In Death 03 - Immortal in Death by authors_sort

sarcastic tone. This up-and-coming designer Jerry tells me is brilliant. Michelangelo, Puccini, Leonardo. Something of the kind. Paul Redford, the video producer who joined us that night."
    He took a sip of his coffee, then blinked. "Leonardo. Yes, it was Leonardo. There was some sort of tiff there. A woman came by the house while we were there. They fought over him. An old-fashioned catfight. It would have been amusing if it hadn't been so embarrassing for everyone involved."
    He spread his elegant fingers, looked mildly amused despite his statement. Well done, Eve thought. Well rehearsed, good timing, lines professionally punched.
    "It took Paul and I both to separate them."
    "The woman came to Pandora's home and attacked her, physically?" Eve asked in carefully neutral tones.
    "Oh no, not at all. The poor thing was devastated, pleading. Pandora called her a few vile names and hit her." Justin demonstrated by making a fist, jerking it. "Really socked her. The woman was small, but she was game. Scrambled right up and plowed in. After that it was wrestling and hair pulling, scratching. The woman was bleeding some when she left. Pandora had lethal nails."
    "Pandora scratched the woman's face?"
    "No. Though I'm sure she was going to have quite a bruise. It was her neck as I recall. Four long, nasty scratches on the side of the neck where Pandora raked her. The woman, I'm afraid I don't know her name. Pandora just called her bitch, and varieties of the same. She was trying not to cry when she left, and told Pandora, quite dramatically, that Pandora would be sorry for what she'd done. Then I'm afraid she ruined her exit by sniffling and claiming that love conquers all."
    It sounded just like Mavis, Eve thought. "And after she left, how did Pandora behave?"
    "She was furious, overexcitable. That's why Jerry and I left early."
    "And Paul Redford?"
    "He stayed; I can't say how long." With a sigh that signaled regret, Justin set his coffee aside. "It's unfair to say anything negative about Pandora when she can't defend herself, but she was hard, very often abrasive. Cross her, and you paid."
    "And did you ever cross her, Mr. Young?"
    "I was careful not to." He smiled charmingly. "I enjoy my career and my looks, Lieutenant. Pandora was no threat to the first, but I'd seen and heard of her doing some damage to faces when annoyed. Believe me, she didn't wear her manicure like knives just for fashion."
    "She had enemies."
    "Plenty of them, most of whom were terrified of her. I can't imagine who might have finally snapped and struck back at her. And from the news reports I've heard, I can't believe even Pandora deserved to die so brutally."
    "We appreciate your candor, Mr. Young. If it's convenient, we'd like to speak with Ms. Fitzgerald now. Alone."
    He lifted a slim, elegant brow. "Yes, of course. No coordinating stories."
    Eve only smiled. "You've had plenty of time to do that already. But we'd like to speak to her alone."
    She had the pleasure of seeing his smooth facade shaken a bit by her statement. Still, he rose and walked toward a connecting corridor.
    "What do you think?" Feeney muttered.
    "I think it was a hell of a performance."
    "We're on wavelength there. Still, if he and Fitzgerald were ripping up the sheets all night, it keeps him in the clear."
    "They alibi each other, it keeps them both in the clear. We'll get the security discs from building management, check what time they came in. See if they went out again."
    "I never trust those, not since the DeBlass case."
    "If they diddled with the discs, you'll see it." She glanced up at the sound of Feeney sucking in his breath. His hangdog face had gone terrier bright. His eyes were glazed. After a glimpse at Jerry Fitzgerald's entrance, Eve wondered why Feeney's tongue wasn't hanging out.
    She was built, all right, Eve mused. Her lush breasts were barely covered with ivory silk that dipped nipple low, clung, then halted briefly a few millimeters below crotch level. One long,