In Death 10 - Witness in Death

with that investigation and will find themselves transported to the nearest station house where they will be kept in holding. I want this stage cleared, and cleared now!"
    "Let's move." The brunette with the bit part as Vole's tootsie gracefully stepped over the unconscious Christine. "A couple of you big strong men pick up our leading lady, will you? I need a goddamn drink." She glanced around, her eyes cool, clear, and green. "Is that allowed, Lieutenant?"
    "As long as it's not on my crime scene."
    Satisfied, Eve pulled out her communicator. "Dallas, Lieutenant Eve." Once more she crouched beside the body. "I need a crime scene unit dispatched immediately."
    "Eve." Doctor Mira hurried across the stage. "Roarke told me..." She trailed off, looked down at the body. "Good lord." She let out a long breath, shifted her gaze back to Eve. "What can I do?"
    "Right now, you can stand by. I don't have a field kit. Peabody's on the way, and I've sent for the crime scene team, and the ME. But until they get here, you're both the doctor on-scene and a designated police and security official. Sorry to screw up your evening."
    Mira shook her head, started to kneel by the body.
    "No, watch the blood. You'll contaminate my scene and ruin your dress."
    "How did it happen?"
    "You tell me. We all watched it. Using my acute powers of observation, I identify that knife as the murder weapon." Eve spread her hands. "I don't even have a damn can of Seal-It. Where the hell is Peabody?"
    Frustrated that she couldn't begin a true examination or investigation without her tools, she spun around and spotted Roarke. "Would you hold here for me, Dr. Mira?"
    Without waiting for an answer, Eve strode stage left. "Tell me, the bit with the knife in the last scene. How does it work?" she asked Roarke.
    "Dummy knife. The blade retracts when it's pressed against a solid surface."
    "Not this time," Eve murmured. "The victim, what's his real name?"
    "Richard Draco. A very hot property. I suppose he's cooled off considerably now."
    "How well did you know him?"
    "Not well. I've met him socially a few times, but primarily I knew his work." Roarke tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels as he studied Draco's stunned and staring eyes. "He's a four-time Tony Award winner, garnered excellent reviews in the films he's done. He's a top box office draw, stage and screen, and has been so for a number of years. He has a rep," Roarke continued, "for being difficult, arrogant, and childish. Juggles women, enjoys a certain amount of chemical enhancements that might not meet the police department's code."
    "The woman who killed him?"
    "Areena Mansfield. Brilliant actress. A rare untemperamental type, and dedicated to her art. Very well respected in theater circles. She lives and works primarily in London but was persuaded to relocate to New York for this role."
    "By who?"
    "Partially by me. We've known each other for a number of years. And no," he added, dipping his hands in his pockets again, "I've never slept with her."
    "I didn't ask that."
    "Yes, you did."
    "Okay, if I did, we'll have the follow-up. Why haven't you slept with her?"
    A faint smile lifted his mouth. "Initially because she was married. Then, when she wasn't..." He ran a fingertip along the dent in Eve's chin. "I was. My wife doesn't like me to sleep with other women. She's very strict about it."
    "I'll make a note of that." She considered her options, juggled them. "You know a lot of these people, or have impressions of them anyway. I'm going to want to talk to you later." She sighed. "On the record."
    "Of course. Is it possible this was an accident?"
    "Anything's possible. I need to examine the knife, and I can't touch the fucker until Peabody gets here. Why don't you go back there, do a pat and stroke on your people? And keep your ears open."
    "Are you asking me to assist in an official police investigation?"
    "No, I am not." And despite the circumstances, her lips wanted to quiver. "I just said keep your ears open." She tapped a finger on his chest. "And stay out of my way. I'm on duty."
    She turned away as she heard the hard clop of what could only be police-issue shoes.
    Peabody's were shined to a painful gleam Eve could spot across the length of the stage. Her winter-weight uniform coat was buttoned to the throat of a sturdy body. Her cap sat precisely at the correct angle atop her dark, straight hair.
    They crossed the stage from opposite ends, met at the body. "Hi, Dr.