“Don’t lick it. Once,” Eve said, knowing damn well she wouldn’t get past Reo without it. “You can touch it, but just once.”
“Mmmm. It’s gushy.”
“What is that word?” Eve muttered, striding out into the bullpen. “Peabody, with me. We’ll get you the sliver,” she said to Reo.
The wind whipped over the water and blew the scent of it inland. It was a pretty enough day, and the tourists took advantage, wandering the park, piling on ferries for a trip to Liberty Island. Gardens continued to bloom, the colors edged toward the rusts and umbers of fall.
Vendors had their stalls—the ever-enterprising locals—to hose those tourists on the price of a soy dog, souvenirs, guides, toss-away ’links and cameras for those who’d lost or forgotten their own.
Eve stood studying the marina where sleek boats rocked on the busy water.
The private section was gated off to discourage the curious, those inclined to vandalism or thievery. But she didn’t see it would be much of a problem to bypass. Just as she imagined those who could afford to dock—moor—whatever it was—their spiffy boat in this location had security measures on the spiffy boat.
“That’s Violet Holmes.” Peabody lifted her chin toward the woman walking toward the gate.
She wore a crisp red jacket, jeans embellished at the pocket with thin gold braid, and a striped red shirt. The floral scarf looped around her neck trailed behind her in the breeze.
A jaunty navy cap perched over her short, silver hair.
“Detective Peabody. And you’re Lieutenant Dallas.” Violet had a firm, no-nonsense handshake. “I feel I know you after reading the Icove book, and of course, following the reports on K.T.”
“You knew her?” Eve asked.
“Only slightly. I consider New York home now, and only get to the Coast occasionally. It’s interesting to meet you both, but I don’t understand your interest in Simone.”
“The boat,” Peabody explained to Eve.
“Named for my signature role. You’re both too young, but Simone launched my career. The boat’s ten now, and one of my greatest pleasures.”
“Speaking of that, your professional beginnings. Can you tell me if it’s usual for Joel Steinburger to give a rookie actress twenty thousand dollars?”
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s just one of those old details that popped up in routine investigation. Twenty thousand, transferred into your account—a brand-new account—on July eighteen, ’twenty-nine. Was that a usual practice?”
“No, not at all. Which is what makes Joel so unusual, and special. I remember it very well, as it deals, again, with Simone. The role. I wanted it desperately, and my readings went well. I worked on them for days.”
She laughed a little, looking back. “I ate, slept, breathed Simone. But while Joel wanted me for the part, the rest of the suits were holding out. I wasn’t beautiful enough, sophisticated enough. I wasn’t sultry, I wasn’t sexual. And so on.”
“Okay. Twenty thousand changed that?”
“You’d be surprised. Joel gave me the money out of his own pocket, took that risk. He had me hire one of the top consultants at the time—for fashion, hair, enhancements, attitude.” She laughed again. “God, it was exhilarating. And with this entirely new look and the ’tude that went with it, I went back in for another reading. And I got Simone. I owe Joel for that, and a good deal for everything that came after.”
“Were you lovers?”
“Not then. We were later, for a time. These are odd questions.”
“I know it seems that way. I have another. Since you remember the incident so well, you should remember what Joel asked you for in return.”
“To get the part.”
“A little favor, something he asked for at or near the same time.”
“I just don’t understand what this has to do with my boat.”
“There are all sorts of details we have to nail down.”
“Well, I do remember, as it was a particularly exciting time for me. It’s simple, really, and sweet, though I never really equated it with an exchange, as you’re saying. Not a favor for money.”