In Death 10 - Witness in Death

had one, in the way I assume you mean. Actors often..." He made a vague gesture with his hand and set the multicolored stone cuff bracelet on his wrist to winking cheerfully. "Gravitate toward each other, you might say: 'Like minds, like egos.' We marry each other with a kind of distressing regularity. It rarely lasts, as do the temporary friendships and other intimacies between players on the same stage."
    "Still, you knew him for a number of years."
    "Knew him, certainly, but we were never chums, let's say. In point of fact..." He paused again, his eyes glittering as happily as his bracelet. "I despised him. Loathed him. Found him a particularly vile form of life."
    "For any particular reason?"
    "For any number of very particular reasons." Stiles leaned forward, as if imparting confidences. "He was selfish, egocentric, rude, arrogant. All of those traits I could forgive, even appreciate as we who act require a certain sheen of vanity to do what we do. But under Richard's sheen was a sheer nastiness of spirit. He was a user, Lieutenant, one who not so quietly rejoiced at crushing hearts and souls. I'm not the least bit sorry he's dead, though I regret the method of his oh-so-timely demise."
    "Why?"
    "The play was brilliant, and my part one I relished. This incident will postpone if not cancel the rest of the run. It's very inconvenient."
    "It's going to get a lot of publicity. That won't hurt you."
    Stiles ran a fingertip down his chin. "Naturally not."
    "And when the play resumes, it'll pack the house, night after night."
    "There is that."
    "So his death, in so dramatic and public a way is, on some levels, an advantage."
    "Clever," he murmured, eyeing her more closely now. "That's cleverly thought out. We have a play within a play here, Lieutenant, and you're writing it well."
    "You had access to the prop knife. And enough time to make the switch."
    "I suppose I did. What a thought." He blinked several times as if processing new data. "I'm a suspect. How entertaining! I had seen myself as a witness. Well, well. Yes, I suppose I had opportunity, but no real motive."
    "You've stated, on record, you hated Richard Draco."
    "Oh, my dear Lieutenant, if I arranged the death of every person I disliked, the stage would be littered with bodies. But the fact is, however much I detested Richard on a personal level, I admired his talent. He was an exceptional artist, and that is the only reason I agreed to work with him again. The world might have rid itself of a nasty, small-minded man, but the theater has lost one of its brightest lights."
    "And you, one of your toughest competitors."
    Stiles's eyebrows lifted. "No indeed. Richard and I were much different types. I don't recall that we ever competed for the same role."
    Eve nodded. It would be easy enough to check that data. She shifted tactics. "What's your relationship with Areena Mansfield?"
    "She's a friend, one I admire as a woman and as an associate." He lowered his eyes, shook his head. "This business is very difficult for her. She's a delicate creature under it all. I hope you'll consider that."
    His eyes, darker now, with hints of anger in them, came back to Eve's. "Someone used her horribly. I can tell you this, Lieutenant. If I had decided to kill Richard Draco, I would have found a way to do so that wouldn't have involved a friend. There were two victims on stage last night, and my heart breaks for her."
    "An operator," Eve murmured as they rode down to lobby level. "Slick, smart, and self-satisfied. Of all the actors, he's the one with the most experience. He knows the theater in and out."
    "If he's really a friend of Mansfield's, would he have set it up so she killed Draco? Planted the weapon in her dressing room?"
    "Why not?" Eve strode out of the building, flipped the doorman a sneer. "It's theatrical, and if you wind it all around, the plant was so obvious it looks like a plant. So..." She climbed behind the wheel, drummed her fingers on it, and frowned. "Whoever planted it wanted us to find it, wanted us to know it was put there to toss suspicion on Mansfield. Otherwise, it's just stupid, and whoever set the murder up isn't. I want to know who worked backstage who wanted to be on it. Let's see how many frustrated actors were doing tech duty on this thing."
    Eve pulled away from the curb. "Toss that ball to Feeney," she ordered Peabody, and used her car 'link to contact the morgue.
    Morse, the chief medical examiner, came on-screen. His luxurious hair was