Fantasy in Death by J. D. Robb Page B

into Peabody’s lap, and Eve knew her work was done. “I swear ! Don’t make me look.”
    “Okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to look. Have some more water. We’ll wait until you’re feeling steady again.”
    “Fine, that’s fine.” Eve pushed the photos back in the file. “You want to coddle him, he’s all yours. I can’t stand being in the same room with him. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, exiting Interview.”
    She slammed the door behind her, but not before she heard Roland’s breathless thank-you to her partner.
    Satisfied with Part A, she headed to the next interview room for Part B.
    Milt Dubrosky had the buffed and polished looks of a spa rat. She imagined he devoted a good part of his day to the gym, and a good part of his week to treatments. His hair—too perfectly streaked to be nature’s gift—lay in subtle waves around a smooth, fine-boned face. His eyes, a soft, shimmering blue flashed out of long, dark lashes as he beamed out a high-wattage smile.
    “Officer, I don’t know why I’m here, but at least the view just got a whole lot better.”
    “Lieutenant.”
    His smile flashed along with his eyes as he executed a snappy salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”
    “Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, in Interview with Dubrosky, Milton, on the matter of the murder of Minnock, Bart.”
    “What?” Those bold eyes widened as he sucked in a breath. “Bart’s been murdered? When? What happened?”
    “You’ve been in Interview before, Dubrosky.” She tapped the file that held his record. “So you know I’m the one who asks questions, and you’re the one who answers them. Have you been read your rights?”
    “Yeah, the cops who brought me in. But they didn’t tell me anything.”
    “Can you verify your whereabouts from between three p.m. and eight p.m. yesterday?”
    “Sure. Sure. I was at my salon—that’s Urban Meadows—from about one to three-thirty, then I met a friend for coffee. I did some shopping and went to another friend’s place about five-thirty. Roland, Roland Chadwick. He works for Bart at U-Play. He got in shortly after I did, and we stayed in the rest of the night. He can vouch.”
    “The name and contact information for your coffee date.”
    “No problem. Britt Casey.” He rattled off a ’link number and an Upper West Side address. “We’re in a workshop together. Acting workshop. So we get together now and then to discuss craft.”
    He was good, Eve decided, but not that good. Poor Roland, she thought, just how many ways can you be duped? “And what time did you leave your acting pal and head out on your own?”
    “Sometime around five, I guess.”
    “Coffee and shopping date. Where did you have coffee? Where did you shop? Do you have receipts?”
    “I don’t actually remember the name of the coffee shop. And I didn’t actually buy anything. It was more window-shopping.”
    Eve said nothing, just stared at him.
    “Okay, look. I was at the salon like I said. My consultant’s name is Nanette. You can ask her. And I met Britt after, but it wasn’t for coffee, if you get me.” He tried the smile again, one that said I’m a scamp, but you gotta love me. “We went to the Oaks Hotel for a couple hours. See, the thing is, she’s married and I’m sort of living with someone.”
    “Chadwick?”
    “Ah, no. But my roommate and Britt? They don’t know about each other. I’d really appreciate it if they could keep not knowing about each other.”
    “Name of the roommate?”
    “Chelsea Saxton.”
    Eve lifted her brows. “And where, exactly, does Roland Chadwick fit in?”
    Dubrosky lifted his shoulders, let them fall in an oops gesture. “You could say I’m sort of semi-living with him, too.”
    “With him also unaware of the other two, and they of him?”
    “What can I say? I’m a people person.”
    “That’s a lot of juggling. A man that adept at juggling would be able to juggle enough time in for a stopover at Bart’s apartment.”
    “Never been there.” He