“I’m aware you’ve interrogated Rico, again.”
“Did he call it that? Gee, I thought we had a nice chat. Didn’t you, Peabody?”
“It was really interesting seeing them shoot that scene, too. I really enjoy your work on The Matriarch, Ms. Harrow. Your Nita is so layered and fascinating.”
“Why, thank you.” She sent Peabody a winning smile as she sat on one of the sofas. “I do find her challenging and rewarding to explore. Ah, James, just what I needed.”
He brought her a glass of pale gold wine.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“If you’d tidy up the bed. I don’t think I’ll be able to rest after this.”
“Of course.”
She sipped the wine as he started up the stairs.
“Despite the unfortunate incident in our history,” Vera began, “Brant and I had a history. The shock of his death, the suddenness and permanence of it, hit a kind of delayed reaction, I suppose. I had a key scene this morning for our first episode of the new season. I got up, started to get dressed, and simply couldn’t. It’s the first time I’ve ever canceled, but I couldn’t face it. Not today.”
“You were very open about holding a grudge regarding that unfortunate incident last night.”
“It didn’t seem altogether real. And I did hold a grudge. Do,” she added after another sip of wine. “People say ‘Forgive and forget.’ I say ‘Pay back and remember.’ But death … How do I needle Eliza now? She’s the widow. She, even more than Brant, will be the tragic figure in this, and if I point out she lured Brant out of my bed into hers, I’m the bitch. It means I’ll have to say sweet things about her, and that galls.”
She took a slug of wine and repeated, “That galls.”
“That’s your take on all this?” Eve wondered. “You’ll have to say sweet things about a woman you dislike so you don’t look bad?”
“That’s the reality of my position, and the blueprint for my public statements and behavior.” She curled up her legs. “I didn’t wish him dead. I could wish his career dead, wish him caught with his pants around his ankles and his cock in some ingenue. That won’t happen now. I didn’t want him, if that’s what you’re wondering. Good God, look at Rico. Half Brant’s talent, yes, but that body, that face. And the glory of youth. I didn’t want him,” she repeated, “but I hated she did. And the son of a bitch loved her.”
“And she him?”
“Eliza discards what she doesn’t want, and why not? Why keep what doesn’t work? The bitch loved him. She may have snagged him to slap at me—I’ll never know for certain—but she’d have used him up, tossed him back if she didn’t want him. I’m not an idiot, Lieutenant. And I observe. Good actors do, just as I imagine good cops do. They loved each other. It burned my ass, but they loved each other.”
“You were standing beside him when he drank the poison. You had an incident in your history you held on to like a lifeline. That’s motive and opportunity.”
“I didn’t want him dead,” she said flatly. “I’ll cut you, or anyone, to bloody ribbons with my tongue given the motive and opportunity. I’ll feed the gossip sheets nasty tidbits to humiliate you. They have to be true—I don’t lie because lies come back to bite you. And I once punched a director who thought I wanted a part bad enough to let him grope under my skirt. He threatened to have me fired and arrested for assault. I threatened to rip my shirt and scream rape.”
She smiled, thinly, at the memory.
“I kept the part; he didn’t try anything again. And a year later, when the opportunity arose, I tossed out some nasty tidbits. I hadn’t been the first, or the last, you see. It ruined him, made him a pariah. That’s how I pay back.”
She hissed out a breath. “But for his lapse in preferring Eliza, Brant was a decent man. I didn’t want him dead. In fact, my agent just started negotiations with Brant’s production company. They sent us a script a couple weeks ago. A rom-com, with teeth, and a damn good part. My agent was smart enough to send me the script without telling me where it came from. Or I’d have said fuck no without reading it—a mistake.”
“You were considering playing opposite Brant in a vid?”
“No, but God, that would’ve been delicious!” Her face actually lit up at the idea of it. “No, he’d produce. They’d already cast the male lead.”
“Did Eliza know?”
“I’m sure she did. Or if not, he’d have told her when I contracted.”
“How does she feel about you?”
“Smug.” This time she guzzled wine. “Bitch. Look, as of tomorrow, I’m going to have to say nothing but lovely things about both of them. My assistant’s already sent out a statement doing just that, and I’ll have to come up with those sweet things. No more subtle little jabs—and I’m so damn good at them. And the hell of it is, I’m sorry, deeply sorry, on a personal level he’s dead. I’m angry, deeply, someone took his life. Believe it or don’t, and you can tangle with my lawyers if you keep pushing.”
“You were standing next to him.” Eve held up a hand when Vera snarled. “And you were close to him—an embrace close—after he came from the terrace with the drink. Who else was? You observe,” Eve reminded her. “Tell me what you observed. Start with Brant coming in from the terrace with the drink.”
“Oh.” Shifting, Vera sipped more wine and looked, for the first time, engaged. “All right. I saw him with Lin at the terrace bar. Rico and I were chatting with Tessa, Tessa’s wife, and … Kurtis Walter—he’s with Stage and Screen. I saw Brant was directing, as he does, how the bartender should make what was clearly a champagne cocktail. Eliza’s drink.”
She ran a hand over her hair as if it would help her think.
“As I recall, I’d seen Eliza and Sylvie back near the foyer. I suppose Eliza was taking a break from mingling, or they may have had something to discuss. Obviously, Brant would have to cross the entire room to take her the drink, so wanting a moment, I drew Rico away a bit as Brant and Lin came inside.”
“Positioned yourself,” Eve commented.
“Yes, exactly. So I greeted Brant with an embrace. Long enough for photos if any of the entertainment media around grabbed the shot. And close enough to remind him why he used to call me the Bod.”
She smiled a little. “I keep in shape, Lieutenant. And these?” She gave her breasts a light tap. “One hundred percent real. He told me I looked amazing, as always—which was true. I said something about a lovely party, introduced him to Rico. Rico’s a serious fan, and actually said so. Brant told us to enjoy the party, said he’d find us again, but wanted to take Eliza her drink.”
“He said that—‘her drink’?”
“Yes. He moved on. I was careful not to watch. Others observe, too, and if I’d watched him move on, that would be remarked on. Rico got us both fresh drinks as one of the servers passed. We mingled a bit, there was Dirk Russell. He directed the pilot for my series, and directed Brant’s Oscar-nominated vid—the one your vid won.”