecting you—or somebody with a badge. I can’t talk about this here, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d make this look like a fan moment. A lot of people depend on me and this show.”

“Then why don’t we clear this up?”

“Have you got something to write on?”

At Eve’s glance, Peabody pulled out one of her cards. Missy Lee took it and dug a small pen out of her coat pocket. “I’m writing down an address, and a time. I’ll meet you there,” she continued with her smile still beaming. “I’m going to bring my lawyer. I’m entitled to that.”

“You are. I’ll give you this, Miss Durante. But if you’re not where you say when you say, that’ll change. It won’t look like a fan moment.”

“I’ll be there. I want to clear this up. I just want to clear it up quietly.” Her eyes, summer blue in winter’s bite, met Eve’s straight on. “I know who you are, both of you. If the book and vid weren’t bullshit, I figure I can trust you. But if I don’t get back to work, we’re going to run into overtime, and the producers are going to scream.”

She held out a hand, shook Eve’s, shook Peabody’s.

“Ah, it’s Tad, right?”

Missy Lee laughed, a quick, infectious gurgle. “Yeah. He dumped me, with mega humiliation.”

“He’s a prick.”

“He really is. I gotta go.”

Eve let her walk back to the hair and face fussers, and moved with Peabody through the crew under the twin glares of Clarice and Toothy Grin.

“Check the address on the card,” Eve told Peabody. “What it is, where it is, who lives or works there.”

They’d reached the end of the barricade when Peabody stopped dead. “It’s Tad!” Absolute shock covered her face.

“The fictional prick?”

“It’s Tad,” Peabody repeated. “Marshall Poster, who plays Tad. It’s his place—Upper West.”

Eve took the card, stuck it in her pocket. “I’ll take that going home. We’ll hit Knight next. You can run Tad—crap—Poster in the car.”

“Why would she want to meet us at his place? He’s a total dick.”

“Fictional, Peabody. He may be a dick in reality, which is why you’re going to run him.”

“She’s staying up late doing his assignments while he’s laughing behind her back and cruising with that little bitch Jade Potts.”

“Peabody.” Eve climbed into the car. “You’re going to have to get over it.”

“I had a crush on a guy like that when I was fifteen.” Peabody yanked out her PPC. “You never get over it.”

Eve let Peabody stew while she drove to Knight’s Midtown studio.

After a small parking nightmare, they joined the hordes crowded into the pedestrian walkway. Tourists bagging souvenirs or taking pictures, hanging over the rail to watch the skaters.

And presenting prime targets for street thieves.

Though she resented the time, Eve tripped one, sent him sprawling seconds after he’d lifted a purse stupidly left hanging from one of those baby-pushers while his partner neatly picked the wallet out of the probable father’s rear pocket because he was so busy taking a home vid.

“Hold him,” Eve ordered. “Call for a couple of beat droids.”

Then, as Peabody quickly put a boot on the fallen thief’s back, Eve fast walked after the partner, who strolled along projecting innocence.

Two arm spans away, Eve saw the body language change, go on alert. Communication, she thought, cursed as the thief broke into a sprint.

Fast, she’s fast, Eve concluded as the thief poured it on, bowling down pedestrians. Fast, Eve thought again as she leaped over a man who’d gone down flat on his back.

But Eve was faster.

She considered a tackle, opted to snag the thief by the collar of her coat. The thief was nearly quick and agile enough to spin right out of it, but Eve whipped her around, tangling her in her own coat.