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“You didn’t, not really. She was just an asshole.”
“Remember that.”
They walked into the conference room. There another board stood, immediately pissing Eve off as she saw her own ID shot beside Marlo’s, Roarke’s beside Julian’s, and right down the line.
The man who completed the board stood tall in a snappy smoke-gray suit. His glossy black hair curled to the nape of his neck. Cuff links glinted silver at his cuffs.
He turned, a stranger to her with a striking face highlighting his mixed-race heritage with mocha cream skin, long, dark eyes tipped at the corners and heavily lashed. When he smiled, his mouth bowed and showed a hint of dimple at the left corner.
“Lieutenant Dallas.” His voice was the same as his skin, rich and creamy. “Detective Peabody.”
“This is Kyung Beaverton,” Whitney told them. “He works with Chief Tibble, who has assigned him to us for the duration of this matter.”
“Kyung, please.” He held out a hand to Eve, then Peabody. “I’m pleased to help you navigate the media maze we expect, and are, in fact, already in. Will you sit?”
Eve ignored the question. “Start by telling me why you’ve got us up there with the suspects.”
“Because the media will, and again, have already done so. It’s annoying, but reality often is. You aren’t she; she is not you, but this connection will be made over and over. So we address it.”
He spread his long-fingered hands. “While you respect the actor portraying you, she is only portraying a reflection, and indeed on a case already investigated and closed. You expect Marlo Durn will continue to portray other characters, fictional and nonfictional, while you will continue to investigate homicides. Your priority, at this time, is the investigation of the unfortunate death of—”
“The ME’s determined homicide,” Whitney told him.
“Ah. The murder of K.T. Harris. You will be pursuing all possible leads in this matter, and can and will not discuss the details of an active investigation.”
“Okay.” Eve relaxed a little. He didn’t seem to be as much of a dick as liaisons she’d dealt with before.
“It’s been reported you argued with the victim prior to her death.”
“That’s inaccurate.”
“Good.” He lifted a finger, wagged it like a teacher at an exceptional pupil. “Excellent, in fact. Please sit. I was able to... requisition the brand of coffee you prefer. We’ll have coffee, and you’ll tell me—exactly—what passed between you and the victim. Detective Peabody, please feel free to add your own thoughts, or anything you overheard said at the table during this byplay.”
“Byplay.” Eve studied Kyung as he programmed coffee for all.“That’s a good one. Quick spin.”
“Good, quick—and plausible—spins are my job. I’m good at my job, Lieutenant, as I know you and your partner are at yours.”
He smiled, winningly. “You don’t like—and even resent—all of this. I don’t blame you. You’re not required to like the media maze, which is why you’ll do well to let me guide the direction.”
He smiled again as he set the pot of coffee on the table. “I do like it. We do better at our work if we enjoy it, don’t we?”
No, not a dick, but a manipulator. A smooth one. That she could respect. “Okay, Kyung, here’s how it went.”
She gave him the “byplay” essentially word for word.
“An appropriate response to an inappropriate statement,” Kyung commented. “Was anything else said?”
“Not between us. I figured she had a problem with members of the cast, and that problem was enhanced by her drinking. As I didn’t know she’d end up dead, I didn’t pay much attention to her.”
“She called you a bitch.” Peabody hunched her shoulders when eyes shifted to her. “After everybody started talking again, she muttered ‘bitch’ under her breath. McNab told me later. He was sitting next to her. It pissed him off, but he said he ignored her because he figured you didn’t want any more, um, byplay.”
“He was right. Plus, if somebody doesn’t call me a bitch once a day, I figure I’m not doing my job.”
Kyung smiled at that. “I think you’ll do very well with the media, with just that tone and attitude.”
Eve eyed him. “The liaison usually pushes me to play nice, be diplomatic. And wear lip dye.”
“Different circumstances, different styles.” He merely shrugged. “I believe you should be just as you are, just have responses ready for questions we expect will be asked. And when you’re asked about this incident at dinner—and you will be—you should respond as you did to me. Argument is inaccurate. Ms. Harris made an inappropriate comment to which you casually responded. This byplay was the only time you and Ms. Harris spoke during the evening. If you would say this in a matter-of-fact, unhurried way, then take another question, it should do well enough.”
