me, and once I was charmed, he went out of his way to humiliate me in front of the cast and crew. This was my first Broadway production."
She glanced around, and though her lips were curved, the smile was sharp as broken glass. "I was green, Lieutenant, but I ripen fast. I won't bother to say I'm sorry he's dead, but I will say I don't think he was worth killing."
"Were you in love with him?"
"I don't have room for love at this point in my career, but I was... dazzled. Much, I think as my character was dazzled by Leonard Vole. I doubt there's anyone involved in this production who didn't have some grudge against Richard. I wanted to be up front about mine."
"I appreciate that. You said he humiliated you. In what way?"
"In his last scene, the one where I come down with him into the courtroom and he confronts Christine, he broke off my lines to her, stormed around the stage, claiming my delivery was flat."
Her lips compressed, her eyes slitted. "He compared its lack of passion and style to my performance in bed. He called me a brainless rube who was trying to trade her lack of talent on mildly attractive looks and a good pair of breasts."
Carly brushed back her hair, a lazy gesture in direct contrast with the bright fury in her eyes. "He said I was boring, and while I'd amused him for a while, if I couldn't pretend to act in my minor capacity, he'd see I was replaced with someone who could."
"And this came as a complete surprise to you?"
"He was a snake. Snakes strike quickly, because they're cowards. I gave back a few shots, but they weren't my best. I wasn't prepared, and I was embarrassed. Richard stalked offstage, locked himself in his dressing room. The assistant director went off to try to placate him, and we ran the scene again with Richard's stand-in."
"Who's the stand-in?"
"Michael Proctor. He's very good, by the way."
"And if the play goes back into production, would he step into the part?"
"That's a question for the producers, I imagine. But it wouldn't surprise me, at least in the short term."
"I appreciate the information, Miss Landsdowne." And that much information, unbidden, was always suspect.
"I've got nothing to hide." She moved her shoulders again and kept those big green eyes on Eve's face. "And if I did, I imagine you'd dig it out. I've heard quite a bit about Roarke's cop wife over the last few months. It took a certain arrogance, don't you think, to choose a night you'd be in the audience to do murder?"
"Arrogance is required to take another's life. I'll be in touch, Miss Landsdowne."
"I don't doubt it."
Eve waited until the woman was nearly to the wings. "One thing."
"Yes?"
"You don't care much for Areena Mansfield either."
"I don't have strong feelings about her one way or the other." Carly tilted her head, lifted one eyebrow in a high arch. "Why do you ask?"
"You weren't very sympathetic when she fainted."
The smile came back, bright enough to play to the back rows. "A damn graceful faint, wasn't it? Actors, Lieutenant Dallas, you can't trust them."
With a casual toss of her hair, she made her exit.
"So," Eve murmured, "who's performing?"
"Lieutenant." One of the sweepers, a young, fresh-faced woman, marched up to Eve. Her baggy protective jumpsuit made little swishing noises with each step. "Got a little toy here I think you'll want to take a look at."
"Well, well." Eve took the evidence bag, pursed her lips as she studied the knife. Through the clear plastic she fingered the tip of the blade, felt it retract. "Where'd you find this, ah..." She scanned the name stitched on the breast of the dull gray jumpsuit. "Lombowsky."
"In a vase full of genuine long-stemmed red roses. Nice flowers. The room was packed with them like it was a state funeral or something. Areena Mansfield's dressing room."
"Good work."
"Thanks, Lieutenant."
"Do you know where Mansfield is?"
"She's in the cast lounge. Your man's with her."
"Peabody?"
"No, sir. Your husband." Lombowsky waited until Eve