The In Death Collection Books 6-10 - J. D. Robb [673]
“The media’s already broadcasting that one.”
“Sure, with allegedly and believed to be sprinkled all through the reports. I need confirmation.”
“I need a vacation. Neither of us look to be getting our wish anytime soon.”
“Dallas.” Giving up, Nadine took Eve’s arm, tugged her aside out of the way of Peabody and her own long-suffering camera operator. “I have to know something. I can’t sleep. Give me something, make it off the record. I need to close this circle before I can move on.”
“You shouldn’t be on this story.”
“I know it, and if it comes out that Richard and I were involved, I’ll take a lot of heat for that, personally and professionally. But if I just sit around and wait, I’ll go crazy with those options, I’ll risk the heat.”
“How much did he mean to you?”
“Entirely too much. That’s been dead a lot longer than he has. That doesn’t mean I don’t need to close the circle.”
“Meet me at Central, an hour. I’ll give you what I can.”
“Thanks. If you could just tell me if Kenneth—”
“An hour, Nadine.” Eve skirted around her. “Don’t push your luck.”
In twenty minutes, they were inside Anja Carvell’s suite. There wasn’t a trace of her.
“She jumped.” Peabody hissed at the empty closet. Then she frowned and turned to stare at Eve. “You knew she wouldn’t be here.”
“I didn’t expect to find her. She’s smart. Smart enough to know I’d be back.”
“She killed Draco?”
“She’s part of it.” Eve wandered into the bath. Anja’s scent was still there, coolly female.
“Should I contact the authorities in Montreal? Start arranging for extradition?”
“Don’t bother. She’d be expecting that. If she ever lived in Montreal, she wouldn’t go back there now. She’s gone under,” Eve murmured, “but she won’t go far. So we play it out. Call for the sweepers.”
“No warrant?”
“My husband owns the joint. Take care of it. I’m going down to security.”
By the time Eve had finished at The Palace Hotel, returned to Central, and made her case to Whitney, she was late for her appointment with Nadine.
It irritated her, as it always did, to find Nadine already in her office.
“Why do they let you in here?”
“Because I bring donuts. Cops have been weak for them for generations.”
“Where’s mine?”
“Sorry, the squad descended on them like rats. I think Baxter licked up the crumbs.”
“He would.” She settled at her desk. “Where’s your camera?”
“She’s outside.”
“Well, get her in here. I haven’t got all damn day.”
“But I thought—”
“Look, do you want a one-on-one or not?”
“You bet I do.” She grabbed her palm-link and called her camera. “You could use a few layers of concealer on those tote bags under your eyes.” She dug into the hefty and well-packed makeup kit in her purse. “Try this.”
“Keep that crap away from me.”
“Suit yourself, but you look like you haven’t slept in days.” Nadine flipped open a mirror, began to enhance her own face. “Still, it makes you look fierce and dedicated.”
“I am fierce and dedicated.”
“And it never fails to look good on-screen. Great sweater, by the way. Cashmere?”
Baffled, Eve looked down at her navy turtleneck. “I don’t know. It’s blue. Will this air tonight?”
“Bet your ass.”
“Good.” Someone, Eve thought, wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep. And this time, it wouldn’t be her.
Nadine fussed with the camera angles, looked in the monitor, and ordered a light adjustment.
“It’s not a damn beauty contest, Nadine.”
“Shows what you know about on-air reporting. There, that looks good. Can you cut out some of that air traffic, Lucy? It’s like sitting in a transpo center.”
“I’m filtering out most of it.” The operator fiddled another moment, then nodded. “Ready when you are.”
“We’ll do the bumper back at the shop. Start record. This is Nadine Furst for Channel 75,” she began, her eyes on the pinpoint lens. “Reporting from Cop Central and the office of Lieutenant Eve Dallas, the primary investigator in the murder of actor Richard Draco. Lieutenant.