Dark in Death (In Death 46)

“Miss Brooke, I’m sorry to inform you Chanel Rylan was killed last night.”

“That’s not funny.” All the shine dropped now, and angry insult took its place. “That’s an ugly thing to say. David!”

Eve continued to face Jessilyn, just held up a hand to stop David if he tried to come back.

“It’s not meant to be funny, and murder is usually ugly.”

“Stop it. Just stop it.”

“You and Chanel were competing for this part.”

“Stop it. I want you to stop this right now.”

Eve took out her badge. “Look at this. I’m with the NYPSD. I’m investigating the murder of Chanel Rylan. I need you to answer some questions.”

“This isn’t—I can’t—But …” She pressed a hand to her mouth, sucked air through her fingers. “They knew. They knew, and didn’t tell me. They … I get it.” Closing her eyes, she rocked in her chair. “I get it. The show must go on. I get it. Chanel gets it. We all get it. Oh God, what happened to her? What happened?”

“She was stabbed.”

Tears glimmered, shimmered, spilled. “A mugging?”

“If you’d answer the questions. Tell me where you were last night, from five to seven.”

“Where I … I’d kill her for a part? Is that what you think?”

“Can you tell me?”

“God. God. I … I went to my friend’s dance studio after work. Wait.”

As tears continued to leak, she pressed her fingers to her eyes, took several hitching breaths.

Lowering her hands, she gripped them tightly in her lap.

“I worked from eleven to six—I bartend at Sylvia’s. I went to Missy’s studio. I—I picked up some Chinese on the way, at ah, oh Jesus, at the Brass Gong. I waited until she’d finished her last class. She ran lines with me for today, and I rehearsed the number, she helped me with the dance. We went out for one drink after, then I went home to get a solid eight hours—to be fresh for today.”

She paused again, struggling. “To be fresh, to be my best because I was going up against Chanel. I was with Missy—and Hank came into the studio for about an hour. I was there from like, six-fifteen, six-thirty until ten, I guess. And we had a drink back at Sylvia’s before I went home.”

“All right. I’d like the contact information for your friends.”

“Chanel was my friend, too.” The words blurred on a sob. “Not like Missy and Hank, but a friend. We were up for this part, and we’ve been up against each other for others. Sometimes I got it, sometimes she got it. Sometimes we both washed out. I wanted this one bad, that’s no secret. It would’ve crushed me to lose out, but you get used to being crushed or you go back to Wisconsin and do community theater.

“Lola! Her roommate, her person is Lola, like Missy’s mine, and I can’t remember her last name. Does Lola know?”

“Yes. Did you socialize with Chanel?”

“Sure. Sure, we hung plenty.” She swiped at tears with her hands. “We’re theater people. You hang together or you hang separately. I’ve got better pipes, she has better pins. If one of us had a part, the other sometimes helped in practice—voice for me, dance for her. She dated my ex-boyfriend before he was my boyfriend.”

She stared up at the empty stage.

“When we got this callback, we made a pact. It wasn’t easy because we both really wanted it, but we made a pact. Whichever of us got it, the other would pitch in. I’d work with her on the songs, she’d work with me on the choreography.”

Eve guided her through a few more questions, took the contact information.

“Do you think I should get in touch with Lola? I don’t know if she’d want to talk to me. I got the part.”

“Would you have kept the pact?”

“Yeah, sure. Chanel would have kept it, too. It wasn’t our first pact.”