“Why?”
When DeLano brought her joined hands up to press between her breasts, Nadine started to speak.
“Let her tell it.”
Nadine hissed out a breath, but didn’t speak.
“This was easier in my head.”
“Drink some water, Ms. DeLano,” Peabody advised. “Take a breath.”
“Okay. Yes.” She obeyed, cleared her throat. “I think I’d have been struck by the similar elements. A young actress stabbed while watching a Hitchcock vid. If subsequent reports had termed the weapon an ice pick, I’d have been more than struck. I was only somewhat intrigued by what I now think was the first. About a month ago, a young street-level LC, only a few weeks into the job, was strangled in a flop many use for their work. Her body showed no sign of recent sexual activity, no other injuries. The killer used a white scarf.”
She paused, drank more water.
“In my book Dark Falls, a young street-level LC, only a few weeks into the job, was strangled in a flop many use for their work. Her body showed no signs of recent sexual activity, and wouldn’t, as this was her first client of
the night. No other injuries. A sedative mixed with wine—a cheap Chianti—was discovered in her system during the autopsy. The killer used a white scarf, left in place and tied into a bow at the side of her neck.”
DeLano cleared her throat again. “At the time, as I said, I was mildly intrigued. The young licensed companion, no sex, the white scarf. But it’s a dangerous line of work, especially at that level. If you tell me the case is closed, that there was no bow, no sedative found, if you tell me Chanel Rylan was killed with a steak knife, I’ll mark this all up to coincidence and paranoia. I’d like to be able to do just that, more than I can tell you.”
Eve leaned back in the chair. “You write cop books?”
“Police thrillers, yes.”
“Maybe you know what cops say about coincidence.”
Deliberately DeLano picked up her water, drank. “There aren’t any. God.”
“Peabody, get the file on the LC. Jenkinson and Reineke caught it, but I don’t remember all the details.”
“Yes, sir.”
DeLano closed her eyes as Peabody left the room. “It was an ice pick, there was a bow. You don’t have to tell me for me to know it. I don’t know what to do, what to think.”
“How long ago did you write the LC one?”
“Dark Falls, the first book of the spin-off Dark series. Deann Dark, former police detective—still one in that book—who turns in her badge at the end of the book and turns to private investigation. Eight years ago. That was a spring release as part of the Hightower series. They were partners. The second, Dark Days, with the ice pick, came out that fall. I’ve done eleven Hightowers and eight Darks. Eight, and now two … I feel sick.”
“This isn’t your fault or your responsibility.” Nadine turned to Eve. “She could use hearing that from you.”
“I don’t know either way yet. Has anyone contacted you suggesting turning your fiction into reality?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I’ve had readers who want to give me plotlines or ideas, and murder techniques might come into it. I’ve had readers upset or disappointed—even angry—that a romantic relationship hasn’t developed between Deann and Hightower. I don’t know why anyone would do this, or pick my books specifically.”
“Anybody too obsessed or pissed?”
“Nothing raises a flag. These characters—Hightower and Dark—have been around for eleven years. They’ve gone through changes, growth, personal tragedies and triumphs. Not all readers want the changes, others want more. You can’t let that influence the story or the characters.”
Watching DeLano, Eve shifted angles. “How about personally obsessed or pissed? With you, not the characters or the books.”
DeLano swept her hands up over her face, into her hair. “I lead a quiet life, Lieutenant Dallas. A deliberately quiet and simple life. I have two teenage girls, and raising my girls, building my career takes about all I’ve got. I don’t even date. I tried it a couple times, at Heather’s and Piper’s urging. My girls,” she explained. “But I’m just not at a place in my life where I have the interest or the energy. I have friends, mostly other mothers or, like Nadine, someone in the business. I have my family, my mother, my girls. And I have my work. I stay home more than I go out.”
“You’re not married to or cohabbing with the father of your daughters? Or one of the fathers.”
“Just one, and no, I’m divorced.”
“How long?”