“No. I might’ve said something like I had a hot one and that was why I was putting in some extra hours. But nothing specific. It’s Code Red.”
“Did he ask you about it?”
“He can’t ask me about what he doesn’t know,” she responded in a tone tight with impatience. “He was an artist, Roarke. His only interest in my work pertained to how I’d design and implement security for our house, and his work.”
“My wife’s a cop, and couldn’t be less interested in my business. But occasionally, for form anyway, she asks about it. How was your day, what are you working on, that sort of thing.”
“Sure, okay, sure. I’m not getting this.”
“Did he, or anyone else, ask you about this project, Reva?”
She leaned back. Her face was pale again, her voice thin and weary. “I guess he might have. What’s so hot about this one, something like that. I’d’ve told him I couldn’t talk about it. He might’ve teased me about it. He sometimes did that. Top secret, hush-hush. My wife, the secret agent or something.”
Her lip trembled so that she sank her teeth into it, biting back some control. “He got off on espionage, loved spy vids and games. But if he said anything it was just joking. You know how it is. Friends might do the same now and then, but they weren’t really interested.”
“Felicity, for instance?”
“Yeah.” And now those teary eyes opened, went hot. “She was all about art, fashion, socializing. Sneaky bitch. She’d say things like how could I stand being holed up in some lab all day, fiddling with codes and machines. And what was so damn interesting about that? But I never discussed details, not even on the minor projects. It would violate the confidentiality contract.”
“All right.”
“You’re thinking Blair’s dead and I’m in this fix because of the Code Red? That’s just not possible. He didn’t know anything, and nobody without clearance knew I was on it.”
“It may be very possible, Reva.”
Her head jerked around. Before she could speak, there was a brisk knock on the door. “
Time’s up,” Eve called out.
She opened the door just as Reva was getting slowly to her feet. Reading Reva’s expression, Eve nodded at Roarke. “I take it you laid the groundwork.”
“He knew she was working on a top-level project, but the details weren’t discussed.”
“This can’t have anything to do with what happened to Blair,” Reva insisted. “If this was a terrorist hit, why wouldn’t they come after me, or you?” she said to Roarke. “Or any active member of the team?”
“Let’s try to find out,” Eve suggested. “Come back in here so we can lay this all out once, for everyone.”
“What does killing Blair accomplish?” Reva hurried out behind Eve. “It doesn’t affect the project.”
“Got you booked on a double homicide, didn’t it? Sit down. When’s the last time either of you were in Bissel’s studio?”
“Months for me,” Caro responded. “I was there last spring. April? Yes, I’m sure it was April. He wanted to show me the fountain he was working on for Reva’s birthday.”
“I was there last month,” Reva said. “Early August. I went there after work to meet him. We were going to a dinner party at Felicity’s. He cleared me, and I went up, waited a few minutes while he finished changing.”
“Cleared you?” Eve prompted.
“Yeah. He was a maniac about his studio security. Nobody, but nobody got the passcode.”
“You gave me the passcode.”
Reva flushed, cleared her throat. “I accessed it—on that same visit. I just couldn’t resist. And it seemed like the perfect time to field test a new security scanner we were working on. So I accessed the code, tested it, and got clearance. Then I reset the security, and called up to Blair. I didn’t tell him because it would’ve pissed him off.”
“Did you ever go up there when he wasn’t around?”
“What for?”
“Poke around, see what he was up to.”