“So he killed his wife’s brother for four rounds with a virtual pro. Good work.”
“Thanks. Anyway, we’re clear if you need any help on the Fitzhugh case.”
“We’ve got a suspect in Interview now. We’ll see how it goes.”
She found Peabody with Mira outside Interview B.
The department’s top shrink and profiler’s mink-tipped-in-sunlight hair framed her calm and lovely face. Her eyes, a soft and quiet blue, met Eve’s. Her lips curved—lips tinted a rose the exact shade of her suit. The suit had the sheen of silk and showed off good, shapely legs.
Eve supposed the shoes showed off the legs, too, but she’d never get voluntarily working all day on skinny stilts.
“Peabody’s catching me up. I’m still stunned by Brant Fitzhugh’s death.”
“Did you know him?”
“Not personally, but Dennis and I enjoyed his vids. I remember reading about Eliza Lane’s troubles with a stalker. I refreshed myself a little on the way here. Delusional, projecting an intimate relationship with her. One that has spanned numerous past lives. An eternal connection. You found a kind of shrine to her in his apartment?”
Eve pulled out her ’link to download the feed from her recorder. Held it out.
“Ah, yes. Classic.”
“Do you know Dr. Ivan Horowitz?”
“Yes, somewhat. Is he Crommell’s therapist?”
“He is, and pushed for the parole. He states Crommell had overcome his obsession with Lane—which, obviously, not even close—was nonviolent. Since he tried to stab me with a pair of scissors, I’m forced to disagree there, too.”
“I see.” Mira’s soft blue eyes could go to frosty ice. And did. “After the interview, I’ll contact Dr. Horowitz and give him my thoughts.”
“If it turns out he let Fitzhugh’s killer out of a cage, I’m going to have a few thoughts of my own to give him.”
Eve opened the door.
“Record on. Mira, Dr. Charlotte; Dallas, Lieutenant Eve; and Peabody, Detective Delia; entering Interview with Crommell, Ethan, on the matters of parole violation, assaulting an officer with a deadly weapon, and resisting arrest.”
“You opened my closet and didn’t have permission.”
“Thought it was the bathroom, for which you did give permission. You were read your rights, on record. Do you want me to go over them again, or do you understand your rights and obligations?”
“I understand fine, just fine. I was protecting my personal property.”
“You were protecting a closet lined with photographs of Eliza Lane, candles, flowers, and so forth by threatening to stab an officer with a pair of scissors?”
“That’s right. They’re my property.”
“You were recently released on parole from incarceration in a facility for the mentally and/or emotionally ill. You were, three years ago, convicted of stalking Eliza Lane, the actress, of harassing her, accosting her and her husband, Brant Fitzhugh, actor.”
“He was keeping us apart.”
“Fitzhugh kept you and Lane apart?” Eve spoke in pleasant, conversational tones. “How did he do that?”
“He blurred her memory of me. Sorcery.” He said the word in a horror-vid whisper. “Dark magic. He’s obsessed with her.”
“He’s obsessed. Okay, why did she file charges against you, and testify against you in court?”
Ethan rolled his crazy eyes. “Sorcery. Black magic. I’ve had to break the spell time and again, over our lifetimes.”
“How do you break the spell?” Mira asked him.
“Love, deep and true. Or white magic against the dark. Or in battle. We face this in different ways in every life. But Eliza and I share mind and heart, a bond that can never really be broken. Fitzhugh—as he calls himself in this life—will always fail, always fall. By my hand or hers.”
“His death, you believe, breaks the spell he has over her so her memory returns?”
He nodded at Mira. “Inevitably, until it all begins again. It can take years before we recognize each other, but the heart sees. She’s waiting for me now.”
“If she’s waiting for you,” Eve put in, “why didn’t you go to her? Why were you watching her vids in your apartment?”
“I had to finish the spell—the white magic. You interrupted me.”
Apparently, Eve thought, his white magic included masturbation.
“And he has minions guarding her.”
“Minions.”
“Oh yes.” Crommell nodded enthusiastically. “Those loyal to him. They surround her, and me. We have to carefully plan our escape. I know you’re one of them.”
“I’m a minion?”
He leaned toward her, crazy eyes, shaking finger. “I see you for what you are, but nothing you do will stop me.”
“Ethan, did you kill Brant Fitzhugh?”
He smiled slyly. “Which time?”
“This time. Last night.”
“I wasn’t given that privilege in this life. But I knew, I felt her break the chains. And I saw and heard, on-screen, that he’d fallen at last. Poison, they said. She’d used it before.”
“Eliza poisoned him?”
“She’s brave and strong, but he’s stronger. She can’t beat him with sword or fists. Though once she was able to slit his throat, and twice she ended him with a bullet. But poison and wiles are her usual weapon.”
“I thought he had her under a spell.”
“White magic.” Crommell hissed out an impatient breath. “I weakened his hold.”
“The altar to her,” Peabody supplied. “The candles, photos, flowers. White magic.”
“That’s right, that’s right, that’s right. The white, and our love, will always defeat the dark.”
“And what’s the plan now?” Eve wondered.
“We’ll wait until the time is right, and when it is, I’ll go to her, take her away where we can live the rest of this life together. And when the cycle of life ends for one, the other will take theirs so we begin again.”
“Have you been in Eliza’s apartment? In this lifetime,” Eve added.
“He keeps it guarded. Well guarded. Once I scaled her tower over the cliffs and we sailed out to sea to an island of our own. But the walls of her prison now are sheer.”
“Maybe you could get in wearing a disguise,” Peabody suggested.
“I tried, but the spell was so strong. They chased me away. I would die for her, but if I die, she dies. It’s our bond.”
“Maybe killing her this time around, you’d start the cycle over, have a better chance.”
His eyes widened at Eve. “I could never harm her!”
“There was a big party last night, a lot of people. You could’ve slipped in, broken the spell.”
“If I’d known, I could’ve tried. Fought my way through the guards and minions, beaten him in battle, and swept her away to safety. I would have tried. But this is better. You understand now. She broke the spell, and we’ll find our way back to each other.”
“It seems to me slipping in, going unnoticed, then getting close enough to add poison to his drink’s a better way. Slip out again and wait until it all simmers down to sweep her away.”