Genuine Lies

help.”
    “It’s all right. Whatever it takes, I’ll do. You need to know …” She fought grimly to keep her breath from hitching. “She was more than a subject to me. Much more than that, Lieutenant. Eve Benedict was my mother.”
    What a fucking mess.
    Frank wasn’t thinking about the crime scene. He’d been on too many to allow himself to be overly affected by the aftermath of violent death. He hated murder, despised it as the darkest of sins. But he was a cop, first and last, and it wasn’t his job to philosophize. It was his job to find a firm grip on the slippery rope of justice.
    It was his friend he was thinking about as he watched Paul stand over the draped body. As he watched him reach down to touch the dead face.
    Frank had cleared the room, and the forensic boys weren’t too happy. They still had their dusting and vacuuming to do. But there were times you bent the rules. Paul was entitled to a couple of minutes alone with a woman he’d loved for twenty-five years.
    He could hear movement upstairs, where he’d sent Julia with a policewoman. She needed to change, to gather up whatever personal items she and her kid would need. No one without a badge would be coming inside this house for some time.
    Eve still looked beautiful, Paul reflected. Seeing that helped somehow. Whoever had done this hadn’t been able to take her beauty from her.
    She was too pale, of course. Too still. Shutting his eyes, he struggled over another raw wave of grief. She wouldn’twant that. He could almost hear her laugh, feel her pat his cheek.
    “Darling,” she would say. “I packed more than enough into one life, so don’t shed any tears for me. Now, I expect— hell, I demand that my fans weep copiously and gnash their teeth. The studios should shut down for a goddamn day of mourning. But I want the people I love to get stinking drunk and have one hell of a party.”
    Gently, he slipped her hand into his, raised it to his lips for the last time. “Bye, gorgeous.”
    Frank laid a hand on his shoulder. “Come on out back.”
    With a nod, Paul turned away from her. God knew he needed the air. The moment he stepped onto the terrace, he took a big gulp of it.
    “How?” was all he said.
    “Blow to the base of the skull. Looks like the fireplace poker. I know it doesn’t help much, but the coroner thinks death was instantaneous.”
    “No, it doesn’t help.” He stuffed impotent fists into his pockets. “I’m going to need to make arrangements. How soon will you … when will you release her to me?”
    “I’ll let you know. I can’t do any better than that. You’re going to have to talk to me, officially.” He pulled out a cigarette. “I can come to you, or you can come downtown.”
    “I need to take Julia away from here.” He accepted the cigarette Frank offered, leaned into the flame of the match. “She and Brandon will stay with me. She’s going to need some time.”
    “I’ll give her what I can, Paul, but you’ve got to understand. She found the body, she’s Eve’s long-lost daughter. She knows what’s in here.” He lifted the bag full of the tapes he’d taken from the safe after Julia had given him the location and combination. “She’s the best lead we’ve got.”
    “She may be the best lead you’ve got, but she’s hanging together by a very thin thread. Stretch it much more, and it’s going to snap. For God’s sake, give us a couple of days.”
    “I’ll do what I can.” He blew smoke from between histeeth. “It’s not going to be easy. Reporters are staking out the place.”
    “Fuck.”
    “You said it. I’m going to keep the business of Julia’s relationship with Eve under wraps for as long as I can, but that’s going to bust loose too. When it does, they’ll be on her like fleas.” He glanced up as Julia stepped through the doorway. “Get her out of here.”
    Panting, Drake shoved through the door, then locked it behind him. Thank Christ, thank Christ, he thought over and over as he rubbed shaking hands over his clammy face. He’d made it home. He was safe.
    He needed a drink.
    Favoring his ankle, he hobbled through the living room to the bar and snatched a bottle at random. A quick twist of the top and he was drinking Stoli. He shuddered, gulped oxygen, and guzzled some more.
    Dead. The queen was dead.
    He gave a nervous giggle that ended on a racking sob. How could it have happened? Why had it happened? If he hadn’t gotten away before Julia had come back