Celebrity in Death (33 page)

Thick woods, dim light, a rough track and a lot of undergrowth. The sort of place strange animals wandered. Animals with teeth.

She’d be more comfortable running through a dark warehouse full of homicidal chemi-heads.

Which was exactly why she’d gone against type. She’d work harder.

“Watch for pulses on the map, they’ll indicate obstacles or some element of trouble. Ready?”

“Okay.”

The roar of wind came up, whipped the trees as the scene came to life around her. She heard crashing—branches falling, and a kind of whoosh and pound that might have been a waterfall.

But what did she know?

Eve started off at a warm-up jog, chose the left fork on the track. Another, bigger crash, and a tree fell across the path only a few feet ahead of her. She vaulted over it, racked up a few points. Increased her pace.

She veered right, heard a rumbling, echoing growl, and decided to backtrack. She’d just take the longer route.

She ran flat out now, finding her rhythm, muscles warming.

She saw the narrow, swaying bridge ahead—rope and open planks—
with some gaps—over a wide chasm. A river, the color of mud, roared and churned below. She rushed the bridge, leaping over gaps, nearly crashed through when wood cracked under her feet.

Then the whole business began to vibrate. She thought,
Oh shit,
as frayed rope snapped, and the planks behind her tumbled down to splash into the swirling river.

She sprang up, snagged dangling rope and propelled herself forward. The surge of wind, speed, struck her, as exhilarating as it was terrifying. She landed hard—a jolt from ankles to knees—on a narrow ledge.

To the right, the ledge widened and stacked into rough stone steps. On which stood a howling pack of wolves. Even as she considered her options they began to slink forward.

She stopped, considering, and started climbing, dragging herself up the cliff face.

Sweaty, straining, she reached the top.

Reward,
the screen flashed.
You now have a knife.

She patted her hip, felt the sheath.

Frosty.

Panting a bit, she ran left, away from the wolves. Just as she found her rhythm again, something snaked around her ankle. The next thing she knew she hung upside down, dangling from a rope from a tree branch.

Somewhere, drums began to beat.

Probably cannibals, she thought. It would figure.

By the time she levered herself up—oh, her aching abs—and cut the rope, landed hard on the forest floor, the drums sounded a whole lot closer.

She caught her breath, glanced at the map to choose directions.

An arrow dug with a thwack into the tree an inch away from her braced hand.

She ran hard. Climbed a mountain of stones, fell into a bog, jumped off a cliff into a river to avoid a really big bear.

Her next reward—a flashlight—came in handy when dark fell like an avalanche.

Wet, winded, momentarily lost, she found herself surprised when the screen flashed
END TIME.

She pulled off her goggles, turned to Roarke, and was pleased to find him as winded as she.

Plus, she’d edged his score by three points.

“Apparently I have a broken arm,” he told her. “It cost me.”

“I was nearly snack food for a bear, and lost my knife when I fell into a bog. That was fun.”

He grinned. “It was. Want another thirty?”

She’d planned on an hour, she reminded herself. So why not?

“You’re on. I want a quick swim after, then I’ve got work. Questions. Lots of them. Maybe if I bounce some off you, you’ll have an answer.”

“All right then. Loser deals with dinner. I’ve a mind for red meat after this.”

“Again, you’re on.”

“From the beginning, or where we left it?”

“Where we left it.”

A
t the end of thirty, she slid down to the floor—limp.

“I was attacked by a pig.”

“A boar,” Roarke corrected.

“A mutant pig. I always knew there were mutant pigs with really sharp teeth in the woods. Why do people like to go there? And there was a meadow. Pretty. It looked safe. Snakes. I should’ve known there’d be snakes.”

“I had a machete. It came in handy.” Seated beside her, he studied the tallies. “Make my steak rare, would you, darling?”

“Crap. I was kicking ass here until the pig. Fucker cost me the game. And neither of us got to the goal.”

“Next time.” He pushed to his feet, offered her his hand. “Still want that swim?” he asked as he pulled her up.

“I had one. In a river. With jagged rocks. There may have been alligators.” She rolled her shoulders. “Hell of a workout, though.”

She grabbed a shower instead of a swim. And fair being fair, put the meal together. With fair being fair, she put it together in her office. But didn’t object when Roarke opened a bottle of wine.

They’d earned it.

“So.” She took a long, slow drink. “Could you say who you heard, maybe who you didn’t hear, while we were in the theater watching the gag reel?”

“Not for certain, no. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Me either. That part of my to-do list was mostly a bust. I talked to an LC Asner used for palship and sex.”

“Always nice to have sex with a pal.”

“She has sex with her pal the afternoon Asner was murdered, then made him a sandwich.”

“Now that is a pal.”

“Says the man eating steak.”

“Where’s my sex?”

“You ought to be able to find it.” She sent him an easy smile. “So, Asner told the sandwich-making LC he’d decided to play something straight, even though it might put him in a squeeze.”

“Interesting. Do you think he’d decided to turn over the recording?”

“Maybe. Piecing together his state of mind—from his secretary, conversations he had with his lawyer friend, and now this—I’m leaning
toward him learning his client, who I’m betting he made as Harris, had been murdered, which caused him to rethink any possible bonus round with the recording. Play it straight, turn it in, retire, and move to the islands.”

“But end up dead instead.”

“Yeah. His sex pal said he got tagged on his ’link right before he left. She didn’t hear the conversation, except that he agreed to meet the caller in his office that night at ten.”

“Indicating his killer contacted him.”

“Exactly. Indicating the killer knew about him, and how to contact him.”

“From Harris’s ’link?”

It was good to have someone who connected the dots. “That’s my bet. He arranges the meet, kills Asner, hauls out the files and electronics—covering all the bases. People kill for all sorts of strange reasons, but I’m not buying this is over that recording.”

“You think Asner—through Harris, or vice versa—had something on the killer.”

“Something he intended to turn over along with the M and M recording, yeah. Or the killer was afraid he would. Digging into dirt, that was Harris’s MO, and that’s what fits. Her brother came to see me today.”

They ate as she told Roarke about the conversation.

“It’s a sad commentary on a life, isn’t it?” he commented. “She not only turned against those who loved her, but used them for her own gain. She’d rather have had that gain, wield that power, than have real affection, real friendship.”

“Did she choose to be like her father, or was she just like him?”

Roarke laid a hand over hers. “You’re living proof of the power of choice.”

“Mostly I believe that’s how it works. You decide. Like the workout game. Go right, go left, up or down, and deal with the results. So, yeah, I think she made the choices. I think she believed she liked it that way. But she wasn’t happy. You could see she wasn’t happy with the choices.”

“Yet she continued to make them.”

“Until someone chose to kill her. It wasn’t Roundtree or Connie. I’m saying—at least with what I have now—it wasn’t Marlo or Matthew. It wasn’t Preston.”

“You’ve narrowed your list considerably.”

“The killer opened the pool dome.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he or she tried to close it. If Harris had opened it, there’d be no reason for the killer to close it. None I can see. The dome was partially open when we discovered the body.”

“I remember that, yes.”

“It’s acting up, doesn’t close properly unless you turn it off and on again. The killer didn’t know. Connie would have, as she used the pool daily.”

“Are you thinking someone came in from the outside?”

She paused with a fry halfway to her mouth. “Outside what?”

“The dome, darling.”

“Shit. Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. How would they get up there?”

“All manner of ways,” he said, smiling. “Sometimes the best way to get in is to go down. A remote to open the dome, a weak spot security-wise, I’d imagine.”

“You’re thinking like a B-and-E man.”

“Not anymore. Or only in the service of my wife.”

“Ha. I’ll have to run probabilities now that you put it in my head, but I don’t think anybody came from out or up. I think the killer opened the dome from the inside. Harris had or was smoking those doctored
herbals, and six of them would put up a hell of a cloud in a smallish, enclosed area. She couldn’t have been up there long, but there were six butts.”

“Enclosed dome, smoke. Yes, I can see that. He wanted the fresh air. Or she. You seem to be down to two of each. Julian and Steinburger, Andrea and Valerie.”

“Or a combination thereof. Somebody could be covering for somebody. And I’m looking at Steinburger and Valerie, as—as far as I know—they’re the only ones lying to me. She’d be more likely to cover for him than him for her.”

“Unless she knows too much about him, things he’d prefer didn’t get out. He might be willing to cover for her then.”

“Yeah. They used to bang, and people tend to blab after a bang.”

“I’ll be sure to guard my tongue.”

“It’s usually tired from all the work during the bang,” she pointed out, and made him laugh.

“True enough.”

“What I can’t get is—saying it is Steinburger. Why kill her? I mean, lots of reasons, sure, but why now? Why not string her along, pay her off, do what she wants until the project’s complete? He’d have given himself a major headache by offing one of his own stars.”

“The boar or the river,” Roarke said. “Neither choice is particularly pleasant, but you have to make one. Sometimes under pressure.”

“That’s good.” Eve pointed at him. “That’s pretty good. On one hand you’ve got the mutant pig with the big, sharp teeth who wants to chew your leg off. On the other, the river with jagged rocks where you may or may not bash yourself into bloody pieces.”

“Most people jump.”

“Because the threat from the mutant pig is more immediate. Better
to take your chances with the water and rocks. But better altogether to kill the mutant pig, then stroll away on dry land.”

“I’m beginning to wish I’d suggested pork instead of steak.”

When she laughed, he topped off her wine.

“Easy on that,” she said. “I’m going to switch to coffee. I have to dig into Steinburger and Valerie. If I’m right and they’re in this, there’s something to be found. If a PI can find it, I sure as hell can.”

“I have every faith, and so have faith you can handle a glass and a half of very nice Cabernet. Tell me why you’ve zeroed in on Steinburger. It’s not just because he wasn’t truthful.”

“If you lie to a cop, you’ve got a reason. Often the reason’s stupid, but it’s there. More, he went on the offensive in the first interview.”

“And offense is defense.”

“There you go. Add one more. This has been about power and control. Hers against the freaking world from what I can tell. Who has the most power and control on this project—in the industry—among the players we’ve got?”

“The one with the money. It’s nearly always the case.”

“Yeah, being a rich bastard, you’d know.”

“Naturally.”

“Steinburger’s the one with the money. He owns the production company, and has the longest, shiniest rep. He’s labeled one of the most powerful men in Hollywood.”

“You’ve been reading the trades.”

“Know your turf,” Eve said. “He likes the spotlight, does a lot of publicity, pumps on the hype. And he’s a liar, he’s defensive, he’s the hand on the money wheel. He’s also got a young, attractive liar at his disposal in Valerie. It’s enough for me to choose that direction.” She smiled again. “Even if I fall into a bog.”

ROARKE LINGERED OVER HIS WINE WHILE EVE
updated her board.

She seemed relaxed in the work, and despite the manner of her waking that morning more rested than she’d been since their return from Dallas.