Witness in Death (In Death #10)(65)

"He's talking with Marcina, one of the top screen producers in the business. Could be your boy is hoping for a career shift."

"Less than a week ago, the stage was his life. Interesting. Let's see how he holds up."

She worked her way over, noted the instant Proctor saw her. His eyes widened, his head drooped, and his shoulders hunched in. Presto-chango, Eve thought, from debonair leading man to fumbling second lead in a blink. The magic of theater.

"Proctor."

"Ah, ah, Lieutenant Dallas. I didn't realize you'd be attending."

"I get around." Deliberately, she scanned the theater. "I guess Quim can't expect this kind of send-off."

"Quim? Oh." He had the grace, or the skill, to flush. "No, no, I suppose not. Richard was... he was known and respected by so many people."

"A lot of them sure are toasting him." She leaned over, studied the pretty bubbles in the glass he held. "With premium champagne."

"He would have expected no less." This from the woman Roarke had identified as Marcina. "This event suits him perfectly." She shifted her gaze over Eve's shoulder, then beamed. "Roarke! I wondered if I'd see you here."

"Marcina." He stepped up, lightly kissed her cheek. "You're looking well."

"I'm very well. Dallas," she said after a moment, and pinned Eve with her sharp gaze. "Of course. This must be your wife. I've heard a great deal about you, Lieutenant."

"If you'll excuse me," Proctor said.

"Don't run off on my account," Eve told Proctor, but he was already edging away.

"I see a friend." He dived into the crowd like a man leaping overboard.

"I assume you're on duty?" Marcina skimmed a glance over Eve's trousers and serviceable jacket. "You're investigating Richard's death."

"That's right. Would you mind telling me what you and Proctor were talking about?"

"Is he a suspect?" Lips pursed, Marcina looked over to where Proctor had disappeared. "Fascinating. Actually, it was shop talk. Michael has the right look for a screen project I'm putting together. We were discussing the possibility of him coming out to New L.A. for a few days."

"And is he?"

"Perhaps. But he's committed to his current play. He's quite looking forward to taking Richard's place onstage. Not that he put it quite so tactlessly. My people will be talking to his people, as it were, over the next week or two to see if we can work something out. He hoped that the theater will reopen very soon."

The minute Eve stepped outside, she took a deep gulp of air thick with the stink of smoke from glide-carts, screaming with the noise of street and air traffic. She preferred it over the sweetly perfumed air inside.

"Proctor isn't letting Draco get cold before he steps into his shoes."

"He sees an opportunity," Roarke commented.

"Yeah. So did the killer."

"Point taken." He traced a fingertip over the dent in her chin. "I might be a little late tonight. I should be home by eight."

"Okay."

"I have something for you."

"Oh, come on." When he reached in his pocket, she stuffed her hands in hers. "This isn't the time or place for presents."

"I see. Then I guess I'll just keep this for myself."

Instead of the jewelry case she'd expected, he pulled out a jumbo chocolate bar. Her hand whipped out of her pocket, snatched it.

"Then again," Roarke murmured.

"You bought me a candy bar."

"I know the way to your heart, Lieutenant."

She tore off the wrapping, bit in. "I guess you do. Thanks."

"It's not dinner," he said with a narrowed eye. "But if you can hold off, we'll have some together when I get home."

"Sure. You got transpo?"

"I'll walk. It's a nice day." He caught her face, kissed her before she could tell him not to.

Chewing her candy, she watched him walk away. And thought she understood exactly what Peabody meant by the love of a lifetime.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Mira studied the record of the interview with Kenneth Stiles. She sipped her tea while Eve paced. In another five minutes, she would have been on her way home. Eve had caught her as she'd been locking up.

Now she would be late. That thought shifted through the back of her mind as she focused on the interview. Her husband would understand, particularly if she made a quick detour on the way and picked up a carton of his favorite ice cream.

She'd learned long ago the tricks and balances of blending a demanding career and a successful marriage.

"You and Feeney are an excellent interview team," she commented. "You read each other well."

"We've been doing it awhile." Eve wanted to hurry Mira along but knew better. "I think he's been practicing that hard-ass look in the mirror."

That brought out a smile. "I imagine so. Given his comfortable face, it's surprisingly effective. Am I correct in assuming you don't believe Stiles told the whole truth?"

"Are you ever wrong?"

"Now and again. You're looking for this Anja Carvell?"