“Yes, on one level. But it was also very personal. If we look at an actor, or an aspiring one, professional and personal motives could be easily blended.”
“The only one to tangibly benefit from Draco’s death, professionally, is Michael Proctor. The understudy.”
“Logically, yes. Yet everyone onstage or attached to that performance benefits. The media attention, the names fixed in the minds of the public, that indelible moment in time. Isn’t that what an actor aspires to? The indelible moment?”
“I don’t know. I don’t understand people who spend their lives being other people.”
“The work, the skill, is in making the viewing audience believe they are other people. The theater is more than a job to those who do it well, who devote their life to it. It is, just as your job is to you, a way of life. And on the night Draco was murdered, the spotlight shone a little brighter for everyone in that play.”
“In the play, or involved with the play. Not in the audience.”
“With current data, I can’t eliminate audience members, but am more inclined toward a person or persons closer to the stage.” Mira set her cup aside, laid a hand over Eve’s. “You’re concerned about Nadine.”
Eve opened her mouth, shut it again.
“Nadine’s a patient, and she’s very open with me. I’m fully aware of her history with the victim, and I’m fully prepared, should it become necessary, to give my professional opinion that she isn’t capable of planning and executing a violent crime. If she’d wanted to punish Draco, she would have found a way to do so through the media. She’s capable of that, very capable.”
“Okay, good.”
“I’ve spoken with her,” Mira went on. “I know you’re interviewing her formally today.”
“After I leave here. Just me, Nadine, and her lawyer. I want it on record that she came to me with the information. I can bury the statement for a few days, give her some breathing room.”
“That will help.” But Mira scanned Eve’s face, saw more. “What else?”
“Off the record?”
“Of course.”
Eve took a sip of the tea, then told Mira about the video disc in Draco’s penthouse.
“She doesn’t know,” Mira said immediately. “She would have told me. It would have troubled and infuriated her. Embarrassed her. He must have taped it without her knowledge.”
“Then the next line would be: What if he showed it to her when she went to see him the day he was murdered?”
“Housekeeping would have reported considerable damage to the suite, and Draco would have been forced to seek emergency medical care before his performance.” Mira sat back. “It’s good to see you smile. I’m sorry you’ve been worried about her.”
“She was shook when we had our meet. Really shook.” Eve pushed out of the chair, wandered to the mood screen, and watched the waves ebb and flow. “I’ve got too many people buzzing in my ears. It’s distracting.”
“Would you go back to your life as it was a year ago, Eve? Two years ago?”
“Parts of it were easier. I got up in the morning and did my job. Maybe hung out with Mavis a couple of times a week.” She blew out a breath. “No, I wouldn’t go back. Doesn’t matter anyway. I’m where I am. So…back to Draco.”
Eve continued. “He was a sexual predator.”
“Yes, I read your updated report just before you arrived. I will agree that sex was one of his favored weapons. But it wasn’t the sex itself that fulfilled him. It was the control, the package of his looks, his style, his talent, and sexuality used to control women. Women whom he considered his playthings. And through them, showing his superiority to other men. He was obsessed with being the center.”
“And the illegal? A guy uses Rabbit on a woman because he doesn’t think he’s going to score with her. It takes away her right to choose.”
“Agreed, but in this case, I would say it was just another prop to him. No different in his mind than candlelight and romantic
music. He believed himself a great lover, just as he knew himself to be a great actor. His indulgences, in his mind, were no more than his right as a star. I’m not saying that sex doesn’t play a part in the motive, Eve. I believe, in this case, you have layers and layers of motives, and a very complex killer. Very likely every bit as egocentric as the victim.”
“Two of a kind,” Eve murmured.
• • •
He had it figured. Actors, they thought they were so fucking brilliant, so special, so important. Well, he could’ve been an actor if he’d really wanted. But it was just like his father had always told him. You work backstage, you work forever.