“Sixteen houseguests, eight staff.”
“Twenty-four interviews? It’ll take hours.”
“Then I’d get started. Out.”
Eve picked up her ’link, and considered it a good omen when Roarke answered personally. “Lieutenant. What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering how you’d feel about meeting me at a sex club.”
“How odd. I was just thinking what we might do this evening, and that was top of my list.”
“Bang She Bang, downtown on Spring. Does an hour from now work for you?”
“I can make it work considering the incentive.”
A stray thought brought on a scowl. “You don’t own it, do you?”
He cocked a brow. “I don’t believe I own any establishment with that name. I could probably pick it up within the hour if that would help.”
She’d bet more than Peabody’s twenty he could do just that. “No, thanks. I’ll just use the Power of Roarke to my advantage on this one.”
“I thought it was the Fear of Roarke.”
“Depends on the situation. I’m thinking power will squeeze more juice out of this one than fear.”
“Either are at your disposal. In an hour, Lieutenant.”
After he clicked off she made a few calls, scribbled a few notes, imagined sitting on her hands to keep herself from nagging Feeney.
Peabody hailed her as Eve started out. “I talked to the girl toy—Angel Scarlett. She got all choked up when I mentioned the old man. I don’t think she’s going to be winning any awards as an actress. Her rundown was consistent with her earlier statement, but not so exact it felt practiced.”
Peabody did a left-to-right swivel in her chair. “She and the old man had taken a nap—which she made sure I knew was a euphemism for boinking, then she went down to take a swim. She was in the pool with some of the other guests—and that’s consistent with their original statements—when the old man went down in the shower.”
Peabody glanced down at her notes. “Cocktails and canapes were being served out there. I asked casually about her hostess, and she was offhand about that. Ava was flitting around somewhere, like always. You were off on the martini. It was a gin and tonic, which was the old man’s summer drink of choice. Ava was mixing gin and tonics herself, and commented that the old man wasn’t down. Wouldn’t Tommy go up and tell his father they were all having cocktails. A few minutes later, he ran out on the terrace, up outside the old man’s room, yelled for help. He’d already called nine-one-one, already moved the body in an attempt to revive. That’s all in the reports. But I did get something new.”
“Stun me.”
“It probably won’t stun you that Angel wasn’t, and isn’t, Ava’s biggest fan. Cold, snobbish, self-righteous—and those were the compliments. And she said she thought things were a little chilly between Ava and the old man that weekend.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t know. Her ‘big white bear’ as she called him never talked business with her, and never gossiped about family. He didn’t care for it when she complained about Ava’s attitude toward her, so she kept it to herself. But she noticed they weren’t all chummy, as usual. Didn’t have coffee together by the pool that morning, and that was a habit of theirs. She suspected they’d had a little spat, but since she didn’t know, kept that to herself, too.”
“Write it up, log it in. I may have a line to tug on that. Later.”
The trip down to Spring, an exercise in tedium on the best days, became a pitched battle due to an overturned glide-cart and the stalled Rapid Cab that had crashed into its grill. Even from ten cars back, Eve could see it would only get worse as the cab driver and the cart operator were currently beating the snot out of each other.
Eve called it in, snapping out an order for a black-and-white or patrol droids. Pissed, she slammed out of her vehicle, whipping out her badge as she strode forward. Mostly, she noted, the two men were just rolling around on raw soy fries and dogs, bapping each other on the back.
“Break it up! NYPSD, and I said break it up.” She gave both of their shins a sharp rap with her boot. “Break it up or I’m hauling you both in. And as God is my witness, if any piece of either one of you makes contact with any piece of me, you’re serving the full pop on assaulting an officer.”
Both men lifted bloodied faces to hers, and began to shout complaints and accusations.
“Zip it! And you people! Go and find something else to do. Show’s over here. You, cab guy, what’s your story?”
“I’m cruising for a fare.” His voice was musical, a tropical island song that contrasted sharply with the bleeding mouth and swollen eye. “Guy’s hailing half a block down, and I gonna pick him up. And this one, this one, he shoves the cart out in the street. In front of me!”
“Fuck I did! Why’d I wanna do that? Wreck my cart thataway?”