“You look good, you’ve got a brain, notoriety, and you’ve got money.”
DeLano opened her mouth, closed it, considered. “Well, yes.”
“Think about it. You may want to talk to your mother about this, since it would give her more of a sense of what to look for, or it might spark a memory of a communication that applies. Otherwise, don’t talk about this.”
“I need to tell my girls.”
“Teenage girls tend to blab to other teenage girls.”
“Not if I put it under the dome. The Family Only Dome. It’s a sacred trust in our house. My mother’s the same, Lieutenant. If it’s put under the dome, it stays under the dome.”
“You can consider all this under the dome,” Eve said to Nadine.
“Understood and agreed in advance. It’ll break eventually, Blaine. You should work on a statement, have it ready when it blows.”
“Right, yes. You’re right. If you need me for anything, Lieutenant, anything, I’ll be available. I’ll get out of your way.” She rose. “Thanks, Nadine, for coming in with me.”
“If you need anything, tag me,” Nadine replied.
“I will, and I’m not going to be shy about it. I love my work. The good guys win. Terrible things happen, ugly things, but the good guys win. I’m going to count on that.”
“I’m going to show you out, Ms. DeLano.”
When Peabody took DeLano out, Eve stayed where she was.
“How well do you know her?” she asked Nadine.
“I’d call us casual friends. She’s been on Now a few times, gives a good interview. She’s not bullshitting about not socializing much. I did meet her kids and her mother—they all came to the studio once. Tight unit. What was your impression of her?”
“Smart and steady.”
“That would be correct. The kids strike me as the same, and I’d say the smart and steady comes down from Blaine’s mother. They’ll hold it together.”
“What do you know about the ex-husband?”
“More now than I did. I poked around a bit preinterview, but she’s kept a lid on it. And casual friends don’t push that line much in a non-professional arena. My impression there was controlling jerk, but the smacking around? She’s kept that under wraps.”
“But you knew about it.”
Nadine’s lips curved. “It might be that in the act of poking I unearthed some documentation buried under layers of time, privacy, and discretion.”
“You didn’t hit her with it during the interviews?”
“What would be the point?” Nadine jerked a shoulder. “She could’ve ridden that train herself, probably sold more books on that track, but she didn’t—likely to shield her kids. I slap it out on-air, I get that momentary reaction, some buzz after, and I humiliate a couple of kids, and a woman who rebuilt her life. What’s the point?”
“The point is you’ll dig, but you understand and respect the line between petty gossip for ratings and real juice. It’s why she tagged you,” Eve said. “It’s why I’m telling you I have no doubt we’ll be investigating a cyanide poisoning at a dance club in fairly short order if we don’t get lucky first.”
“Why not a bogus hanging suicide? That’s the next murder in the series.”
“The second murder in the second book? First, the killer’s likely done with the second book. And it was bungled. This killer isn’t looking to replicate a bungle.”
“But they all get caught in the end,” Nadine argued. “It’s just as she said. The good guys win.”
“Not in the book the killer’s writing. Now beat it.”
“It was great seeing you, too,” Nadine said dryly as she rose. “Since we’re on books, I’ve got The Red Horse Chronicles about ready to submit. I want you to see it first. And there’s no point in giving me a pained look—the book’s happening. I’d like you to read the manuscript before I send it off. Just like The Icove Agenda, it was your case.”
“Yeah, yeah.”