Celebrity in Death (In Death #34)(10)

“You know I will. She’s magnificent,” Marlo said when Connie walked toward the Miras. “She’s the classiest actor, and woman, I know. She and Roundtree have been married—first time for both—for over twenty-five years. That’s a good run for anybody, but a miracle in our business, especially when both are in the business.”

Then she stared over Eve’s shoulder, blinked. “Oh my.”

“Ladies.”

“Roarke,” Eve said by way of introduction.

“It certainly is. They didn’t get the eyes. Close, but not quite. Sorry. Julian and I have been working together for months now, and I’ve gotten used to thinking of him as you. But now here you are.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I admire your work.”

“You’re here.” Peabody, girls rising proudly over a bodice of stars scattered on midnight, rushed over. “We were getting the tour of the house, which is seriously uptown.”

“Peabody.” Roarke took a flute off a tray and offered it. “You look delicious.”

“Oh my God,” Marlo said under her breath as Peabody flushed and beamed.

“Thanks. This is so exciting. We’re having the best time.”

Beside her, Ian McNab grinned. His version of fancy dinner wear ran to a pumpkin-colored shirt, a lime green suit, and high-top skids that matched the shirt. His blond hair was pulled back from his thin, attractive face in a long tail, leaving the dangle of gold loops on his ear to glint in the light.

Eve started to speak when a man stepped to Peabody’s other side. He wore his blond hair pulled back in a long tail, leaving his thin, attractive face unframed. His suit, shirt, tie were all the color of night fog, and fit his slim frame perfectly.

“McNab, that’s what you’d look like—almost—if you dressed like an adult human.”

“Pretty tight, huh?” McNab said and chomped into the canapé he’d snagged from another tray.

“Matthew Zank, in the role of Detective Ian McNab.” He held out a hand to Eve. “Sir.”

The quick charm made Eve smile. “Dallas will do.”

“Hey, everybody!”

As Eve turned at the familiar voice, Mavis flashed a camera. “Mag! I’m making an a-s-s of myself, but I want pictures.”

“The kid’s not here,” Eve reminded her. “You don’t have to spell ‘ass’.”

“Habit. Ass, ass, shit, f**k. God that felt good. Anyhow, Leonardo’s huddled with Andi about her dress for the premiere. Did you meet her yet?” Like McNab, Mavis snagged a canapé. “Andrea Smythe aka Doctor Mira. She doesn’t look so much like Mira tonight ’cause, wow, I’ve never seen Mira wear a black skin-suit, or heard her curse in Brit.”

“Andi’s got the pottiest of potty mouths,” Marlo explained. “Part of her charm, which she has in spades. Everybody adores Andi.”

“She makes Leonardo blush. It’s so totally cute.” Mavis popped the canapé in her mouth.

“That’s a Leonardo, isn’t it?”

At Marlo’s question, Eve looked blank.

“Yes,” Roarke answered for her.

“It’s fabulous. I know from my research clothes aren’t your thing, which is where we part ways. I love them. Clothes, shoes, bags, shoes, and more shoes. Just can’t get enough.”

“We can never be friends,” Eve said solemnly, and made Marlo laugh.

“I’m not half the clotheshorse Julian is.”

“Something else he and Roarke have in common.” Eve glanced around. “He’s not here? I don’t think I’d miss him.”

“Always late. He’s bringing Nadine.”

“Really?”

“Who knows,” Marlo said with a shrug. “K.T.’s not here yet either, so—”

“Both our stars. Valerie, get a picture. Joel Steinburger.” The tall, robust man with steely hair and hard black eyes pumped Eve’s hand like a well handle, then turned, gripped her shoulder, bared his teeth at the woman with the camera. “This is a pleasure, a pleasure.” Baring his teeth again, he hooked his free arm around Marlo’s waist, pulled her in. “How did you enjoy your visit to the set today—better late than never! Preston tells me Detective Peabody is going to do a cameo for us. Delighted. We’ll get you in there, too.”

“No,” Eve said.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll see you get the full glamour treatment. Who doesn’t want to be a vid star for a day?”

“Me.”

“We’ll talk.” He winked at her, but those black eyes bored in. “Valerie’s handling the public relations and media for the project. The two of you have to set up lunch, discuss promotion.”

“No,” Eve repeated, glanced at the pretty woman with milk chocolate skin and tiger’s eyes. “Sorry, but I don’t do lunch or promotion.”

“Valerie will handle everything, make it fun for you. Word is you don’t have an agent or manager. Saves some time without the middlemen. We’re going to need you for a couple of days for the extras for the home discs, but the cop look. No glamour there. The audience wants the real you.”

“Does the word no ring any bells?”