In Death 03 - Immortal in Death

the least obsessively pert of the three receptionists. "Lieutenant Dallas. I have an appointment with Mr. Redford."
    "Yes, Lieutenant." The man -- or he might have been a god with his perfectly chiseled golden looks -- smiled brilliantly. "I'll tell him you're here. Please help yourself to some refreshments."
    "Want to chow down, Peabody?"
    "Those pastries look pretty good. We could cop some on the way out."
    "Our minds are in tune."
    "Mr. Redford would love to see you now, Lieutenant." The modern-day Apollo lifted a section of the console, slipped through. "Just let me take you to him."
    He led them through smoked glass doors where the noise switched to clashing voices. On either side of the corridor, doors were open, and men and women sat at desks, paced, or reclined on sofas, wheeling and dealing.
    "How many times have I heard that plot line, JT? It's so first millennium."
    "We need a fresh face. Garboesque with Little Bo Peep innocence."
    "People don't want depth, honeypot. Give 'em a choice between the ocean and a puddle, they're going to splash in the puddle. We're all children."
    They approached a pair of double doors in sparkling silver. The guide opened them both with a dramatic sweep. "Your guests, Mr. Redford."
    "Thank you, Caesar."
    "Caesar," Eve muttered. "I was so close."
    "Lieutenant Dallas." Paul Redford rose from behind a U-shaped workstation in the same glittery silver as his doors. The floor he crossed was smooth as glass and decorated with swirls of color. Behind him was the expected spectacular view of the city. His hand clasped Eve's with easy, practiced warmth. "Thank you so much for agreeing to come here. I'm juggling meetings all day and it's so much more convenient for me than coming to you."
    "It's not a problem. My aide, Officer Peabody."
    The smile, as smooth and practiced as the handshake, encompassed them both. "Please sit down. What can I offer you?"
    "Just information." Eve glanced at the seating arrangement, blinked. They were all animals: chairs, stools, sofas, all fashioned to resemble tigers, hounds, or giraffes.
    "My first wife was a decorator," he explained. "After the divorce, I decided to keep them. They're the best memory of that time in my life." He chose a basset hound for himself propped his feet up on a cushion shaped like a curled cat. "You want to talk about Pandora."
    "Yes." If they'd been lovers, as reported, Eve decided he'd gotten over his grief quickly. A police interview apparently didn't affect him, either. He was composed, the genial host in a five-thousand-dollar linen suit and melted-butter Italian loafers.
    He was, Eve mused, undoubtedly as screen friendly as any of the actors he worked with. A strong, bony face the color of fresh honey was accented with a well-trimmed, glossy moustache. His dark hair was slicked back and twisted into a complicated queue that dangled to his shoulder blades.
    He looked, Eve decided, like what he was: a successful producer who enjoyed his power and wealth.
    "I'd like to record this, Mr. Redford."
    "I'd prefer that, Lieutenant." He leaned back into the embrace of the sad-eyed hound and folded his hands on his stomach. "I heard you've made an arrest in this matter."
    "We have. But the investigation is ongoing. You were acquainted with the deceased, known as Pandora."
    "Well acquainted. I was considering a project with her, certainly had socialized with her on a number of occasions over the years, and when it was convenient, had sex with her."
    "Were you and the victim lovers at the time of her death?"
    "We were never lovers, Lieutenant. We had sex. We did not make love. In fact, I doubt there was a man alive who ever made love to her, or attempted to. If he did, he was a fool. I'm not a fool."
    "You didn't like her."
    "Like her?" Redford laughed. "God, no. She was the singularly most dislikable human being I've ever known. But she did have talent. Not as much as she believed, and none at all in certain areas, and yet..."
    He lifted his elegant hands; rings sparkled: dark stones in heavy gold. "Beauty is easy, Lieutenant. Some are born with it, others buy it. An attractive physical shell is moronically simple to come by today. It's still desired. Pleasing looks never fade from fashion, but in order to make a living from those looks, a person has to have talent."
    "And Pandora's was?"
    "An aura, a power, an elemental, even animalistic ability to exude sex. Sex has always, will always sell."
    Eve inclined her head. "Only now we