Peabody flipped back, curious. Then tried to flip a page over quickly to cover. Eve slapped her hand down.
Mars had devoted an entire page to a blown-up still of Roarke and the woman who’d been in his life long before Eve. The woman who’d come back into his life—their lives—briefly to try to destroy their marriage.
“Magdelana,” Eve murmured. “The picture she set up.”
Her arms around Roarke, their bodies close, and her face turned—cheating out, Mavis had called it—so the camera could capture her full beauty.
She had notes there—Magdelana’s name, her ex-husbands, some of her data—most of it probably as bogus as Larinda’s had been.
Does one operator recognize another? Eve wondered.
Eve turned the page, found more notes on the next page.
Where the hell did she go? Did Roarke sleep with her?
Weak spot? Possible seduction route? How much does she know? Have on him? On Dallas?
“That’s the door.” Peabody cleared her throat. “Probably McNab.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Don’t take in that bitch’s bullshit, Dallas.”
“Huh? No.” Eve looked up. “I’m not.” To prove it, she closed the book, pulled out another.
But when Peabody left to let in EDD, Eve sat a moment, looking back, seeing the stunning blond in the red dress.
19
When McNab bounced up the stairs, Eve turned the comp over to him. She carted a couple more books over to the sofa, opened a fresh one.
“Broadcasting marks and potentials. Roman numeral fives, her high score, hits a few here. The assistant she screwed with, Phoebe Michaelson, earned one with a star instead of a dollar sign. And I’ve got some guy with three stars she connects to Bellami—to using sex drugs, having access to questionable sex workers.”
“That’ll be who doctored Bellami’s drink for the setup.”
“Yeah.” Eve nodded absently at Peabody. “We’ll be paying him a visit before we’re done. Some more names here, some from Channel Seventy-Five,” she continued as she turned pages. “Here’s Annie Knight—she earns four full pages. Hits the five with dollar signs. Ah, and she had one of Knight’s team on the hook. Ilene Riff, in wardrobe, two stars for information.”
“What did she have on her?” Peabody asked.
“Daughter’s an addict with emotional issues. Eating disorder, a cutter with a taste for punch. Bumps for solicitation without a license, petty theft, assault. Two rounds of rehab, two short stints in a cage. Currently in a halfway house and clean according to the copy of the report Mars got her hands on. Looks like Riff’s working nights waiting tables to pay off the second round of rehab.
“We’ll talk to her,” Eve said as she turned another page. “And here’s Nadine.”
Peabody puffed out a breath. “I guess that’s expected.”
“Low score and, knowing Nadine, she’s going to be pretty pleased with just how much Mars disliked her.”
“I’m in,” McNab announced. “Want me to start pulling things out?”
“I’ll start that.” Eve noticed his gaze shift and lock on the vault. Wistfully. “Have you ever cracked a Podark?”
“No, but I’d sure like to play.”
“Roarke’s on the way.”
Now came a sigh. Wistful. “Better idea.”
“How about checking security, seeing if you can find the last time Mars came in and out? And there’s a domestic droid in the kitchen, disengaged. Mars must have used it for basic cleaning. Whatever you can get.”