Death of a Blue Movie Star

knows about bombs.”
    “But you need a motive to—”
    “I’ve got one. He stole a play that Shelly wrote. He took it and put his name on it. He told me he’d never gotten anywhere with his career and I think he could’ve killed her and stolen that play.”
    “Pretty damn speculative. Who else is a suspect?”
    “Michael Schmidt.”
    Healy was frowning. “It’s familiar. Who’s he?”
    “The Broadway producer. The famous one.”
    “
Him?
”
    “Right. He told me he didn’t remember Shelly but he was lying. It turns out he’d almost offered her a role in one of his plays. Then he found out she did porn and withdrew the offer. She was going to blackmail him into getting the part.”
    “You don’t kill someone—”
    “He’s a deacon in the church. She could’ve brought down his whole career. He’s also an obnoxious son of a bitch.”
    “That doesn’t violate the Penal Code of the State of New York, being obnoxious. Who else is on the list?”
    “Another asshole. Danny Traub. He’s part owner of Lame Duck. Shelly’s company.”
    “And you heard about an insurance policy on the building?”
    “No. On
her
.”
    This got Healy’s attention. “Go on.”
    “Shelly told me that she had a terrible fight with someone she worked with. I think it might’ve been him. He was always flirting with her and she was rejecting him. And he’s really into S and M; he gets off on beating women. So I broke into his town house—”
    Healy put his face in his hands. “Rune, no, no, no. You can’t do these things.”
    “It’s okay. One of his girlfriends said it was all right. She also let me go through his safe.”
    Healy sighed. “At least you didn’t steal anything.” He looked at her. “Tell me you didn’t steal anything.”
    “What, I look like a thief?” Rune asked. “Anyway, what I found was this insurance policy on Shelly. Almost a half-million dollars.”
    “No exclusion for murder?”
    “Nope. His girlfriend made a copy of it for me.”
    “You’ve got three suspects. Could any of them been the one who attacked you?”
    “They’re all about the same build. Oh, and Schmidt’s eyes were all red. Like he’d been teargassed recently.”
    “Teargassed? What does that have to do with anything?”
    “The man in the windbreaker?” she said sheepishly. “I sort of teargassed him.”
    “Sort of?”
    “Self-defense,” she pointed out in a lame voice.
    But Healy didn’t lecture her about illegal weapons in the city of New York. He just shrugged. “I don’t know. Tear gas burns disappear within twelve hours or so. How ’bout the other two?”
    “They’re all built about the same. Not muscle builders.”
    “Did any of them look really shocked to see you? I mean, if they’d tried to kill you, there would’ve been some recognition in their faces.”
    “I don’t think so,” she said, frowning in disappointment.
    “Of course,” Healy added, “the smart thing would be to hire a strong-arm.”
    “A hit man?”
    Healy was nodding absently. “That’s good…. It’s not enough for probable cause but …” Then he laughed and shook his head as if coming out of a daydream. “Hey, forget this whole thing.” He held up his hand—not the one that was still resting on her knee. “I’m not even in Homicide…. I don’t want to know any of this.”
    “Just tell me about the explosives. From the second bombing.”
    “No.”
    “I thought you were having them traced.”
    “I am.”
    “Well?”
    “No results yet, and when I get them I’m writing them in my report and sending it upstairs. And that’ll be that.”
    She said defiantly, “
I’ll
just have to keep looking, I guess.”
    “Rune.” Healy was debating. “Tell you what. I’ll steer a couple guys from Homicide over to check out—what was his name?—the acting coach. He’s the only one seems to know anything about explosives.”
    “Really? Only promise you won’t arrest him till I’m there. I want to film the bust.”
    “I think you know we can’t make any promises like that.”
    “Well, just try. Please!” Rune wrote Tucker’s name on a mustard-stained napkin and handed it to Healy. She asked, “What about the other two?”
    “You want my opinion? The insurance angle with, what’s his name, Traub. That’s too obvious. And Michael Schmidt? Doesn’t seem a celeb like him’d risk a murder conviction because of a blackmail threat.”
    “Oh, but he’s got an ego like the Grand Canyon.”
    Healy