Rapture in Death (In Death #4)(70)

“I have, and I might again. And Jess?” She flicked off the coded lock. “Don’t call me sugar.”

Eve glided in, nodded to a puzzled but attentive Peabody. “Have a seat,” she told Jess and moved directly to her desk.

“Nice milieu. Well, hi, sweetie.” He couldn’t for the life of him remember her name, but he beamed at Peabody as if they were old, dear friends. “Did you catch the act?”

“Most of it.”

He dropped into a chair. “So, what do you think?”

“I thought it was great. You and Mavis really put on a show.” She risked a smile, not at all sure what Eve wanted from her. “I’m ready to buy the first disc.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Can a guy get a drink in here?” he asked Eve. “I like to stay dry before a performance, and I’m more than ready to get wet.”

“No problem. What would you like?”

“That champagne looked good.”

“Peabody, there should be a bottle in the kitchen. Pour our guest here a glass of wine, will you? And why don’t you get us some coffee?”

She leaned back and considered. Technically, she should record from this point, but she wanted a lead-in before she went on log. “Someone like you, who designs music and the atmosphere surrounding it, has to be as much technician as artist, right? That’s what you were explaining to me before the performance.”

“That’s the way the business shakes down now, has for a lot of years.” He flicked one of his beautiful hands, braceleted with gold. “I’m lucky I’ve got an aptitude for both and an interest. The days of plucking out a tune on the piano or playing a riff on a guitar have gone the way of fossil fuel. Almost extinct.”

“Where’d you get your tech training? I’d have to say it’s way above run of the mill.”

He shot a fresh smile as Peabody came back with the drinks. He was comfortable, relaxed, and assumed he was in the middle of a kind of job interview. “On the job, mostly, a lot of late-night hacking. But I did a stretch of home ed with MIT.”

She already knew some of the data from Peabody’s make, but she wanted to lull him. “Impressive. You’ve made a name for yourself both in performance and design. Isn’t that right, Peabody?”

“Yeah. I’ve got all your discs, and I’m looking forward to something new. It’s been a while.”

“I heard that somewhere.” Eve picked up the ball Peabody was unaware she’d tossed. “Have a dry spell, Jess?”

“Not at all. I wanted to take my time perfecting the new equipment, putting together just the right elements. When I hit with the new stuff, it’s going to be something no one’s ever seen or heard before.”

“And Mavis is like a springboard.”

“In a manner of speaking. She was a lucky break. She’ll showcase some of the material that wasn’t right for me, and I’ve individualized some pieces to match her. I figure on doing some of my own sessions in a few months.”

“After everything’s in place.”

He toasted her, sipped. “Exactly.”

“You ever design soundtracks for VR?”

“Now and again. It’s not a bad gig, if the program’s interesting.”

“And I bet you know how to lay down subliminals.”

He paused, then sipped again. “Subliminals? That’s straight tech.”

“But you’re a damn good tech, aren’t you, Jess? Good enough to know computers in and out. And brains. A brain’s just a computer, isn’t it? Isn’t that what you told me?”

“Sure.” His focus was all for Eve so that he didn’t notice that Peabody had come to attention.

“And you’re into mood enhancements, which lead to mood shifts. Behavioral and emotional patterns. Brain wave patterns.” She took a recorder out of her desk, placed it in plain sight. “Let’s talk about that.”

“What the hell is this?” He set down his glass, scooted to the edge of his seat. “What’s the deal?”

“The deal is, I’m going to advise you of your rights, then we’re going to have a chat. Officer Peabody, engage backup recording and log on, please.”

“I didn’t agree to a f**king interview.” He got to his feet. Eve got to hers.

“That’s all right. We can make it obligatory, and take you to Cop Central. There might be a wait. I haven’t booked an interview room. But you won’t mind spending a few hours in lockup.”

Slowly, he sat again. “You turn cop fast, Dallas.”

“No, I don’t. I stay cop. Always. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve,” she began for the recorder, and fed in time and place before reciting the revised Miranda. “Do you understand your rights and options, Jess?”

“Yeah, I get it. But I don’t know what the hell this is about.”

“I’m going to make that very clear for you. You are being questioned in the matters of the unresolved deaths of Drew Mathias, S. T. Fitzhugh, Senator George Pearly, and Cerise Devane.”

“Who?” He looked convincingly baffled. “Devane? Isn’t that the woman who jumped off the Tattler Building? What am I supposed to have to do with suicide? I didn’t even know her.”