Immortal in Death (In Death #3)(37)

“Yes.” If they’d been lovers, as reported, Eve decided he’d gotten over his grief quickly. A police interview apparently didn’t affect him, either. He was composed, the genial host in a five-thousand-dollar linen suit and melted-butter Italian loafers.

He was, Eve mused, undoubtedly as screen friendly as any of the actors he worked with. A strong, bony face the color of fresh honey was accented with a well-trimmed, glossy moustache. His dark hair was slicked back and twisted into a complicated queue that dangled to his shoulder blades.

He looked, Eve decided, like what he was: a successful producer who enjoyed his power and wealth.

“I’d like to record this, Mr. Redford.”

“I’d prefer that, Lieutenant.” He leaned back into the embrace of the sad-eyed hound and folded his hands on his stomach. “I heard you’ve made an arrest in this matter.”

“We have. But the investigation is ongoing. You were acquainted with the deceased, known as Pandora.”

“Well acquainted. I was considering a project with her, certainly had socialized with her on a number of occasions over the years, and when it was convenient, had sex with her.”

“Were you and the victim lovers at the time of her death?”

“We were never lovers, Lieutenant. We had sex. We did not make love. In fact, I doubt there was a man alive who ever made love to her, or attempted to. If he did, he was a fool. I’m not a fool.”

“You didn’t like her.”

“Like her?” Redford laughed. “God, no. She was the singularly most dislikable human being I’ve ever known. But she did have talent. Not as much as she believed, and none at all in certain areas, and yet…”

He lifted his elegant hands; rings sparkled: dark stones in heavy gold. “Beauty is easy, Lieutenant. Some are born with it, others buy it. An attractive physical shell is moronically simple to come by today. It’s still desired. Pleasing looks never fade from fashion, but in order to make a living from those looks, a person has to have talent.”

“And Pandora’s was?”

“An aura, a power, an elemental, even animalistic ability to exude sex. Sex has always, will always sell.”

Eve inclined her head. “Only now we license it.”

Amused, Redford flashed her a smile. “The government needs its revenue. But I wasn’t referring to the selling of sex, but of using it to sell. And we do: everything from soft drinks to kitchen appliances. And fashion,” he added. “Always fashion.”

“And that was Pandora’s particular specialty.”

“You could drape her in kitchen curtains, point her toward a runway, and reasonably intelligent people would open their credit accounts wide to have that look. She was a saleswoman. There was nothing she couldn’t peddle. She wanted to act, which was unfortunate. She could never be anyone but herself, but Pandora.”

“But you were working on a project with her.”

“I was considering one where she would essentially play herself. Nothing more, nothing less. It may have worked. And the merchandizing from it… well, that’s where the profits would have poured in. It was still in the planning stages.”

“You were at her home the night she died.”

“Yes, she wanted company. And, I suspect, wanted to rub Jerry’s nose in the idea of starring in one of my films.”

“And how did Ms. Fitzgerald take it?”

“She was surprised, irritated, I imagine. I was irritated myself as we were far from ready to go public. We might have had an interesting scene over it, but we were interrupted. The young woman, the fascinating young woman who arrived on the doorstep. The one you’ve arrested,” he said with a gleam in his eye. “The media claim you’re very close friends.”

“Why don’t you just tell me what happened when Ms. Freestone arrived?”

“Melodrama, action, violence. Picture this,” he said and moved his hands to form the age-old sign for a screen. “The young, brave beauty comes to plead her case. She’s been weeping, her face is pale, her eyes desperate. She will step aside, give up the man both of them want, to protect him, to do what’s best for his career.

“Close up on Pandora. Her face is filled with rage, disdain, a manic energy. Christ, the beauty. It’s almost evil. She won’t be satisfied with sacrifice. She wants her opponent to feel pain. Emotional pain first, by the cruel names she hurls, then physical pain by striking the first blow. Now you have the classic struggle. Two women locked in combat over a man. The younger woman has love on her side, but even that isn’t a match for the strength of Pandora’s vengeance. Or her sharpened nails. Fur, shall we say, flies, until the two male members of our fascinated audience step in. One of them is bitten for his pains.”

Redford winced and rubbed his right shoulder. “Pandora sank her fangs into me as I was dragging her off. I have to say I was tempted to punch her myself. Your friend left. She tossed off some typical cliche about Pandora being sorry, but she looked more miserable than vindictive.”

“And Pandora?”

“Energized.” And so was he with the telling of the tale. “She’d been in a dangerous mood all evening, and it was only more treacherous after the bout. Jerry and Justin bowed out, with more dispatch than grace, and I stayed behind awhile to try to bring Pandora down.”