“It was cruel of her,” Sylvie murmured.
“It was. True, but cruel. She’s had a few barbed things to say in the press about me trying to step into her shoes now, the way I did Leah’s. And how at least she’s still wearing hers.
“Well. God. I think I need more wine.”
“Why don’t I get that for you?” Roarke rose.
“Oh.” Sylvie gestured vaguely as she put an arm around Eliza. “On the counter in the kitchen.”
“I’ll find it.”
“Was she at the party?” Eve asked as Roarke went inside. “Maeve Spindal?”
“Oh, good God, no.” Eliza shuddered again, but theatrically. “I might have felt obliged if she’d been in New York, but fortunately, she’s in London, getting raves—and I’m forced to say probably well deserved—onstage in Lady Miss Diva. And there’s a title she also well deserves.
“Thank you,” she added when Roarke brought out the wine bottle. “I dedicated my first Tony to Leah, but I can’t, and haven’t, lived my life constantly questioning why and how I got the chance to earn it. She made a terrible choice. Maeve’s a viper, and I say that with some respect. But it’s been twenty-five years, and she wasn’t here.”
“Okay. I appreciate your time.” Eve rose. “You should know everyone we spoke with today in the course of the investigation offers condolences. Your doorman asked me to offer his.”
“Thank you. That matters. It just shows how loved Brant was. Please find who did this to him.”
“She won’t stop until she does,” Roarke said, and reached down for Eliza’s hand. “Please don’t hesitate to contact me if there’s anything I can do.”
“People say that, but I see you mean it.”
“Let me show you out.”
“No, that’s fine,” Eve told Sylvie. “We’ll show ourselves.”
11
“The wheels are turning.” Roarke tapped Eve’s head as they walked to the elevator.
“It weighs more she was the target.”
“I’m going to agree. By her own admission, she’s a controlling sort, one who micromanages. All the rest points to him as easygoing, friendly. She butts heads, he smooths feathers. And, yes, the drink was hers.”
They stepped into the elevator.
“Taking that route,” Eve continued, “we have Vera Harrow still on the list—on it either way, really. We have the director of her last vid, so I’ll follow up there. Maybe he wasn’t so much bygones as she seems to be. We have her ex-assistants, and I’m going to track them down. She has an ex-husband—in California, but. Fitzhugh’s got an ex, too, but she’s remarried and in Europe. Now there’s this Maeve Spindal, and the whole deal about the dead actress.”
She shot him a look. “How come you didn’t know about that?”
“I’ve failed in my duty to know all about all, even what happened in New York when I was roughly twelve and in Dublin.”
“Well, yeah. It’s got juice, and you usually have the juice. Anyway, something to look at. And this Gary—I’ll get that going, make sure the investigation didn’t miss anything back then. Maybe Feeney knows something.”
“Why don’t I drive?” They crossed the lobby. “And you can ask him.”
Henry had the door open for them. “You have a good evening now, Lieutenant, sir.”
As Eve got into the passenger seat, she shot Roarke another look.
“You slipped him another tip, didn’t you?”
Roarke just settled behind the wheel. “Is it home then?”
“Yeah, yeah. I need to talk to the director, the choreographer, some others, but I need to put this together.” She pulled out her ’link, tagged Feeney.
His rumpled face topped with his explosion of ginger hair filled the screen. He said, “Yo.”
“Yo back. Twenty-five years ago, Leah Rose, about eighteen years old, ruled accidental OD, found in her dressing room in the Crystal Gardens Theater before the opening of the Broadway musical Upstage.”
“Huh. Not my case, but yeah, I remember some of that. It’s how Eliza Lane got her big break, right? The wife’s a big fan. You caught Brant Fitzhugh. Damn shame. He made the kind of vids a guy could sit back with, crack a brew, and relax.”
“Do you remember the primary?”
Feeney blew his lips, rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s gonna be Holister, yeah, Holister and—shit—Wimbly. Holister put in his papers a few years back, moved to, I think, Florida. Wimbly, she may still be on the job, but—you know what, she moved to Bumfuck, Somewhere. Took a chief of police slot. I can find out.”
“I’ll find her. I’m going to dig up the files, have a look through.”
“You figure a connection with Fitzhugh?”
“Don’t know until I look.”
“I can get them faster. I’ll send them to you. Pills, wasn’t it? Pills and … vodka.”
“That’s the information I have. Take enough pills, mix with liquor, it’s like poison.”
Cop’s eyes met cop’s eyes as Feeney nodded.
“I see where you’re going. I’ll dig up the files for you.”
“Appreciate it.”
“Poisonings, so to speak,” Roarke said when she clicked off, “twenty-five years apart?”
Eve shrugged. “Maybe we’ll find more in between. But it’s the same play, going into the same theater, twenty-five years apart. So that connects again.”
“She loved him. No question she could act the part onstage, on-screen, but what I saw face-to-face? She loved him.”
“I won’t say no. But I’ll say I’ve put more than one person behind bars who loved the one they killed. ‘He cheated.’ ‘She was going to leave me.’ ‘He forgot my birthday.’ Whatever.”
“Any indication of any of those whatevers here?”
“Not yet. What do you know about Maeve Spindal?”
“A formidable stage actor. Musicals primarily. Her screen work wasn’t as well received, as she overplays. She sticks with the stage, where it is very well received.”
“And here’s Lane, well received in both, and now taking a part Spindal initially created. Could be a pisser.”
“Hard to poison someone from across an ocean.”
“Let’s make sure she didn’t take a side trip. Or there’s murder for hire—always a popular option. In any case, I’d like a conversation. She was there when Rose OD’d, and she’s not fond of Lane, so if there’s any dirt, she’d shovel it right up.”
She sat back as the gates opened. “A lot to chew on.”
“We’ll have a meal, and you can chew on that as well.”
The mention of a meal reminded her stomach she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Calculating, she decided not to mention it.
“I could eat,” she said instead. “After I get the updates done.”
“Fair enough.” He took her hand when they got out of the car. “That should give me time to have a quick look at Sylvie Bowen’s financials. If you’re considering Lane a suspect or a target, you’ll want more on her closest friend.”