Brotherhood in Death (In Death 42)

“The biggest.”

“I guess you didn’t have time to try to reach him. Try his ’link.”

“I did, actually. I left a couple v-mails. The last one, during intermission, was pretty pissy. God. And when the show was over—six curtain calls, and a standing O—what did I do? I sulked about it.”

“You wanted to share it with him,” Trueheart prompted.

“I’ve got a girl, too, and she was there. But . . . he’s the one I wanted most. I just wanted him to see all that faith and support, they weren’t wasted.”

“You wanted to make him proud.”

“More than anything. So when he didn’t come, didn’t contact me, didn’t even send a message, I thought, Okay, fine, and went to the after-party. I drank a shitload of champagne, basked in the glory, basked some more when the reviews started coming in. Megastar—that’s me—in a megahit. I?

?m a freaking triple threat who owned the stage. Yeah, I basked. We’re all flying, nobody wants to let go of the night, you know. We’re going to go have some food somewhere, but I can’t let it go, I can’t let go he didn’t come. So I tell everybody I’ll catch up, but I have to take care of something.”

He took a breath. “I know it was getting on to three o’clock by then. It just started nagging at me. My voice coach was there, my ex-girlfriend was there, my girlfriend, actors I’d worked with off Broadway, friends from Juilliard, all there. But the most important person hadn’t come. And it nagged at me because why hadn’t he come? I finally realized—got over myself and realized—something must’ve happened. Maybe he got sick or had an accident, something. So I came over, half expecting to find him sick in bed, or hurt on the floor—though he’s healthy as they get and really fit. Then I opened the door, and . . . God. God, God, God.”

Eve gave him a minute while he wrapped his arms tight, rocked, as tears streamed down his face.

“Mr. Baker—”

“Jonas. You could call me Jonas. I was named for him.”

“Jonas, was the door secured?”

“Was the door secured? Ah, yes. Yes, I have the swipe, the codes. I came in, and saw him. I thought: That’s not real. It can’t be real. I called for him, I actually called for him as if he could make it stop.”

His breath tore; his voice broke.

“It’s okay, Jonas.” Trueheart’s voice was gentle as a mother’s touch. “Take a minute. Take your time.”

“It’s just—I didn’t know what to do. I feel like I just stood there forever, doing nothing. Telling myself it wasn’t happening. Just stood there. Then, I don’t know, I looked down and my ’link was in my hand. I don’t remember getting it out of my pocket. Don’t remember doing it. I called nine-one-one, and the guy on the other end, he kept telling me to stay calm, to breathe, help was coming. And the police came. Everything in slow motion but really fast. How can that be? I didn’t know what to do for him. He always knew what to do for me.”

“You did the right thing,” Trueheart assured him. “You did what was best for him. You got help.”

“They—someone—took his life. And they took his dignity. Why?”

“It’s my job to find that out.” As Trueheart played it easy, Eve played it brisk. “When was the last time you spoke with him?”

“Yesterday. Early in the afternoon. I tagged him to remind him his ticket was at the box office, and I could tell he was upset about something. His old friend Edward Mira died. He’d been murdered. Granddad didn’t have a lot of the details, but . . .”

Now any hint of color drained. “Jesus God. Senator Mira, and now Granddad. Is it the same? Is it the same person who did this?”

“Did you know Senator Mira?”

“Yeah, sure. He and my grandfather go way back—they were college buddies, and they stayed friends. Miss—”

“Lieutenant. Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Lieutenant. Is it the same? Did the same person kill them both?”

“We’re pursuing all leads and angles.” She hesitated a moment. He wasn’t in this, she thought. And if he was, he already knew. “There are enough similarities that I believe the same person or persons are involved.”

“But that’s . . . it’s crazy.”

“Nonetheless. When you spoke to your grandfather, did he express any thoughts or opinions on the senator’s murder?”

“He didn’t seem to have any real details. I was on a media blackout—just keeping my head in the play—so I hadn’t heard. He said it seemed as if someone had abducted Senator Mira, and killed him. He was shaken up—like I said, they went back. I never thought of it, not when he didn’t show for the play. I didn’t think of it, or that he’d be grieving. If I’d gotten out of myself long enough to think of him, I would have. And I’d have left him be. I wouldn’t have come here this morning. I don’t know which is worse.”