Celebrity in Death

weeping.
    “Are we going to stick her with Accessory After the Fact?” Peabody asked.
    “We’ll leave it to Reo and her boss. Ready for the main feature?”
    “Oh yeah. There’s crème brûlée. I hid some so it wouldn’t get scarfed down. I’m counting on this interview to work enough calories off for me to eat mine.”
    “Then you take the first shot at him.”
    “Hot dog! Bad cop?”
    “No, Peabody.”
    “Damn it.” Peabody’s face fell. “You want me to soften him up so you can come in for the kill.”
    “Let’s stick to our strengths and nail this bastard.”
    “Then crème brûlée.”
    “Then crème brûlée.”
    P eabody went in first, alone. She worked on looking slightly intimidated as she read the data into the record.
    “Lieutenant Dallas will be here in a few minutes. Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Steinburger?”
    “I don’t want anything but an explanation for this outrage. I’ll be speaking not only to your commander, but the chief of police and the mayor.”
    “Yes, sir. I should let you know that, well, there have been some discrepancies in your statements. I realize the lieutenant may have …I realize this may seem like jumping in with both feet, but there are those discrepancies.”
    “What are you talking about?” He slapped a hand on the table. “Be specific.”
    “Well, specifically, we’ve spoken with Valerie Xaviar. She now states she saw Julian, and you, leave the theater for a time after the victim exited same—and she further states you told her the victim had an accident. Prior to the discovery of the body. So …”
    “And you take her word over mine?”
    “I’m sorry, sir, but she was pretty, well, specific. And then there’s the fifty thousand you transferred to her account. And the fact that you had an account under an assumed name. Um …” Peabody looked through the files as if searching for the name. “B.B. Joel.”
    “I do that for privacy, and Valerie had earned a bonus. Though I’m rethinking that matter now.”
    “Yes, sir. She also mentioned that you went out on the night A. A. Asner was killed.”
    “She’s mistaken.”
    “She was reluctant to give us that information. The lieutenant believes her. Especially with the incident tonight involving Julian Cross.”
    “What
incident? Be specific.” This time he pounded his fist on the table. “I was having dinner with a friend tonight, as you very well know. I haven’t seen Julian since I left the studio late this afternoon.”
    “But you went to see him last night.” When Steinburger hesitated, Peabody pressed, gently. “You’d be on hotel security. You took him a bottle of wine.”
    “He wanted company. He didn’t want to spend the evening alone. So I took over a bottle of wine. And I limited it to one glass, as he’s been drinking more than he should. He … hasn’t been himself.”
    Playing me, Peabody thought, and felt those calories burn. “Heingested two or more glasses of that same wine tonight, along with an as yet unknown amount of Somnipoton.”
    “Oh my God. Is he all right? Is he in the hospital? I should have known, should have known he might …”
    “You were afraid he might try to harm himself?”
    Steinburger shook his head, looked away.
    In Observation, Roarke sipped from his own glass of wine.
    “You’re not supposed to drink alcohol in here,” Eve told him.
    “Arrest me. But let me finish this first. Aren’t you going in?”
    “She’s playing him like a flute. He thinks he’s manipulating her, running the show, setting it up so—dead or alive—Julian takes the fall. But she’s calling the tune. She’s doing a damn good job.”
    “Wine?” Roarke said, lifting the bottle.
    “No. Jesus.” Then she took his glass, and a minute sip. “Pretty good stuff. I’m going to let her string him a little longer. So, want to open another bottle when we get home, and have half-drunk sex?”
    “I think of nothing else every waking moment.”
    He dropped an arm around her shoulders as they watched Peabody work.
    “Sir,” Peabody said, honesty shining from her eyes, “I’ve got to be straight with you. You’re in some trouble here. The conflicting statements, the money, and—well. What I want to say is if you know something, now’s the time to tell us. Me. The lieutenant’s running hot.”
    “Then she should cool off! You expect me to turn on a friend? On someone who counts on my support?”
    “Maybe that friend needs help. Maybe he needs