Celebrity in Death (In Death #34)(40)

“I’d say the odds are good she had a godson who was in the same rehab as K.T., that they went to group together. That K.T. recognized him when he came to visit the set.”

“So we bump her down the list.”

“No, we don’t. I believe ‘f*ck off, you ugly cunt’ were likely the last words Andi said to K.T. Harris. But she may very well have said them to her on the roof, right after she rolled an unconscious Harris into the pool.”

“Aw, man.”

“Family’s the weak spot, and Harris zeroed in, stuck a shiv in it. So, yeah, maybe Smythe pushed back—Go on, spill it, bitch, and it’ll be worse for you. Harris is drunk and aggressive, and they take it up to the roof. Smythe doesn’t want this confrontation public. It escalates. Hell, maybe Harris got physical first, but when Harris goes down, Smythe’s enraged, had her fill. Drags Harris into the pool, mops up the blood, and goes down for another drink. And the world, as she sees it, is minus one cunt.”

“Do you really think she could do it?”

“I think she’s got the balls for it, yeah. I don’t know whether she’s got the cold. But she stays on the high side of the list.”

They took Matthew next. He struck a casual note with a dark green shirt over a lighter tee with jeans and high-top skids. He jumped on Peabody’s offer of a drink, opted for a citrus cooler. He studied the two-way-mirror wall, shifted his butt on the chair.

“I always wondered what it felt like in one of these rooms. It feels nervous. Like the air’s just a little too thin.”

“Do you have something to be nervous about?” Eve asked him.

“When a cop wants to talk to you in a room like this, you’re going to be nervous. That’s part of it, right? The interviewee is already a strike down at the plate.”

He took a swallow of his cooler. “Do you think I can get a look at EDD while I’m here? I was setting that up with McNab before … before.”

“I’ll check with Captain Feeney.” Casual dress and attitude, Eve thought. She’d play on that. “How are you doing, Matthew?”

“Okay. No, not really. She was dead when I pulled her out of the water. I know it’s probably stupid, but it hit me later. She was dead when I pulled her out, when I gave her CPR, mouth-to-mouth. She was dead the whole time. My head keeps going back to that. Not that I tried, but that she was dead the whole time.”

“And the two of you had once been intimate.”

“Yeah. I knew the shape of her body, the feel of her skin, her mouth. And last night, I touched her, put my mouth on her. And she was dead. But she … felt the same. I can’t get past it.”

“You said last night you hadn’t been involved sexually for several months.”

“That’s right.”

“But she wanted to be.”

“I think she just wanted what she couldn’t have. Some people are wired that way. Maybe.”

“It had to put you on the spot, especially since you were playing lovers.”

“I wouldn’t say she made it easy, but she had a lot of ambition. She wouldn’t screw up the work to screw with me.”

“You said she wrecked your trailer.”

“Yeah.” He took another swallow. “Had to be. She didn’t even want me or care about me that way—not really. She just …” He shrugged. “I should’ve let her break it off. Looking back, I wish I’d held out until she dumped me. Then she wouldn’t have stayed so pissed.”

“The way you talked last night made it sound as if she was obsessed. In fact, I believe you used that term.”

“I don’t know.” His gaze, green as his shirt, flicked to the two-way glass again. “I guess, sort of. I think she just didn’t like not being the one calling it off. When I think about it,” he continued, “she had more grease than I do, career-wise. She could’ve pushed to have someone else cast as McNab. Maybe she figured we’d hook up during the shooting, then she could dump me. I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m thinking about it. She’s dead.”

“It couldn’t have gone over well with her when you and Marlo started sleeping together.”

His face went blank, utterly, as he set down his drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t know you’re sleeping with Marlo Durn, or you don’t understand the term?”

“Listen, I don’t know where you got that information, but—”

“Are you denying it?” Eve flattened her voice. “Because lying to a police officer in Interview doesn’t go over well. It just makes us all suspicious and pushy.”

He hesitated, shifted. “My relationship with Marlo doesn’t have anything to do with K.T.—or anybody. It’s personal.”

“You and Marlo romping on the sheets doesn’t have anything to do with a woman who, by your own statement, was obsessed with you? Stalked you? Vandalized your trailer? Does that fly for you, Peabody?”

“It doesn’t even get off the ground.” Peabody’s tone, her expression radiated soft sympathy. “I’m sorry, Matthew. It’s awkward and uncomfortable when you have to talk about private business, but if you try to avoid and evade, it just looks bad. The way I see it, you and Marlo are both adults, both free to, you know, enjoy each other.”