“No, he didn’t get in. But you should know he’s been sent back to serve out his full sentence. By his own admission, he still believes you want and need him to save you.”
“From Brant,” she murmured. “Oh my God, if he somehow— You need to check the security feed! Sylvie, if he hurt Brant—”
“We have checked. Crommell isn’t a suspect, Ms. Lane, and he’s no danger to you now.”
“How do you know for certain he didn’t kill Brant? He’s crazy. I was upset when I learned they were giving him parole, but Brant said he had three years of treatment, and deserved a chance. But—”
“I’m not going to say the treatment worked, but I will say he didn’t gain access to your apartment. We brought him in, and I had our top profiler and psychiatrist in the interview with us. She concurs. He heard about your husband’s death after the fact.”
One hand clutched at her throat. “You’re absolutely sure?”
“Our investigation is ongoing. If we turn up any evidence that implicates Crommell, we’ll act on it. But at this time, evidence points away from him. Take me through the rest, from when guests started to arrive.”
“Oh, well, we started with drinks. Passed champagne and wine. Mixed drinks at the bars. Then passed food. Oh, sorry, Grant—Grant Pfiffer, the pianist. He’d arrived before the guests—but after the caterers. We went over a playlist, though he’d take requests and so on. And I had him get some food before the guests arrived, as he’d play throughout the evening. He began shortly after the first guests got there. I’ve worked with Grant a number of times before. He’s marvelous.”
“All right.”
“Once we had, say, twenty people or so and more arriving, Brant and I mingled separately. But we try to keep an eye on each other, if you know what I mean. Sometimes you can get cornered, need an escape hatch.”
“Did that happen?”
“Actually, it did. One of the plus-ones latched on a bit longer than she should, but before I could catch Brant’s eye, Sylvie rescued me.”
Eliza tipped her head toward her friend’s shoulder.
“I know the signals, too,” Sylvie said, “so I wandered over, made some excuse, and drew Eliza back toward the foyer so she could have a break. Everyone was there by that time, and the party was in full swing, so we took a few minutes.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Oh, the party, my cheating ex—gone now. Then Brant came over with Eliza’s drink.”
“We stole a minute more,” Eliza continued. “The three of us have been friends a long time. And I said something stupid.” She tipped her head toward Sylvie’s again. “As soon as it was out of my mouth…”
“Don’t be silly.” Sylvie gave her a pat on the knee.
“What did you say?”
Eliza glanced at Eve, then laid a hand over Sylvie’s. “Something about cheating, and it was tactless considering Sylvie’s situation.”
“The cheating ex,” Sylvie explained, “who decided he wanted a younger, sleeker model.”
“As I can’t decide if that’s his loss or his stupidity, I’ll assume it’s both.”
Sylvie let out a quick laugh as she sparkled at Roarke. “Thank you, kind sir.”
“It’s not kind to speak truth.”
“It’s a struggle not to envy you,” she said to Eve, “so I’m giving it up. Eliza worries I’m still in love with him, which I was up until the moment I discovered he’d booked a flight for two and a villa on the French Riviera using my account.”
“What!” Eliza shot up straight. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I found out right before the party, and didn’t want to talk about it there. After … it didn’t seem very important. I handled it.” She patted Eliza’s knee again. “It only took contacting my lawyer. In any case, Eliza thought she’d hurt my feelings, which she hadn’t. But it upset her, so I pointed out it was time she gave the party some entertainment. Others had, and the room was full of talent. But—”
She wrapped her arm around Eliza in a hug. “There’s only one Eliza Lane.”
“We’re going to talk about this other thing later, in detail.”
“You handed your husband your drink,” Eve prompted.
“Yes, sorry. My mind’s all over the place. I’d already planned to bring Sam up at some point, do that particular duet, so I handed Brant the drink and went to get her.”
“You and Brant stayed where you were?”
“For another minute,” Sylvie agreed. “He kissed my cheek, said Mikhail—that’s the ex—was a fool. I wished him a safe, smooth flight to New Zealand, and promised I’d look after Eliza. Then Grant played a quick run on the piano, and Eliza introduced Samantha. We moved forward. I stayed back a bit—it was crowded—but Brant made his way to the front. He’d have known Eliza wanted to see him.”
“He would,” Eliza murmured. “He knew how much it meant to me to know he was there.”
“What else did you see?”
Eliza sent Eve a puzzled look. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Did you see anyone watching your husband more than you, for instance?”
“Oh. No … No, I didn’t. I saw him. He toasted us, Sam and me. I saw that, but honestly, for the most part the duet demands you play to your partner. Do I have to go through the rest again? The glass breaking, the scream?”
“No. Only if you remember anything more, or anything differently.”
“I don’t. I just don’t. Everything after the scream is a blur. And now I keep thinking I gave him a hard time.”
“About what?”
“Oh, leaving. The shoot. Just that morning I whined about it, asked him who’d rub my aching feet when I got home from rehearsal. And he said, ‘Dolby, of course,’ and made me laugh. He always made me laugh. He was a good man, that’s something you need to know. I can’t imagine anyone who’d want to hurt him.”
“What about you?”
“Me?” Shock ran across her face. “Hurt Brant?”
“No, who might want to hurt you? It was your drink, and it’s just a matter of timing that you didn’t drink it.”
“I know you asked before, but … I’m never going to claim I’m as kind or generous as Brant, but—”
“That’s not true.” Sylvie interrupted with a firm shake of her head. “You are kind, and generous. Brant’s more—was more—easygoing, no question. You didn’t have to include Samantha, do a duet last night. You did that to showcase her.”
“And for the revival,” Eliza added.
“You considered pulling out of that. If you did, who’d take your place? You’d have an understudy.”
“This far out, no. If I decided I couldn’t do it, they’d get another name, someone who’d create some buzz, excitement.”
“Anyone like that on your guest list?”
“Well … there’s Sylvie,” she said, and now Sylvie laughed.