"Carly Landsdowne, Diane in this tragic production." She shifted her large blue eyes to the cabinet. "I hope you don't think Pete had anything to do with what happened to Richard. Old Pete wouldn't hurt a fly if it was buzzing in his ear."

"Pete would be the property master?"

"Yes. And as harmless as they come. That can't be said for everyone in this little circus."

"Obviously. Is there something specific you want?"

"Only to say what I doubt most of the others will, at least initially. Everyone hated Richard."

"Including you?

"Oh, absolutely." She said it with a brilliant smile. "He'd step on your lines every chance he got, cut off your mark, anything that would draw the attention onto him and off anyone else. Offstage, he was a vicious little worm. His world revolved around one thing, his own ego."

She gave a delicate shrug. "You'll hear it from someone eventually, so I thought it would be best if you heard it from me. We were lovers for a brief period. It ended a couple of weeks ago, in a nasty little scene. Richard was fond of nasty little scenes and staged this one for the biggest impact. During our first full dress rehearsal."

"I take it he broke things off."

"He did." She said it carelessly, but the gleam in those green eyes told Eve the resentment still simmered. "He went out of his way to charm 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 scowled down at the prop knife before she dared to raise her eyebrows. It had been her first up-close look at Roarke, and she considered him worth two big eyesful.

"Finish the sweep, Lombowsky."

"On it, Lieutenant."

Eve strode offstage and caught Peabody coming out of a dressing room. "I've got four of the interviews scheduled."

"Fine. Change of plan for tonight." Eve held up the dummy knife. "Sweepers found this in Mansfield 's dressing room, tucked in with some roses."

"You going to charge her?"

"Her lawyer'd get her bounced before I got her into Central. It's awfully damn pat, isn't it, Peabody? She kills him in front of a packed house and stashes the prop knife in her own dressing room. Very neat or very stupid." Eve turned the evidence bag over in her hands. "Let's see what she has to say about it. Where's the cast lounge?"

"Lower level. We can take the stairs."

"Fine. You know anything about actors?"

"Sure. Free-Agers are big on all the arts. My mother did some little theater when I was coming up, and two of my cousins are actors. Live stage work and small screen stuff. And my great-grandmother was a performance artist in San Francisco before she retired. Then there's my – "

"Okay, all right." Shaking her head, Eve clattered down the stairs. "How did you stand all those people crowding into your life?"

"I like people," Peabody said cheerfully.

"Why?"

Since it wasn't a question that required an answer, Peabody gestured to the left as they came to the bottom of the steps. "You like them, too. You just pretend to be snarly."

"I am snarly. If and when I cut Mansfield loose, or she lawyers, I want you to stick with her. If she goes home, settles in, call for a couple of uniforms to watch her place. We've got enough for a surveillance clearance. I want to know where she goes and what she does."

"Want me to run the background check on her now?"

"No, I'll take care of it."

Eve pulled open the door to the lounge. As with anything Roarke had his fingers in, it was far from shabby. Obviously he wanted the talent comfortable and had spared no expense to insure it.

There were two separate seating areas with plush sofas flanked by serving droids. The room bent into an ell, with the short leg offering an AutoChef she assumed was fully stocked, a clear-fronted friggie holding a variety of cold drinks, and a small, separate table with a slick little computer setup.