With her On Duty light engaged, she stepped out onto the sidewalk and the river of people navigating it.

  Restaurants and cafés with outdoor seating enjoyed a booming business, and it seemed to her people went into the shops as quickly as others came out with shopping bags.

  What did they do with all the stuff? she wondered. Didn’t they ever run out of room?

  She walked by a trio of women sipping wine at a table under an awning. Each one had a rat-size dog sitting in her lap, and shopping bags tucked under the table.

  Baskets of flowers hung from the posts that supported the awning, and the women’s easy laughter flowed on the summer air.

  A man strutted by wearing a panama hat and what she thought was a seersucker suit in pale blue. She judged him about fifty years senior to the woman on his arm in skyscraper heels, a white dress with a skirt about the size of a dinner napkin, a waist-length fall of glossy red hair—and a white rose tucked behind her ear.

  Not an LC, Eve concluded, but from the shopping bags on his other arm, he was definitely paying for the companionship.

  When she reached Proctor’s building, she pressed the intercom.

  “Four-oh-five.”

  “Lieutenant Dallas.”

  “Come right on up.”

  The door buzzed and she stepped into a small lobby that smelled like fake lemons. She might have preferred the stairs, but factored time and the fact the elevator looked reasonably safe.

  It carried her up to four, where Gary Proctor stood outside the open door of his apartment holding the hand of a kid—the boy type—of about six. Both had springy brown curls and big, soulful brown eyes. Music spilled out of the doorway, but more muted than it had been over the ’link.

  “Mr. Proctor.”

  “Yes.” He offered a hand. “Come in.”

  When she did, the kid stared up at her. “You’re a policeman?”

  She looked down to where he stood in baggy red shorts, a striped tee, and sneakers.

  “Yes.”

  “You get to arrest people?”

  “When I need to.”

  “You need to arrest my sisters.”

  He sounded so earnest, she played along. “What’s the charge?”

  “Corrine plays her music too loud, and Flora said I had poop breath, and I didn’t, either. And they’re girls.”

  “Those offenses fall beyond my jurisdiction and under parental authority.”

  He stared at her with those soulful eyes. “Huh?”

  “She said I’m in charge.” Gary gave the boy’s hair a ruffle. “If you go play in your room and don’t cause any trouble, I’ll talk Mom into pizza for dinner when she gets home from work.”

  “Yay!”

  The boy ran off in the direction of the music. A door slammed. Gary sighed.

  “When you’re six and outnumbered, being a girl is a crime against humanity. Have a seat. Can I get you something?”

  “No, I’m good, thanks. I appreciate you taking the time.”

  She sat on a chair, sky blue with a diamond pattern in cream in a comfortably disordered living area. The wide front window let light flood in. Family photos grouped with dust catchers on the open shelves that flanked it.

  Gary sat on the couch, pushed a couple of fussy pillows out of his way. “What is it,” he wondered, “about pillows? Travis and I are outnumbered—three to two—so pillows on the sofa, on the beds.”

  “I have no idea.”

  He smiled at her, an appealing, easy smile that showed a hint of dimple in his left cheek. He had an athletic body, a dancer’s body, Eve supposed. And seemed very comfortable in his own skin.

  “I don’t want to keep you long, Mr. Proctor, but I’m hoping you can remember more details about Rose Bernstein’s death.”

  “Leah.” His smile lost its luster. “She made it clear that wasn’t just her name, but who she was now. I don’t understand why you’d want to know about all of that.”

  “Just making sure we tie up any loose ends. You and she were close.”

  “As close as you could get to Leah. She was—I’d say the word is mercurial. And at nineteen I found that fascinating. She was this amazing puzzle, this tough, talented girl with a soft middle. We wanted the same things—theater. And not just theater, Broadway. The attraction between us was quick and hot. We worked, we rehearsed, went to class, went to bed.”

  “You knew about her addictions.”

  “Not at first. She was pretty good at hiding them. She wanted that part. She wanted Marcie Bright, and she earned it. I found pills at her place one night. She was careless, left them out. Or maybe, when I’ve looked back, I think maybe she wanted me to find them. I was concerned. She called them Mother’s Little Helpers. Her mother. Said no big deal if she needed a boost, needed to sleep. But it didn’t take long, even through the sexual haze, for me to see it was a big deal. To realize she often took them with vodka.”

  He let out a long breath. “God, I’ve thought more about her, and all of that, in the last twenty-four hours than I have in nearly that many years. I wasn’t a saint, Lieutenant. I was underage but I didn’t say no to a brew. We worked hard, often twelve, fifteen hours a day. But I had a family member who was a recovering alcoholic, and I knew the signs.”

  “You spoke with her about it.”

  “I did. She even went to a couple of meetings—if I went with her.”

  “Did you speak to anyone else about her addictions?”

  “Her mother. Her mother came to my place and went off on me, said I was putting pressure on Leah, making demands, cheating on her, specifically but not exclusively, with Eliza. Men were all animals and so on, and stay away from her girl.

  “I pointed out Leah was eighteen, lived on her own, had a career, and could make her own choices. She’d cornered me before, offered to have sex with me if I talked Leah into firing her agent. I told Detective Peabody.”

  “Yes. Is there something more you didn’t tell Detective Peabody?”

  “Actually…” He flushed a little, shot a glance toward the music. “This time around, when she went off on me, she grabbed my crotch. She just … grabbed me and said she’d show me what sex was really all about. All I had to do was stay away from Leah when we weren’t onstage.

  “I went off.” He blew out a breath. “Really went off. She grabbed me by the…” He glanced back toward the bedrooms again. “Anyway. My roommate came out because I was yelling. I said it was her fault Leah took pills, drank too much, stuck her fingers down her throat if she ate a real meal. So we’re yelling ugly things at each other, and she slapped me, caught the corner of my eye with a fingernail. Hurt like hell.”

  “You didn’t mention the assault to Detective Peabody.”

  “No, and I realized after … I should’ve. It’s embarrassing even now. It’s not something I like to remember, to be honest. Because … I almost hit her back. I’ve never hit anyone, but I almost—I would have. I would have hit her if my roommate hadn’t stepped in, told her to get the hell out or he’d throw her out.”

  “Did you tell Leah?”

  “I didn’t. Maybe I should have, but I thought it would make things worse for her.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “Eliza. Eliza and Leah spent a lot of time together. The three of us did, on and off. They rehearsed together, hung out sometimes. Her mom just wouldn’t leave her alone. Some days, Leah would tell them to keep her mother out, others it was fine, let her in so she can watch. Mercurial,” he murmured. “Things got a little strained between us, and that would be the reason. From my end, I guess. Her mother was toxic, but Leah couldn’t let her go, not all the way. Like another addiction.”

  He lifted his hands. “When I think about how young we were, how self-involved and naive—well, me on the naive anyway. So much I didn’t know. If I’d known more, maybe I could’ve helped her more. Maybe I pushed too hard. Anyway, the heat was dying out between us. Then we’re doing final dress—a friends and family night. She told me she’d had her mother barred, but I saw her mother walk right into her dressing room before curtain. It pissed me off. One thing, the performance, but another? I thought fine, she brought it on herself.”

  He glanced back once again. “And I didn’t tell the detective this, either. Trying to shove it away again, I guess, but my wife, when I told her about talking to the detective, said how you shouldn’t leave things out when talking to the police. And she’s right.”

  “What did you leave out?”

  “It probably doesn’t mean anything, not after all this time. That night, between scenes—I honestly can’t remember at what point now—I saw her again, this time going after Eliza. She actually slapped Eliza like she had me. I couldn’t do anything about it. Eliza was stage right, I was stage left. Security got Mrs. Bernstein out, and I could see Eliza was shaken up.”

  “Did you speak with her about it?”

  “I did. I asked her what she’d said—Mrs. Bernstein—and as I remember, Eliza just said, like, the usual or something along those lines. I was going to have it out with Leah after the performance because you can’t come in and upset the players that way, you just can’t. She needed to be banned. But when I went to Leah after—we were all going over to this club to hang out, unwind, celebrate because we really brought it down.”

  He blew out a breath, rubbed at his eyes. “Hell. When I went to her dressing room, she was drinking, the pills were out, and I’d had enough. Just enough. I told her if she wouldn’t help herself, I was done. She said: ‘Bye.’ Just like that. Eliza and I walked over together, whined to each other some then—hell with it.”

  “Were you and Eliza ever intimate?”

  “Eliza and me? No. No.” He laughed. “One thing, I was burned. Another, she was seeing someone. Not serious, I don’t think, but still. Most of us hung out until closing, about two, I guess.”

  “You, Eliza, and most of the cast?”

  “Yeah, and some of the crew. Some of us walked around awhile after—it felt like we owned the city—and we dropped off Eliza and ah … Shelly, yeah, Shelly, she was in a swing. They lived in the same building. My roommate—Elliot, he’s directing the play I’m in now—we peeled off and went home. We didn’t hear about Leah until the next day.

  “It didn’t seem real,” he murmured. “I said, the last thing: ‘Enough. I’m out.’ She said: ‘Bye.’ The last things we said to each other.”

  19

  The interview gave her plenty to chew over, and a couple more names to check if she kept running along this line.

  Toxic, he’d called Debra. And poison was poison whether it killed you emotionally, mentally, or physically.

  She continued uptown, hugging the West Side until she got to Eliza’s building. The doorman greeted her like an old friend.

  “Hey, Lieutenant, how’s it going? Don’t you worry about your ride. I’ve got my eye on it.”

  “Appreciate it. Do you know if Ms. Lane’s in the building?”

  “She hasn’t come out. Haven’t seen her since that night. We sent up a card—the whole staff signed it. We’re going to send flowers when we know where.”

  “I’m sure she appreciates it. Do you know if anyone’s with her?”

  “Well, Mr. Jacoby came in a couple hours ago, and I heard how Dolby and Ms. Ricardo went up this morning. Haven’t seen them come out.”

  “Thanks.” She went in and to the desk.

  “Lieutenant, how can I help you?”

  “Would you let Ms. Lane know I’m here to speak with her?”

  “Of course, just one moment.” He tapped his earpiece. “Ms. Ricardo, this is Robert at the desk. Lieutenant Dallas is here for Ms. Lane. Yes, thank you. You can go right up.”

  “Has she had any visitors today?”

  “Her staff, and Mr. Jacoby. I believe all are with her now. We have had a few … adventurous journalists attempt entry. One offered me five thousand for entry to her private elevator.”

  “That’s pretty adventurous.”

  He smiled. “I agree. My integrity is worth a great deal more than that.”

  “Who else can clear that elevator?”

  “The desk, the head of security, and Ms. Lane or her staff from the penthouse. I can assure you no one with that authority would violate her privacy or security.”

  “Good to know.”

  No one had used it the day or evening of the murder—they’d already checked. But good to know.

  She rode up, smooth as silk, and came out in the foyer, where Dolby Kessler waited for her.

  He’d been crying recently, she noted, but offered her a smile.

  “Thanks for coming. We’ve got Eliza out on the terrace—some vitamin D and fresh air.” He glanced that way. “We’ve been working on plans for Brant’s memorials. She needed a break. Guess we all did.”

  “I’m sorry I have to bring his loss back to the front of the line.”

  “No, no, anything you can tell her—us—helps. Um, Cela’s up in her office making some of the arrangements. Do you need her?”

  “I’d like to speak with everyone at once, at least briefly.”

  “I’ll go get her. You can go right out.”

  “Mr. Kessler—”

  “Dolby. I just don’t go with the ‘mister’ thing.”

  “Dolby, on the day of the party, you were here when the cleaning crew arrived.”

  “I think so. Cela, Lin, and I were all upstairs that morning, dealing with stuff until, I guess, about maybe eleven? I’m not real sure.”

  “They were here when you left your office space.”

  “I know that for sure. I saw Aileen working on the second floor. She sort of heads things up.”

  “Alone?”

  “She was working with somebody—I just don’t remember the name right off. They had extra help because of the party. Eliza’s fierce about everything being just so. I know Wayne fixed them all some lunch because I grabbed some myself. Eliza, Cela, and I ate in the dining room. Cela had a salon appointment, so she left right after lunch. Lin and Brant had lunch out and hit the gym for a bit. I guess I zipped out about five, maybe, to change for the party, but I was back before seven.”

  Since she’d already checked the security feed, she knew he had the times close enough.

  “Did you go up to your office again, the third floor?”

  “Not after lunch. Plenty to do, and we worked on tablets. And the cleaners had to get to that.”

  “All right. I’d appreciate it if you got Ms. Ricardo for me.”

  At a table under the shade of an umbrella, Eliza sat with Lin Jacoby. She’d twisted her hair into a stylishly careless knot and done some careful makeup.

  Still, the signs of sleepless nights and strain showed through.

  Lin, showing strain of his own, rose when Eve stepped out.

  “Lieutenant. We’ve been so anxious to hear from you. Sorry,” he said immediately. “Please sit. We’ve got some of Wayne’s amazing raspberry lemonade, fruit, cheese.”

  As he poured her a glass, Eve sat. Eliza shifted her hands to her lap, gripped them together.

  “You have news? Anything?”

  “The investigation into your husband’s death has been, and will be, our focus. We’ve made an arrest on related charges.”

  “An arrest?” Her hands flew to her face; her eyes filled. “Who? Who did this?”

  “Related charges?” Lin said. “What does that mean?”

  “It means this individual committed illegal acts that pertain to Mr. Fitzhugh’s death. We’re compiling evidence, and if and when we have evidence, we’ll charge her with his murder.”

  “Her?” Eliza reached out to grab Lin’s hand. “Who is she? Who is this woman who killed Brant?”

  “She’s not charged with his murder at this time. We can, however, prove she was on the premises, and stole your award for the original production of Upstage.”

  “My Tony?” Her face went blank. “I don’t understand.”

  “You had your awards displayed in your office space. Have you been in there since the night of the party?”

  “No. I … I’ve been at Sylvie’s until this morning. She had a table reading, and it was time for me to come home, to start making arrangements. I haven’t been upstairs at all yet. I just can’t face it. Lin.”

  “I’ll go check.”

  “There’s no need. We have the item in evidence, and the individual admitted to the theft. It’ll be returned to you as soon as possible.”

  “As if I care about that now! It’s Brant. Why would this person steal my Tony and kill Brant? Who is she?”

  “She’s not charged with your husband’s murder,” Eve repeated. “Debra Bernstein.”

  “Debra … Do you mean Leah Rose’s mother? But that’s impossible. She wasn’t here. She’d never have been invited. I’d have seen her, surely, and recognized her.”

  Eve glanced over as Dolby and Cela stepped out.

  “I think Dolby saw her. Dolby, can you describe the woman you saw cleaning with Aileen on the day of the party?”

  “Um … I didn’t pay much attention, just said hi to Aileen, and she said hi back, and this is … I don’t know. She had blond hair, I think. Maybe a blond white woman.”

  “Debra Bernstein entered your apartment as a new hire for the cleaning company.”

  “Their screening is exceptional,” Eliza interrupted.

  “And Bernstein paid a considerable sum to have her references created and verified to pass that screening. She stayed back on a pretext when the rest of the cleaning crew left, then hid on the third floor.”

  “We never went back up there,” Cela murmured. “After the lunch break, we didn’t go back up there. No need. But I saw her, too, at the lunch break, in the kitchen with the others. Blond—a long blond braid. She wasn’t at the party. I’d have seen her. I’m sure I would have.”

  “She changed her hair, her wardrobe, her appearance. You did see her. She asked you to put a large bag in the foyer closet.”

  Eyes huge, Cela covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh God. Oh, Eliza! I—”

  “It’s not your fault. Whatever happened, it’s not your fault.”