“You want ID? Here’s some ID.” Eve shoved her badge up to the needle-sized lens of the camera. “Tell Ms. Landsdowne Lieutenant Dallas doesn’t like waiting in lobbies.”
“Of course, Lieutenant. One moment, please.”
The music picked up where it had left off, and it had Eve gritting her teeth. “I hate this shit. Why do they think recorded strings do anything but cause annoyance and an urgent desire to find the speakers and rip them out?”
“I think it’s kind of nice,” Peabody said. “I like violins. Reminds me of my mother. She plays,” Peabody added when Eve just stared at her.
“Thank you for waiting. Ms. Landsdowne will be happy to see you, Lieutenant Dallas. If you would proceed to elevator number two. You have been cleared. Have a safe and happy day.”
“I hate when they say that.” Eve strode to the proper elevator. The doors opened, and the same violin music seeped out. It made her snarl.
“Welcome to The Broadway View.” A voice oozed over the strings. “We are a fully self-contained, fully secured building. You are welcome to apply for a day pass in order to tour our facilities, including our state-of-the-art fitness and spa center, which offers complete cosmetic, physical, and mental therapies and treatments. Our shopping area can be reached through public or private access and welcomes all major debit cards. The View also offers its patrons and, with proper reservations, the public, three five-star restaurants as well as the popular Times Square Cafe for those casual dining needs.”
“When is it going to shut up?”
“I wonder if they have a swimming pool.”
“If you are interested in joining our exclusive community, just press extension ninety-four on any house-link and request an appointment with one of our friendly concierges for a tour of our three model units.”
“I’d rather have all the skin peeled from my bones,” Eve decided.
“I wonder if they have efficiencies.”
“Please exit to the left and proceed to apartment number two thousand eight. We at The View wish you a pleasant visit.”
Eve stepped out of the car and headed left. The apartment doors were widely spaced down a generously sized hallway. Whoever’d designed the place hadn’t worried about wasted space, she decided. Then she had the uncomfortable feeling she was going to discover her husband owned the building.
Carly opened the door before Eve could buzz. The actress wore a deep blue lounging robe, her feet bare and tipped with ripe pink. But her hair and face were done and done well, Eve noted.
“Good morning, Lieutenant.” Carly leaned against the door for a moment, a deliberately cocky pose. “How nice of you to drop by.”
“You’re up early,” Eve commented. “And here I thought theater people weren’t morning people.”
Carly’s smirk wavered a bit, but she firmed it again as she stepped back. “I have a performance today. Richard’s memorial service.”
“You consider that a performance?”
“Of course. I have to be sober and sad and spout all the platitudes. It’s going to be a hell of an act for the media.” Carly gestured toward an attractive curved sofa of soft green in the living area. “I could have put on the same act for you, and quite convincingly. But it seemed such a waste of your time and my talent. Can I offer you coffee?”
“No. It doesn’t worry you to be a suspect in a murder investigation?”
“No, because I didn’t do it and because it’s good research. I may be called on to play one eventually.”
Eve wandered to the window wall, privacy screened, and lifted her brows at the killer view of Times Square. The animated billboards were alive with color and promises, the air traffic thick as fleas on a big, sloppy dog.
If she looked over and down, and it was the down that always bothered her, she could see the Gothic spires of Roarke’s New Globe Theater.
“What’s your motivation?”
“For murder?” Carly sat, obviously enjoying the morning duel. “It would, of course, depend on the victim. But parallelling life, let’s call him a former lover who done me wrong. The motivation would be a combination of pride, scorn, and glee.”
“And hurt?” Eve turned back, pinned her before Carly could mask the shadow of distress.
“Perhaps. You want to know if Richard hurt me. Yes, he did. But I know how to bind my wounds, Lieutenant. A man isn’t worth bleeding over, not for long.”
“Did you love him?”
“I thought I did at the time. But it was astonishingly easy to switch that emotion to hate. If I’d wanted to kill him, well, I couldn’t have done it better than it was done. Except I would never have sacrificed the satisfaction of delivering the killing blow personally. Using a proxy takes all the fun out of it.”