Passion,
Betrayal
And
Killer Highlights
Kyra Davis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication

For my mother, Gail Davis, who always offers me an ear when I need to vent, a shoulder when I need to cry and a hug when I crave the comfort of her unconditional love.

Acknowledgments

This book wouldn’t be in print if it weren’t for the hard work and enthusiasm of my agent, Ashley Kraas. I also want to thank my editor, Margaret O’Neill Marbury, for all of her guidance and support.

Kathy Vizas allowed me to pick her brain and benefit from her years of experience as a lawyer. Her insights proved to be indispensable for the plotting of this novel. The same could be said of the help I received from Lieutenant John Weiss who patiently answered my countless questions and actively assisted me with my research. Detective Sergeant Donna Lind was a fountain of information as well. I hope they will all forgive me for occasionally taking a bit of poetic license with the facts they so generously supplied me with.

Last but absolutely not least I need to thank my stepbrother Chris Sullivan for watching my son while I struggled to meet my deadlines, and my mother for all the free childcare she provided and for her willingness to be my brutally honest and marvelously detail-oriented volunteer proofreader.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

PROLOGUE

I arranged some Pacificos in an ice bucket and slipped Sarah McLachlan into the CD player in anticipation of Leah’s visit. My sister and I love Sarah. She may be the only thing we agree on. At first glance people always assume our differences fall into the good girl-black sheep categories, with me playing the role of the rebellious farm animal, but in reality it’s much more complicated than that.

First off, although in humid weather my shoulder-length hair can resemble a ball of fluffy fleece, thanks to the genes of our now deceased African-American father and our very much alive Latvian-Jewish mother, my skin tone is much more bronze than black and Leah’s is a bit on the olive side. Second, I’m not that rebellious and Leah’s not that good.

The difference between us lies in our approach to life. My motto is: Always be true to yourself. It’s why I became a writer. Writing’s one of the few careers in which I can be paid for being a nonconformist.

Leah, on the other hand, has made it her life’s ambition to be someone else, specifically Martha Stewart (without all that messy felonious stuff). She’s not very good at being Martha; her ethnicity makes that whole WASPy look hard to pull off (despite all the relaxers), she’s not all that creative and she’d rather die than see her name stamped across any item that would ever be carried at Kmart. Yet she keeps trying, and she’s certain that once she achieves her metamorphosis she’ll have found true inner peace. So it wasn’t a big surprise when she announced her engagement to Bob Miller. Bob’s as average as his name. He’s Caucasian of the mutt variety, of medium build, moderately intelligent and, when in social settings, reasonably polite if not out-and-out friendly…or personable…or enjoyable to be with in any way. But as far as Leah’s concerned Bob is Town and Country’s version of Prince Charming.

So unless Martha had written a book about the heightened social status of imported beer, it was probably a safe bet that Leah would not be drinking a Pacifico. But Anatoly Darinsky might be.

Lately Anatoly had been starring in a lot of my more memorable dreams. He’s tall, has dark brown hair that matches his penetrating eyes, a tight physique—you know, all the good stuff. But there’s more to it than that—something I can’t put my finger on but that makes me want to put my fingers on all sorts of other things. Not that Anatoly’s perfect. At times he can be cocky, egotistical, argumentative—and don’t even get me started about the defamatory statements he’s made regarding Frappuccinos. He also hates me.

I suppose he has his reasons. I did frame him for assault and battery, and I kind of inadvertently got him shot in the process, but that was all due to a big misunderstanding. I thought he was a psychotic serial killer who wanted to murder me in some violent and horrifying way, and he thought I was the psychotic killer. Or maybe he just thought I was psychotic. That’s the problem with our relationship—not enough open communication. If we just talked more, we would spend a lot less time trying to send each other to death row.

But now I had another chance with my non-murderous love interest, for Bob had given Leah reason to believe that he had been cheating on her, and as luck would have it Anatoly is a private investigator who has loads of experience proving and disproving those kinds of suspicions. I had to offer Anatoly an obscene amount of money, but I did get him to accept the case.

I kneeled down to stroke my cat underneath his chin. “Okay, Mr. Katz, our guests should be arriving—”

The buzzer echoed through my apartment.

“—now.”

CHAPTER 1

“My divorce attorney gave me a list of everything we can take from Dan,” she said mildly. “I’m beginning to think it would be more humane to just kill him.”

—Words To Die By

Anatoly pushed past me into my apartment without bothering to so much as grunt in greeting. “Where’s your sister?”

“Hello to you, too. Want a beer?” I popped the lid off one of the Pacificos.

He stuck his thumbs through his belt loops. “Where’s your sister?”

“You see, it’s like this—nobody ever told Leah about setting the clocks forward during daylight savings time, so she spends half the year running an hour behind.”

He took the beer and threw his jacket over the armrest of the love seat before lowering himself onto the leather cushions. “I’m not waiting an hour.”

“Oh, please, I was kidding.” I took a beer for myself and leaned against the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. “I’m sure she’ll be here in forty-five minutes, max.”

“She has twenty.”

“Okay, I know you’re pissed at me, Anatoly, but I’m paying you a lot of money to sit on your tuchas and drink my beer, so the least you can do is give her thirty.”

“Twenty-five. Why don’t you give me the details of the case while we wait? Why does Leah suspect her husband of sleeping around?”

“You know, the usual. After years of inattention he suddenly began to shower her with gifts while at the same time scheduling a lot of late-night meetings, and if that isn’t code for ‘I’m screwing my secretary’ I don’t know what is.”

Anatoly waited for me to continue and when I didn’t do so immediately his countenance assumed a more pleading expression. “There’s more than that, right? Tell me your sister isn’t as paranoid and insane as you are.”

“Oh, excuse me!” I slammed my beer on the counter. “I am nowhere near as crazy or paranoid as my sister!” Anatoly took a long swig of his beer in lieu of responding. I sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “A couple of weeks ago, the night before I accidentally got you shot…”

“Accidentally?”

“We’re not getting into that now. Anyway, Bob told her he had a dinner meeting with his employer so he wouldn’t be at Chalet.”

“Chalet?”

“His place of work, Chalet.com. They sell home furnishings via catalogs and the Internet. Think Pottery Barn but twice as expensive. Bob’s the comptroller. Anyhoo, that night James Sawyer, Bob’s employer, called looking for him. When Leah told him she thought Bob was with him, this Sawyer guy claimed that they had no plans to meet. When Bob came home, she asked him how the meeting went and he said it was great. Gave her all these details that she didn’t even ask for. Just totally lying. The next day he got her a pair of 1.5-carat studs. God, he’s such a pig.”

Anatoly jotted something down in a pocket notebook. “She have any idea who he’s cheating on her with?”

The buzzer went off before I had a chance to respond. “Well I guess you’ll just have to ask her yourself.” I pressed the intercom button. “Leah, is that you?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated. Leah is one of those people who uses five words in place of the one that was necessary. When she did opt for brevity it was never a good sign. I buzzed her in and stood by the door in wait.

When she reached the top of the stairs my level of alarm rose a notch. Her perpetually saturated hair seemed unusually devoid of products. As she moved closer I could see that the tip of her nose was a little too rosy and her waterproof mascara was barely hanging on. She nodded at me in acknowledgement before wordlessly passing into the apartment. She dropped her Louis Vuitton on the floor and paused while she impassively studied Anatoly.

He rose and offered his hand. “Hi, I’m…”

Leah walked past him to the window and stared blankly out at the street.

“Great. Just what I need, one more mentally imbalanced client.”

I gave Anatoly a warning look before crossing to my sister. “Leah?” I put a cautious hand on her shoulder. “Leah, Anatoly’s the PI I’ve told you about. He’s going to…”

“I don’t need him.”

I glanced at Anatoly, who looked incredibly relieved. I held my hand up to indicate that he was not yet free to bolt for the door. “Leah, I know you think that Bob’s cheating, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to get some proof before you—”

“He already confessed…this morning before he went to work. I was standing there holding my son, our son, and he confessed to screwing some pathetic little home-wrecker. He says he’s leaving me for her. Just throwing it all away for some twenty-one-year-old whore.”

I removed my hand from her shoulder and clenched it into a fist. I was going to kill the SOB. I was going to reach down his throat, grab his tonsils and—

“All right, then—”

I started at Anatoly’s chipper tone.

“Sophie, thanks for the beer. Leah, it was nice meeting you. All the luck with the divorce…”

“There’s not going to be a divorce.”

My head snapped from Anatoly back to Leah. Either I had just misheard her or she had lost her mind. “What do you mean there won’t be a divorce? You just said…”

“I’m going to fight—for him and for my family. I can win him back, Sophie. I know I can.”

She made eye contact with me for the first time, and I saw the desperation tempered with what I assumed was some kind of psychotic determination. I opened my mouth to speak before I had formulated what the next words should be.

“Even better, then,” Anatoly boomed. “I hope you two have a wonderful life together. See you around.”

“Anatoly!” But he was already out the door.

Pig. Men were all pigs. I turned back to Leah. “Honey, you know you can’t win this one. Even if he did come back to you, why would you want him?”

“I knew you’d say something like that. I’m sorry if I actually take my vows seriously—unlike some people around here. I took a vow—”

“Yeah, you did. So did Bob. But he broke the deal, Leah. You can’t honestly think of being loyal to someone who has no interest in being loyal to you.”

“Lots of marriages survive adulterous affairs. Just because yours didn’t…”

“And thank God it didn’t! Don’t you get it? Finding Scott with that Vegas showgirl was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Otherwise, I might have actually done something stupid like try to stick it out in a doomed relationship. Hell, I still send that woman holiday cards.”

“Sophie, I’m not you and I don’t want to be you. I want to be Mrs. Bob Miller. That’s my life. Everything I have, everything I do…it’s all about being Mrs. Bob Miller. I’m good at it. My life with Bob…well, it’s what it’s supposed to be. He’s just forgotten that. He’s confused. But I’m going to make him see.”

“Leah, you can’t—”

“The hell I can’t!” I involuntarily stepped back. I had never seen her like this. She swallowed and looked away. “I found a receipt from Tiffany’s. He bought her a six thousand dollar bracelet. He bought it on the same day he bought me the diamond studs.”

“And what does that tell you, Leah?”

“It tells me that she’s using him. He bought the earrings for me because deep down he loves me, and he bought her a bracelet because he thought he had to in order to hold on to her.”

“Well that’s an interesting spin, if lacking in the logic department.”

But Leah wasn’t listening to me anymore. She brushed past me and stared at the chilled beers without reaching for one. “I am not going to take romantic advice from a divorced woman who talks to her cat.” I peeked guiltily at Mr. Katz, who was sleeping through the current fireworks. Leah snatched up the phone from the end table and started jabbing her fingers against the numbers.

“Leah, who are you calling?”

“Erika.”

“Bob’s secretary, Erika?”

“I spoke with her earlier. She’s as outraged as I am and offered to help me win him back.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Erika? Erika, are you there? It’s Leah. I’m coming over so if you get this message just…just wait for me. I need to come up with a plan before this goes too far.” Leah slammed the receiver onto the cradle.

“Leah this is crazy. You can’t put yourself through this. Plus you have Jack to consider—wait…where’s Jack?”

“He’s with my friend Miranda, and for your information I’m doing this for Jack.” She bent over to pick up her purse and made a beeline for the door.

“Oh come on, Leah, stay and talk to me about this. Erika’s not even home.”

“She will be soon and if not I’ll…I’ll just go home and do the laundry. Bob will need his golf clothes ready for the weekend.”

“Leah!”

“Goodbye, Sophie.” In an instant she was gone.

Well, that had been disorienting. It had looked like Leah, but I swear to God if I had closed my eyes I would have mistaken her for someone else. It wasn’t her words so much—although she had used more profanity than I was used to hearing from her—but her tone that had really thrown me. It had fluctuated from hollow to restless then back again. She seemed on the brink of losing her mind.

My eyes wandered to my unfinished beer on the counter. I picked up the bottle, then thought better of it and went to get the vodka from the kitchen. Leah would snap out of it. She just needed time. I poured the clear fluid over some ice cubes, then added a little cranberry juice for color. I should write something…like a book, or more specifically, the book my editor thought I had already started working on. In four months I would be touring to promote my latest finished Alicia Bright mystery, Words To Die By, and it would be helpful if I could complete the first draft of the next book in the series before hitting the road.

I silently welcomed the burning sensation the liquor provided as it worked its way down to my liver. The problem was I wasn’t quite ready to write another murder mystery yet. It had only been a few weeks ago that some lunatic had tried to break my head open with a golf club. Funny how being stalked by a homicidal maniac can knock the blood lust right out of you. Although I did want to kill my brother-in-law, Bob. That was promising progress.

I eyed my drink. It looked a little too red so I diluted it with more alcohol. If only Leah had gone running off to her friend Becca. Becca would have told her to kick Bob to the curb. But Becca was currently touring Europe with her boyfriend and it was doubtful Leah knew what country they were in, let alone what hotel.

I took another sip. I needed to relax. Erika may not give the best advice in the world, but evidently she and Leah had become close. She would undoubtedly offer Leah the emotional support she needed. This was good. Leah had Erika, and I had Absolut.

My pet strolled into the kitchen and blinked at me. “That’s what I like about you, Mr. Katz. You’re quiet, nonconfrontational, and it was legal for me to cut off your balls.”

It must have been a little after 10:00 p.m., because a Friends rerun was on. That meant I’d been unconscious for one…no, two and a half hours. The last thing I remember was watching a Will and Grace rerun. I had only consumed two cocktails (albeit, two very strong cocktails), but the combination of the alcohol and a good dose of emotional exhaustion had pretty much done me in for the evening.

It took a little effort but I managed to get off the couch. Unfortunately, the ringing of the phone interrupted my journey to the bedroom. I tapped the receiver with my index finger and considered my options. It rang again. Hell, it was worth picking it up just to keep it from making that shrill sound two more times. “Hello?”

“Sophie?”

I rolled my eyes skyward. “Leah, I’m tired, I’m grouchy, I’m intoxicated and I’m going to bed.”

“Sophie, please.”

There was something in Leah’s voice that stopped me. It wasn’t the desperation that had colored her tone earlier, but it was unnerving nonetheless. I sighed and leaned against the dining table. “Okay, what is it this time?”

“It’s Bob…I’m home…I’m here with Bob. Oh God, Sophie!”

I stood up a little straighter. “What? Did he hurt you?” My bloodlust was definitely back. I was going to kill him. Actually, I’d do better than that. In my next book I’d castrate a philandering husband named Bobby by rigging his inflatable sex doll with explosives.

“No, no, he didn’t hurt me. He can’t. Oh God, Sophie…Oh God, he’s dead! Bob is dead!”

My eyes traveled to the depleted bottle of vodka on the counter. “I’m sorry, Leah, but I think I must have misunderstood you—”

“He’s dead! D–E–A–D. BOB IS DEAD!”

“You mean like dead dead?”

“How many kinds of dead are there?”

“I’m not getting this.” I shook my head in an attempt to clear it. “Bob is only five years older than I am. Thirty-five is a little young for—”

“I think he was shot or something.”

“Shot or something?”

“I think so. I don’t know. He’s just lying there and there’s all this blood coming out of his head. Sophie, what do I do?”

Well, I wasn’t sure about her but what I wanted to do was throw up. “Leah, how exactly did Bob get ‘shot or something’? Who shot him?”

“How in God’s name would I know? I just came home and found him in the middle of the living room with a hole in his head! And our pictures, the framed wedding pictures that were in the room, they’re all smashed up. No one even bothered to clean up the glass! What if Jack had come home with me and cut himself?”

Excuse me? I lowered myself into a chair and tried to figure out if Leah’s instincts proved her to be Mother of the Year or just stark raving mad.

“Sophie, are you still there? What am I supposed to do?”

“I’m here.” Big sisters taught their younger siblings how to straighten their hair and apply their makeup. They did not instruct them on how to behave at a murder scene. “Leah, I honestly don’t know. What do the police say?”

“The police? I don’t know, they’re not here. Do you think they’re coming?”

“Didn’t they say they were coming?”

“No, no, I haven’t called them yet…. I called you. Oh, Sophie, he’s really dead! I mean really, really…”

I couldn’t hear Leah anymore, nor was I suffering the effects of the alcohol. All I could feel was the beginning of a panic attack. I took a deep breath and tried to make my voice slow, steady and clear. “Leah, I need you to hang up the phone right now and call the police.”

I could make out Leah’s quiet sobs on the other end of the line. “Leah, this is really important. I’m coming over but I need you to call them right now.”

She made some kind of weak affirmative noise. I hung up and for a few moments I couldn’t get myself to move. This was very bad. Hours after Bob had informed Leah that he was leaving her, he had transformed into a bloody corpse, and the phone records would show that the first number Leah dialed after discovering his body was not 911, but mine.

I looked down at Mr. Katz who had wrapped himself around my foot. “What now?”

My first stop was not Leah’s but Anatoly’s. I double parked in front of his building, ran up to the stoop and stood methodically tapping the buzzer until he relented and came down. He threw open the glass door and glared at me.

“Get your finger off the button, now.”

“Anatoly, I need help.”

“I’m not a psychiatrist.”

“Not that kind of help—” I took a moment to turn and acknowledge a driver yelling obscenities as he maneuvered around my illegally parked Audi “—although that should probably be my next stop. I’m here because Leah’s in trouble.”

“Leah’s made her choice, and you’re going to have to deal with that. Who knows—maybe she’ll get lucky and he’ll end the affair.”

“The affair’s pretty much a nonissue now, unless of course his mistress is into necrophilia.”

Anatoly’s lower jaw seemed to detach from his head. “She killed him? What the hell is wrong with you people? Doesn’t anyone in your family understand that vigilante justice is wrong?”

“She didn’t do it.” As soon as I said the words I realized my voice lacked the conviction to make them believable. I cleared my throat and forced myself to look Anatoly in the eye. “My sister did not shoot her husband. She loved him. Yes, they were having problems, but she was fully confident that they would work through them.”

Anatoly’s forehead creased and he leaned against the door frame. “What is this? Rehearsal for when you have to talk to the police?”

“Why? Didn’t I sound convincing?”

“That’s it. We’re done here. Goodbye, Sophie.”

I put my foot in the path of the door, inadvertently bringing myself closer to Anatoly. I could feel his breath in my hair and, despite his harsh words, I could see the twinkle of interest ignite in his eyes as he noted my new proximity. His mouth curved into a little half smile. I know that people often find themselves craving sex after a funeral but it probably isn’t healthy to be overcome with lust right after a family member has been shot. I distracted myself by looking at his feet. I’ve never been into feet no matter how big they are.

“Anatoly, I’m here to hire you. I was going to pay you six thousand dollars to find out if Bob was messing around. Now I’m offering you…ten. Ten grand to find out who messed with him.”

“It’s not about the money, Sophie.”

“What if I raise it to twelve? Then can it be about the money?”

He was silent for a bit and I kept my eyes glued to his boots. My friend Marcus always says that if a man’s shoes match his belt it means he’s gay. Anatoly must be the straightest man alive because his shoes never match anything. They are always ugly and—

“If you hire me I might uncover information that you don’t want to know.”

The statement was loaded with enough reality to quiet my raging hormones. I refocused on his face. “Then I’ll fire you.”

Anatoly snorted and looked out to the street. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”

“Great!” I pulled my keys out of my pocket and dangled them in front of him. “Get your coat and get in the car. I’ll fill you in on the details on the way.”

“I didn’t say I would take the case.”

“But you were about to. Come on, no more banter. The police are arriving at the scene as we speak.”

Anatoly shook his head in defeat. “I’m going upstairs to get some things. Wait for me in the car.” He retreated into the building and I ran to my car. I snapped on my seat belt and put my hand on the gearshift, ready to press it into first the minute his cute butt hit the seat. Anatoly was obviously less anxious. He strolled out wearing a generously cut leather coat and no other visible accessories. Maybe he had all his James Bond–like spy stuff hidden in his inside pockets.

Instead of taking his place in the passenger seat he came around to the driver’s side and opened my door. “Move over, I’m driving.”

“It’s my car.”

Anatoly bent down so that he was at eye level. “After your sister left your apartment, what did you do?”

“I watched some TV.”

“Right. Did you have any snacks while you were watching?”

“What would I snack on?”

“Vodka.”

“Vodka’s a good snack. Easy to prepare, light on calories…”

Anatoly smiled. “I’m driving.”

I gripped the wheel possessively. “Anatoly, you can’t possibly think I’m drunk.”

“No, I think your blood alcohol level is hovering around .08 but since we’re going to a place that we know will be crawling with cops it would be best if we don’t test fate.”

I grunted in disgust but relinquished my seat to him. “You think you know me so well.”

Anatoly positioned himself behind the wheel and adjusted the rearview mirror. “I guessed correctly, didn’t I?”

“Maybe. Or maybe you were playing PI in the apartment across the street, spying with a telescopic lens.”

“I don’t have to play PI, I am one.” He started the ignition and turned off the radio. “And I also have a life. Which way?”

“We’re going to Forest Hill. You know how to get to that neighborhood?”

Apparently he did, because he turned the car in the appropriate direction. I spent the first half of the drive giving him what little information I had. He listened, only interrupting occasionally to ask a question that I inevitably didn’t have an answer to. When I finished, the conversation lulled and I focused on the cars and street lamps we sped past. I hated to admit it to myself but I was pleased that he had insisted on driving. I consider myself to be a pretty independent person but in times of extreme crisis it was nice to have someone around who wanted to take control. That didn’t mean I was going to give him control, but I could take some comfort in knowing that it was an option.

As we got closer I broke the silence in order to direct him but I didn’t need to give him the exact address. Once we were within a block of the house all the flashing lights and uniformed officers served as a pretty clear indicator of where we were going. Anatoly parked several houses away and pulled the keys out without making any move to get out of the car. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask you again, Sophie. Are you sure you want me to investigate this?”

I should have been flattered by the note of concern in his voice, but its implication frightened me. I shook my head violently in an attempt to shake off the dark thoughts that were creeping in. “She’s innocent, and yes, I want you to investigate.”

We stared at each other for a beat. Finally, in what seemed to be slow motion, our hands simultaneously reached for our respective door handles and we got out and approached the crime scene.

CHAPTER 2

“Life is like a never ending play,” he said between drags on his cigarette. “We all have roles to perform and there’s always some critic insisting we’ve been miscast.”

—Words To Die By

We hadn’t gotten very far before we were headed off by a particularly butch policewoman who used her hand as a barrier. “Sorry, no one’s allowed beyond this point.”

“My sister’s in there,” I argued. “This is her house.”

The woman was completely unmoved. “You’ll see her later.”

“Well, if it isn’t Sophie Katz and her victim—er—friend, Anatoly Darinsky.”

I looked up to see the tall, lean form of Detective Lorenzo. His eyes narrowed as they met mine. He had let his black curls grow out since the last time I had seen him, which made him look younger, if not nicer. I felt the muscles in my neck tighten.

“You’re the detective handling this case?” I asked.

“One of them.”

“I think there’s a conflict of interest here. You hate me and you’ve been sent to investigate my brother-in-law’s murder. It doesn’t seem reasonable to expect you to remain objective.”

Anatoly put his hand on my shoulder in what must have appeared to others to be a supportive gesture. Only I knew that there would be permanent indentation marks where his fingers were digging into my flesh.

“What exactly do you want me to be objective about?” Lorenzo asked. “And how do you know your brother-in-law was murdered?”

Anatoly loosened his grip, but not enough to eliminate all the discomfort. I’m not sure what he thought he was accomplishing. Obviously what I needed was to be smacked upside the head.

I took a deep breath and soldiered forward. “Leah called me a little while ago, distraught. She told me she had…found him.”

“Do you know if this was before or after she called us?”

“I…don’t know. I didn’t think to ask. She loved him so much…. I’m really very worried about her—can I see her?”

“Just a few more questions.” Lorenzo pulled out a pocket notebook and pen. “Did she tell you how he was killed?”

“She wasn’t sure. She said there was a lot of blood and it seemed to be coming from his head.”

“She called and told you there was blood coming out of her husband’s head,” he said flatly.

“Mmm, I think that was it. It wasn’t all that clear…you know, with all the crying and all.”

“And the first thing you did was go out and hire a private detective? Any particular reason for that?”

Anatoly slid his hand down to my waist. “I was with Sophie when Leah called. We’ve become…close. I wanted to be here for her and her family.”

He pulled me tight against his side and I could feel his body heat radiating through his jacket. I reached my arm out to return his squeeze, somehow managing to “accidentally” brush it against his butt in the process.

“Right.” Lorenzo made another note.

I’m not very good at reading upside down but I think I could make out the word dysfunctional.

“When was the last time you saw Leah?”

“This afternoon,” I said. “She was on her way to see a friend…not sure who. Anyway, she stopped by to say hi.”

Lorenzo made another little note. “Did she say anything else?”

“It was just a basic conversation between sisters. She asked how I was, inquired about my next book, and then told me to stop talking to my cat and find a human companion to date and converse with.”

The detective glanced up at Anatoly. “She doesn’t consider Mr. Darinsky here to be human?”

“Well, Anatoly has a lot of apelike qualities, so it can be confusing.”

Anatoly removed his arm.

“How was her marriage?” Lorenzo said.

“Spectacular.”

“Spectacular?”

“Mmm-hmm. He brought home a paycheck and left her alone,” I explained. “A woman couldn’t ask for more.”

Anatoly made a noise of disapproval.

“That isn’t very liberated of you,” Lorenzo noted.

“Don’t get me wrong, she loved the time they did spend together, but Leah had a life of her own. She adored Bob because he gave her the space she needed to maintain her individuality while still supporting her. And he always made time to take her out on the occasional date or family outing with their son. I mean really, how much more liberated can you get?” It was also complete bullshit. I pretended to search my purse for a tissue so I wouldn’t have to make eye contact with either of my current male companions. Hopefully the picture I had painted of Leah would make her seem like the kind of gal who wouldn’t get all homicidal if she discovered her husband was messing around with some college-aged slut.

“Sophie!”

I looked up just in time to see Leah hurl herself in my direction. She flung her arms over my shoulders and tucked her tear-stained face into the crook of my neck. “Oh, how can this be happening to me?”

Lorenzo looked more irritated than sympathetic, but he did have the courtesy to put the notebook away. “It’s going to take a while for us to finish searching the house and dusting it for prints. Why don’t you come down to the station with us, Mrs. Miller? We can finish up the questions, and if your sister here would like to follow us she can give you a ride when we’re done.”

“Do you expect to be finished with the house by the time Leah’s through with questioning?” Anatoly asked.

“Not likely. I’m sure you understand the necessity of being thorough,” Lorenzo said, directing his comments to Leah.

Leah nodded numbly, and Anatoly took a step closer to her. “We’ll take Leah to the station.”

Lorenzo paused and studied Anatoly for a moment. “It might be more efficient if she rode with me or one of the other detectives. That way we could ask her some questions on the way over.”

“She’s been through enough without being forced to ride in a police car like some kind of criminal,” Anatoly said firmly.

My eyes traveled from Anatoly to Lorenzo. It was a nobrainer that Anatoly wanted to coach Leah on what to say before she answered any more questions, and it was equally obvious that Lorenzo would do whatever he could to prevent that from happening.

Lorenzo smiled and turned his attention back to Leah. “You know, Mr. Darinsky is right. You’ve been through enough. The last thing you need is to be dragged to some ugly police station. Why don’t we just sit in the car over there—” he instinctively held up his hand to block Anatoly’s predictable protest “—the unmarked car, in the front seat. I’ll have one of the guys bring us some coffee and we’ll finish the questions here.”

Anatoly’s jaw got a little tighter but he didn’t say anything. Leah looked to me questioningly for what I assumed was guidance. Ironic, since if she had ever taken my guidance before she never would have married Bob in the first place. But now I was all “guidanced out,” so of course I looked to Anatoly, who managed to loosen his jaw enough to speak.

“Go ahead, Leah, we’ll be waiting for you here.”

Leah allowed Lorenzo to steer her gently to the proper car. He stopped to talk to one of the uniformed officers, possibly to request the promised coffee, which was just stupid because the last thing Leah needed was to be more amped.

Anatoly stood silently with his arms crossed in front of him.

“Where’s the hidden camera?” I whispered.

Anatoly’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“You know, the spy stuff that detectives carry around with them when they go to crime scenes.”

Anatoly shook his head in disgust. “I was in the Russian Army, not the KGB. I don’t have any spy stuff.”

Well, that was disappointing. “Not even a mini tape recorder?”

“Not even that.”

“Then what the hell did you go back up to your apartment for?”

“A jacket.”

“You are so not worth twelve thousand dollars.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you had ever given me the opportunity to get you undressed.”

I opened my mouth to make a clever comeback, but then quickly closed it in order to keep the drool in. Not healthy. I really needed to try to be more somber. I thought about Bob’s early demise. Unfortunately that didn’t sufficiently lower my spirits. I turned my thoughts to Leah’s potential incarceration. That did it.

“Do you think she’s telling him—”

“Sophie, do us all a favor and shut up.”

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“When did you get the impression I was nice?”

“Good point. So this undressing thing…is that really part of services rendered? Because it’s a good marketing tool. ‘Hire Darinsky, he’ll catch your spouse with his pants down, and as a consolation he’ll lower yours, as well.’ Really, I think there could be a high demand for that. But since I’m hiring you for more solemn purposes, I think I’ll have to pass.”

“I didn’t actually offer.”

“The hell you didn’t.”

Anatoly smiled slightly. “I’d forgotten what you were like when you weren’t busy setting people up for murder.”

“Yep, this is me. Spunky and fun.”

“I was thinking argumentative and insane, but you should stick to the euphemisms that work best for you,” Anatoly said.

I gave him what I hoped came across as a disdainful glare. “I’m cold. I’m going back to the car.”

Anatoly hesitated, then carefully removed his jacket and held it out for me. I couldn’t help grinning while I slipped my arms into the sleeves. This is what I liked about Anatoly: he was full of contradictions. Though the jacket was about eight sizes too big, I managed to find a way to get my hands into the pockets. Anatoly reached out to stop me but it was too late—I had already felt it.

“What’s this?”

“Nothing, now just—”

“It’s a tape recorder! And it’s on, isn’t it.”

“Shh!”

“You do have spy stuff,” I hissed.

“Sophie, this is not the place. We’ll talk about it when we’re alone.”

“Oh, please, no one’s listening. You just don’t want to admit I was right.”

“You were right. Now shut up.”

I wasn’t quite as offended by the command now that I knew I was right. I simply spent the rest of the time smiling smugly at him while he ignored me. Finally, Leah emerged from the car and came over to us.

“Please get me out of here.”

My smugness was instantly squashed. Hopefully the fact that I kept forgetting about Leah’s plight was due to shock and denial and not extensive egocentrism. I ushered Leah to my car, where Anatoly once again assumed the role of driver. Leah refused my offer of the front passenger seat and tried to open the back door for herself. Unfortunately her hand was shaking so badly that she found even this task too difficult. I opened it and buckled her seat belt for her before crawling into the seat next to Anatoly.

The first five minutes of the drive were silent. It occurred to me that it would have been better if this had happened back when Leah was under the illusion that her marriage was successful. That way her final memories of Bob likely would have been positive. As it stood now, she had been robbed not only of her husband but also of the right to be angry with him. Unless of course it had been that anger that had led to his death. I shook my head vigorously and Anatoly gave me a questioning glance that I didn’t bother responding to. I wasn’t going to allow myself those thoughts. Leah was a lot of things—neurotic, insecure, judgmental—but she also had a good heart. She was simply not capable of murder.

“Jack! Oh my God, I forgot about Jack!”

I quickly turned toward Leah. “Forgot him? Forgot him where?” Images of Jack suffocating in the back seat of her Volvo flashed in front of my eyes.

“I dropped him off with Miranda for a playdate this afternoon. Oh Lord, what am I going to say to him?”

I doubted it was necessary to explain a father’s death to an eighteen-month-old child, particularly if the victim was a man that had a stronger relationship with his laptop than his son. “Why don’t you call Miranda and see if Jack can sleep over?”

“I couldn’t. It’s asking too much.”

“She’ll understand.”

“Sophie…”

“Phone.” I stuck my hand between the seats and Leah reluctantly pressed her cell phone into my palm. I looked up Miranda’s number in the memory and pressed Call.

“Allen residence.” The woman on the other end of the line spoke with a Mexican accent and sounded extremely harried.

“Hi, this is Sophie Katz, Jack’s aunt….”

“Oh, thank goodness! You’re coming to get Master Jack.”

Master Jack? Who instructed their ethnic nanny to call their charge’s playmates “Master”? “Well, actually I’m not. You know I think I should explain this to Mrs. Allen.”

“But you are picking him up?” The desperation in the woman’s voice was palpable.

“I really need to talk to Mrs. Allen.”

“Of course.” Was she crying? “I’ll get her.”

My heartbeat quickened as I waited for Miranda to pick up the line. What had Jack done now? Polluted the family’s drinking water with Epsom salts? What if they didn’t let him stay? I empathized with the nanny, but this felt like a her-or-me kind of situation, and I’d be damned if I was up for dealing with a Junior Moriarty.

“Hello? Sophie? It’s Miranda. Is Leah all right?”

“Hi, Miranda. Leah’s…” I looked behind me to see Leah methodically rotating her wedding band around her finger. “Leah’s had a rough night.”

“Yes, she told me about the affair….”

“It’s more than that,” I began. “There’s been a…an unexpected death in the family.”

“I am so sorry to hear that, Sophie. Was it your mother?”

“Mama? Oh, no! Nothing that bad, it was just Bob.” As soon as the words came out I realized how bad they sounded and how horrible I was for saying them. Fortunately my rabbi had informed me there wasn’t a hell to go to. I just had to learn to live with guilt.

“Bob? What happened to Bob?”

There was absolutely no delicate way of putting this. “He was shot.” I thought I saw the corners of Anatoly’s mouth twitch in amusement.

“I don’t understand.”

“I know it’s shocking. We have no idea who did it—a burglar maybe. Leah’s an absolute wreck. Would it be all right if Jack spent the night with you?”

“Of course, of course.” Miranda sounded a little dazed. “Consuello will make sure he’s comfortable.”

Sorry, Consuello, you lose. “Great, Leah will pick him up tomorrow, before nine.”

“No rush, you can pick him up as late as eleven-thirty if you like. Just…give Leah hugs and kisses from us.”

“Will do. I’ll have Leah call before she comes over.” I hung up just as Anatoly was pulling into a parking spot five blocks away from my home.

He tossed the keys onto my lap and made eye contact with Leah through the rearview mirror. “Leah, I’m going to have to ask you a few questions.”

“No more questions. I can’t take it.”

Anatoly sighed. We both got out of the car and Anatoly opened the door for Leah. “I know how hard it is to lose someone you care for,” he said, “but if you’re going to get through this, we’re going to have to put the pieces together so we can figure out what happened tonight.”

“The police are already doing that.”

“Yeah, but unlike the police, Anatoly works for us, not the state,” I said. “He’ll be more sensitive in his approach to this and he’ll conduct his investigation in a way that will best ensure your protection.”

“My protection? Do you think whoever did this is planning on shooting me?”

No, I thought that the police had plans to arrest her for being the “whoever” who did this. “I think you should answer Anatoly’s questions.”

Leah shifted her weight from foot to foot. She is an inch taller than me, but right then she seemed much smaller.

Anatoly put a gentle guiding hand on her shoulder. “Let’s walk.”

Leah nodded and fell into step with him as I trailed behind.

“When was the last time you saw Bob?”

God, Anatoly’s tone sounded so comforting that even I felt myself lulled into a sense of tranquility.

“This morning when he…told me.”

Anatoly nodded and slowed his pace. “Sophie tells me you went to see Bob’s secretary after you left her place a little after five.”

“Erika wasn’t home.”

Anatoly’s pace didn’t change but his shoulders seemed to get a little more rigid. “What did you do then?”

“I parked my car in front of her house and waited for about a half hour. Then I just drove. Erika lives in Daly City, so I got back on Highway 1 and drove down the coast for a while. Then I came back up to the city and drove around the Presidio. I just drove.”

“So you have no—you were alone.” His voice remained steady.

“Yes, that’s right. I needed some space so I could figure out how to get Bob back, and now—now he’s gone forever. I’m a widow.” She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at me. “I don’t know how to be a widow, Sophie.”

Leah didn’t look so steady on her feet, and I contemplated whether it was necessary to remind her to breathe.

“Let’s keep walking,” Anatoly said. We all resumed our journey to my apartment. “When you came home did you see anything unusual? Any people walking around nearby or cars pulling out of parking spots?”

“No, nothing unusual or out of place. I don’t think there were any pedestrians out, and the streets were quiet. I had no idea…I just had no idea.”

“Was the front door locked when you came in?”

“Yes, double locked. Bob is always so careful.”

I stopped myself from correcting her use of the present tense.

“Sophie said that when you got inside there were a few frames containing your wedding pictures that had been smashed on the floor.”

“In the living room, next to him. The rest of the house was in order, just as I had left it. But all three of the framed photos we display in the living room had been broken, and there was a broken highball glass.”

“A highball glass?”

“Shattered right next to Bob. And there was all this blood.” Leah blinked a few times. “Do you think it will always be there?”

Anatoly shook his head uncomprehendingly.

“The blood. Will it stain the floor? I have a book that tells you how to get the worst stains out…but there was so much.”

Leah was in shock. That was obvious. I wanted to reassure her that Pergo didn’t stain, but it didn’t seem appropriate at the moment. “The blood’s going to go away, Leah. It’s all going to get better. Why don’t we go upstairs and I’ll make you a little tea with brandy?”

“Yes, if all else fails, get her drunk,” Anatoly muttered.

I shot him a warning glance before escorting them up to my place. Leah took a seat on my couch without bothering to take off her jacket, and I went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Mr. Katz strolled into the living room undoubtedly hoping to cajole some food out of me, but once he saw both Leah and Anatoly he pulled a U-turn. He was too proud a cat to beg in front of company.

“After you found him you called Sophie. Did you call anyone else before you talked to the police?”

“Not before, no. After the police arrived and right before I came out and saw you I called Cheryl, Bob’s sister.”

Shit, I had forgotten about Cheryl. Usually that was a good thing, but in this case even Ms. Shallow deserved some consideration. “That couldn’t have been a fun phone call,” I said. “How did she take it?”

It was hard to tell from where I was standing, but I could have sworn that I saw a spark of annoyance in Leah’s eyes.

“She reacted like she always reacts—lots of dramatics and lamentations. You’d think that this whole thing was a personal assault against her, as if I weren’t suffering at all.”

I did a quick double take. That was a bit judgmental. Maybe Leah was returning to her old self again. “Well, he is her only living relative,” I pointed out.

“Please. She reacted the same way when Jason Priestley crashed at NASCAR.”

Yep, she was definitely coming around.

Anatoly seemed less impressed with her sarcasm. “Did the police find the murder weapon while you were there?”

“No, I showed them where Bob kept his gun, but it was missing.”

Great, just great. I could easily remember the debate Leah and Bob had over that stupid gun. She didn’t want to have one with a child around but he had insisted that it was a good security measure for the family. Apparently Bob was wrong.

Anatoly leaned against the counter that divided the living room and kitchen and shot me a look that said We’re in deep doo-doo. “Leah, I’m almost done. Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to kill Bob, or for that matter, anyone who held any kind of grudge against him at all?”

“No, everybody loved Bob.”

What drug was she on? Nobody loved Bob, not even her.

“He had lots of friends,” she continued. “The people who worked with him loved him. He was just offered a promotion. It was going to be announced in a few days. His employees couldn’t have been more loyal. Erika thought the sun rose and set around his head. No one wanted to hurt him—to my knowledge. Unless that slut he’s been sleeping with wanted to do him in. That’s always possible.”

I felt like screaming. The woman he had been sleeping with had no motive. Leah did. She had to see that. She had to realize how bad this all looked.

Anatoly cleared his throat. “Last two questions. Did you tell the police about Bob’s affair, or that he told you he was leaving you?”

“No, I…I couldn’t. The only people who know about that are the two of you, Erika and Miranda.”

I could tell by the look on his face that we were thinking the same thing. That was two too many.

“Leah, what’s Bob’s e-mail and password?”

I handed Leah a Post-it and she scribbled down Bob’s private e-mail address and handed it to Anatoly. “The password is June 21.” She hesitated a moment before adding in a much quieter voice, “That’s our anniversary.”

Anatoly waited a few seconds for her to reflect, but I sensed his chivalry was close to used up.

“Any other addresses? His work e-mail, for example?” he asked.

“It’s bmiller@chalet.com. I don’t know what password he used there. I tried accessing his messages when I suspected…” Leah got another faraway look in her eyes.

Anatoly motioned with his hand for her to continue. “I know what you suspected. So what passwords did you try?” he prompted.

“Well, I started with our anniversary, of course. We use that code for all of our accounts, our checking, our various online retailers….”

“What other passwords did you try?”

“My birthday, the date of our engagement, my name, and I tried one other before I gave up…what was it? Oh, of course, the day we first met. None of them worked.”

Anatoly jotted it all down. “Did you try narcissistic?” he whispered under his breath.

I shot him a dirty look, but Leah didn’t appear to have heard him.

“Last thing,” he said. “Are there any questions that the police asked you that I haven’t, or vice versa?”

“No, I’ve answered all these questions before,” Leah said. “I don’t think newly widowed women are supposed to answer all these questions right away. I think they’re supposed to be too distraught to talk. Maybe I’m being callous.”

Maybe she was being crazy.

Anatoly studied her. I got the feeling he was trying to pull information out of her—that she didn’t want to voice. Finally, he shrugged and joined me in the kitchen.

“Come to help me with the tea?”

Anatoly didn’t even bother acknowledging the question. “Meet me at Leah’s at ten-thirty tomorrow morning.”

“Is that a request or an order?”

“Ten-thirty, Sophie. And if you hear anything from the police, call me.” Anatoly left as the kettle began to whistle.

Leah entered the room and crossed to the stove to turn it off. “Skip the tea. Just give me the brandy.”

The next morning I awoke to the sound of grinding coffee beans, which would normally fill me with the kind of inner peace others only experience after visiting the Dalai Lama. However there was an odd pattern to the noise this morning. Normally when you grind coffee you press the top of the coffee grinder for a minute or so until the beans are as fine as grains of black sand. However the person preparing these beans was pressing the grinder for five seconds at a time, and, taking two-minute breaks in between to utter phrases like “Oh, my head!”

I pulled on a robe and went out to the kitchen to see Leah braced against the sink, the grinder currently silent beside her.

Her angry, bloodshot eyes zoomed in on me. “Look at me! Look what you’ve done to me!”

I didn’t immediately answer. I understood that she was hungover but I missed the part that made it my fault.

“Why did you let me drink all that brandy?” She ran her fingers through her hair, inadvertently molding it into a wing formation. “How am I going to reevaluate my life if I feel like my head is going to explode?”

I pulled out a filter and began to prepare the coffeemaker for the beans that I was clearly going to have to grind myself. “Maybe you shouldn’t reevaluate your life just yet.”

“Of course, I have to reevaluate! Weren’t you listening to me last night? I’m not the wife of a comptroller anymore. I’m the widow of a comptroller. That’s an entirely different situation. I have to figure out—OH MY GOD!”

I almost dropped the coffeepot. “What? What is it?”

“This nightgown I’m wearing! You lent me a pink nightgown!”

I blinked. “I thought you liked pink.”

“I’m in mourning! I’m supposed to be wearing black.”

“To the funeral maybe…”

“No, no, no, no.” Leah shook her head hard enough to cause her hair wings to make a flapping motion, then abruptly stopped as she struggled to regain her equilibrium. “There is a period of time in which widows are supposed to wear black, I’m sure of it.”

“Leah, this isn’t Gone with the Wind. No one is going to blackball you for wearing a pink nightgown.”

She started pacing the narrow kitchen. “There’s a way to do this…I know, a book! There’s got to be a book that explains the proper protocol for a newly widowed woman.”

“Like what? Mourning for Idiots? Why don’t you pick up Emily Post’s book on how to be a socially gracious murder suspect while you’re at it, because that seems to be the more pressing problem.”

Leah stopped pacing. “Murder suspect? I didn’t kill Bob.”

“I didn’t say you did, but I’m sure you’ve heard the saying ‘perception is the greater part of reality.’ And I’m pretty sure I know what the police department’s perception is right now.”

Leah looked bewildered, although how this could have been news to her was beyond me.

“But once the police start investigating, they’ll see it wasn’t me. There’s no evidence that could say otherwise because I really am innocent.”

“Wake up, Leah. Innocent people go to jail all the time on bogus charges. It was barely a month ago that Anatoly was charged with assault and murder.”

“But that’s because you set him up, Sophie. You invited him up to your place, kicked a few chairs over or something and then called 911.”

“Okay, forget about that. How many times in the past couple of years have forensic scientists used old DNA evidence to prove that some of the people who have served time for various crimes were actually innocent? While researching Words To Die By, I found out that Ray Krone was in prison for ten years before DNA evidence proved him innocent. What about the cases when DNA evidence isn’t available? Do you think the courts get all those right? You need to look at this realistically and prepare to fight the accusations that are going to come your way.”

In one fluid movement Leah picked up an empty coffee mug and threw it across the room. It exploded against my cabinet door in a burst of ceramic. “I didn’t do it!”

I stood motionless, looking at the remnants of the cup. I had a long history of throwing things, but that’s because I have no self-control. Leah, on the other hand, had always managed to be on the verge of a breakdown without ever actually having one—until now.

Her action must have surprised her, as well, because she had become completely still. Then she slumped against the counter. “I know it looks bad, but I honestly never wished him dead. I wanted the chance to make it work. Why wasn’t I given that, Sophie? Why would anyone do this?” She slid down to the floor, buried her face in her hands and cried.

I reluctantly crept forward and sat down beside her, careful not to get shards of ceramic stuck in my butt. I understood where Leah was coming from. I’m not sure she valued Bob the individual all that much, but she did value their union and the life they had made together. Her choices were not ones that I would ever have made for myself, though they apparently worked for her. But Bob’s extramarital affair had not been one of her choices, nor had his murder. At least I hoped it hadn’t been. Now, after spending years perfecting her role as Mrs. Bob Miller, she was forced to redefine herself, and she had no clue how to do it.

I put my arm around her shoulders. “I’ll ask Mary Ann about the black,” I said, referring to my friend who worked at Neiman Marcus. “She’ll know what you should wear.”

Leah choked back a sob.

“Do you want to cover the mirrors?” I asked.

Leah lifted her tear-stained face. “Cover the mirrors? Bob would have hated that. He wasn’t even Jewish.”

“Look, God’s got Bob covered, so now we’ve got to do what’s necessary to get you through this. The rabbis wrote out some pretty clear instructions on what we Jews are supposed to do when we lose a family member, and you need guidance, soooo…”

Leah nodded and chewed on her lip. “I guess it’s not such a bad idea, but do you think…perhaps just for this morning…?”

“You want to wait until you’ve finished with your makeup and hair.”

“Am I completely shallow and horrible?”

“Maybe, but if so, it’s hereditary, because there’s no way that I’m going to go through the day without my undereye concealer.”

Leah rested her head against my shoulder, which required some contortionist moves on her part, but the gesture was irresistibly sweet. “If you ever try to remind me that I said this I’ll deny it, but honestly—I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’re never going to have to find out,” I said, then reached forward and patted her knee. “And you can count on me reminding you.”

If anybody else had lost her husband I would have had the courtesy to let them shower before me. But it was an undisputed fact that Leah’s particular bathing rituals were the primary reason for California’s water shortage, so I made it a point to sneak in first. When I had finished making myself beautiful, I searched the apartment for something appropriate to cover the mirrors with. It took about five minutes for me to figure out that I had nothing. My downstairs neighbor Nancy sewed. She’d probably have some spare fabric. But there were so many things I’d rather do than ask her for a favor—like go snorkeling in a tanker full of plutonium.

I heard Leah turn off the shower. She’d be done in forty-five minutes max. I had promised her I’d cover the mirrors and I didn’t want to renege on that, especially since it was the only thing that seemed to perk her up. I opened one of my dresser drawers for the eighth time and glared at its contents. Of course there was nothing of use in there. Gym clothes, bathing suits and…

My hand reached in and pulled out the first of my many sarongs that I had collected over time to use as bathing suit covers and skirts during the years that it was fashionable. I shook it out and held it up to the full-length mirror fastened to the closet door. It was the right length. I had seven sarongs and five mirrors. Perfect. I hurried around the apartment hanging up my exotic mourning sheaths. By the time Leah was done I was waiting outside the bathroom holding the sarong I intended to hang in there. Leah opened the door and looked at it questioningly.

“Are you going on a cruise?”

“These are for the mirrors. I didn’t have any black cloth.”

“Are you kidding? It’s going to look like we’re holding a luau.”

“A very somber luau.”

Leah shook her head. “Sophie.”

“I put the black one with the purple and turquoise fish in the living room.”

“I gave that to you when you got accepted into USF! I can’t believe you still have it!”

“I take it with me on every beach vacation.”

“Well, I guess it’s okay. After all, you’re putting the red one in the bathroom and the one I gave you is predominantly black….”

“And if you’ll recall, the fish on it are wearing very serious expressions.”

“Bob loved fish.” And that was it—Leah was in tears again.

I hugged her and tried to conjure up some fond memories of Bob ordering halibut. I wanted to feel more sad about this, if for no other reason than to prove to myself that I wasn’t a sociopath, but my main emotion at the moment was relief. If Leah could just have another breakdown over Bob’s eating habits in front of the police, that might sway their opinions in the right direction. Leah wiped her tears and tried to smooth a crease in a skirt that I had lent her. I slipped past her and covered the last mirror. I heard Leah gasp in what I took to be horror as I pushed in the last thumbtack. “Oh, come on, Leah, it’s a mellow red.”

“It’s not the sarong—I just remembered what I forgot.”

“Which is?”

“Mama.”

“Shit!” I locked eyes with Leah. If Mama came for a visit and discovered a tube of Monistat 7 in the bathroom drawer you could count on her demanding to know why the offending offspring hadn’t called her the minute she felt an itch. Forgetting to call to let her know her son-in-law was murdered was not going to go over well. I glanced at my watch. “She must not have watched the morning news or she would have called by now—”

The phone rang. Leah looked like she had just swallowed her tongue and I felt the threat of a migraine.

“It could be a reporter looking for a quote,” I said.

“Do you have caller ID?”

“No, but I’m going to get it any day now.”

“How helpful.”

Leah and I walked over to the phone and stared at it as it rang for the fourth time. I decided to live dangerously and pick it up right before the answering machine did it for me. “Hel—”

“What kind of child doesn’t call her mother when her sister’s schlemiel husband has come to a schwartzen sof?”

The more excited Mama got, the more Yiddish she used. I wasn’t exactly fluent in the language but I knew that to come to a schwartzen sof was to come to a bad end and that schlemiel was a polite way of calling Bob a prick. I cleared my throat.

“Mama, it really wasn’t my place to call you—Leah should have done that.” I winced as soon as I said it. It was an unfortunate force of habit to transfer my mother’s wrath onto my younger sister. I mouthed the word sorry to Leah. She in turn gave me what I had come to know as the “I’m going to get you for that” look.

“So where’s your sister and the lobbus? Are they all right?”

“Leah and Jack are fine. Jack slept over at a friend’s house and Leah’s…” Leah began to shake her head furiously at me. “Leah’s here, but she’s asleep.”

“At ten in the morning she sleeps?”

“Well, she didn’t sleep much last night. As you pointed out, her husband was killed.”

“So who shot him? Was he some kind of criminal? If I find out that he got my Leah mixed up in any kind of monkey business I’ll…I’ll give him the Einhoreh, that’s what I’ll do.”

“What good—or bad—is the evil eye going to do now that he’s already dead?” I heard Leah choke back another sob and I mentally slapped myself.

Mama muttered some more Yiddish before coming back to English. “Enough with the sleeping—put Leah on the phone.”

It was tempting to think that Mama was just being insensitive to my sister’s need for rest, but it was more likely that she knew I was lying, which was impressive because I’m a pretty good liar.

I took a moment to weigh my loyalty to my sister against my desperate desire to get off the phone. Fortunately, I didn’t have to make the choice because Leah, in what I assume was an unexpected attack of altruism, took the phone from me.

“I’m here, Mama. Yes, I’m okay…Jack’s okay…No, I haven’t eaten anything today…”

I left the room to allow Leah some privacy and to avoid being stuck with the phone again.

CHAPTER 3

Alicia let out an exasperated sigh. “Dead people are always so much more likable than the rest of us.”

—Words To Die By

Leah and I were only fifteen minutes late in meeting Anatoly at her house. This was a new record for Leah, but for some reason Anatoly didn’t look like he was in the mood for handing out gold stars.

“Can we go in now?” he asked.

“Hello?” I suggested. “When you greet someone you’re supposed to say hello. Otherwise people accuse you of having Asperger’s.”

Leah looked around the front yard and then stared at the still closed front door. “Where’s the police tape?”

“What’s the point of having police tape if there are no police here to enforce the restriction?” Anatoly asked. “Unless the goal is to entice troublemaking teenagers to mess with the crime scene.”

Leah threw him a confused look. “But in the movies…”

“Hollywood has a very different approach to crime fighting than the police.” Anatoly looked at his watch impatiently. “The police may or may not come back to look for more clues, but they have to accept the fact that by that time things will have been altered.”

“Okay, so let’s go in and alter them.” I looked expectantly at Leah, who was examining the doorknob as if it were attached to the gates of hell.

Anatoly cleared his throat. “Leah, if you want to wait out here I’ll understand. Just give me the keys and I’ll come get you if I have any questions.”

Leah shook her head. “I’ve got to go in eventually.” She pulled out her keys at a speed that underscored the meaning of the word eventually, and after several deep breaths (each one resulting in the further extension of Anatoly’s chin) she opened the door. She stood in the entryway for a full two minutes before Anatoly and I gently pushed past her.

Our first stop was the living room. Things looked eerily normal. If there had been broken picture frames on the floor, they were gone now, with the exception of a few neglected slivers of glass. Anatoly sighed and looked around the room.

“I’m sure they confiscated everything that could possibly qualify as evidence. I doubt we’ll find much.”

“You mean they took my wedding pictures?”

We turned to see Leah standing behind us.

“Can they really do that without asking me?” she asked.

“As long as they have a warrant,” I said. I walked over to the middle of the room and tapped my foot against the bloodstained floor. If I didn’t know better I would have assumed it was spilled burgundy.

Anatoly was now walking slowly around the room, taking it all in. “Show me where the gun was kept.”

Leah led him to the safe, which was tucked into the cabinet below her showcase of Waterford collectibles. It was such a stupid place to put a safe. Like a burglar wasn’t going to search the furniture piece holding thousands of dollars’ worth of crystal. Leah twisted the combination lock a few times until it released. Inside were some insurance papers, a will, a rather extravagant-looking diamond necklace and a few bond certificates that added up to an amount that was considerably less impressive than the value of the necklace. No gun.

Anatoly examined the insurance records. “No life insurance?”

“Bob thought accidental death and disability insurance was enough. After all, both of us were in perfectly good health.”

“So Bob decided to wait until his health failed before approaching the insurance companies for life insurance?” I asked. “Or is it possible he just couldn’t be bothered spending money on a policy that he would never be able to benefit from personally?”

Leah winced and I immediately felt guilty. I was going to have to work on holding back my reflexive insulting observations about her husband now that his previously vacant head contained a bullet.

Anatoly coughed a few times in an obvious attempt to suppress a laugh. “Let’s be grateful he didn’t have an insurance policy—one less reason for the police to suspect you.” He stuffed the papers back in the safe. “Did you have a lot in savings?”

“Just over a hundred thousand,” Leah said softly. “It’s not enough. Our house payments alone are ten thousand dollars a month.”

Anatoly did a quick double take.

“Well, we put down a small down payment!” Leah said defensively. “It’s important to have a nice house to bring business associates to. Besides, Bob was making over four hundred thousand dollars a year and he was getting a promotion, so we knew we’d be fine…or at least we thought we would.” Leah’s eyes misted over. “Oh God, I’m going to have to go back to work, aren’t I.”

“There are worse fates,” I said. “So, other than the savings account, your house and your cars, are there any other assets worth mentioning?”

Leah’s face brightened. “There are the Chalet stocks! Of course, I can’t cash them out yet, since they just went public and the shares are in lockdown….”

“Lockup,” Anatoly corrected. “When a company goes public the employees’ shares go into lockup for the first six months or so.”

Leah dismissed Anatoly’s comment with an impatient wave of her hand. “Lockdown, lockup, who cares what it’s called? The important thing is that Jack and I aren’t going to lose our house and I won’t have to work!”

I creased my forehead. “How much are Bob’s shares worth?”

“I don’t know the exact figure, but it’s well over a million.”

I bit my lip and Anatoly let out a heavy sigh. “So much for eliminating money as a motive.”

Leah took a step back from Anatoly and glared at him. “You aren’t seriously suggesting that I would kill my husband for monetary gain?”

“You wouldn’t be the first woman to do so,” Anatoly said.

“Excuse me, but just because I’m unfamiliar with the terminology of the stock market doesn’t mean I’m completely clueless about money. This is a community property state so if I had wanted to get my hands on Bob’s money, any divorce attorney worth his salt could have done that for me.”

“I know you wouldn’t kill for money or any other reason.” I inched closer to Leah and rested my hand on her shoulder. “But the police might think that you weren’t really up for the whole half-sies thing.”

“This is perfect,” Leah said. “If Bob had been bankrupt, Jack and I would be homeless and hungry, but since he wasn’t, I’m a murder suspect. No matter what the situation is I lose.”

“Just because you’re a suspect doesn’t mean you’re going to be charged with anything,” Anatoly pointed out. “Let’s figure out who else could have done this. Did anyone other than you and Bob know the combination to the safe?”

“No one. Just Bob and I. It was our anniversary.”

“Your anniversary,” Anatoly repeated. “The same combination you used for your personal Internet access, your ATM and your online retail accounts.”

“You can see why neither chose careers that required a lot of creative thinking.” Oh damn it, I’d done it again. I was really going to have to make more of an effort on this delicacy thing.

Anatoly did some more coughing before pulling out the necklace. He held up the pendant so that the light caught the yellow stone and the white diamonds that surrounded it. “Is this one of those yellow diamonds?”

Leah took the necklace from his hands. “Don’t be ridiculous. Colored diamonds are trendy and ugly. Diamonds should be clear like these little ones. The stone in the middle is a yellow sapphire.”

“I see. How much is that yellow sapphire worth?”

“I had the necklace insured for fifty-four thousand dollars.”

“Are you kidding?” I squeaked. “My God, what happened to the days when a man could clear his guilty conscience for under a grand?”

“Clearly Bob had more guilt than the average philandering husband,” Leah said, and shook her head in disgust. “I should have known right away. Bob was never excessively affectionate. We’re both too sophisticated to be taken in by all the hearts and flowers nonsense.”

I sank my teeth into my tongue to refrain from blurting out that she had been renting Sleepless in Seattle on a biweekly basis for the past decade and a half.

“…but it wasn’t until last year that he really became distant. He’d stay out late, make excuses for missing dinner, but he’d always make it up to me by buying me something. As the excuses became more frequent, the gifts became more elaborate.” She held up the necklace to eye level. “I don’t want it. I would never be able to wear it without remembering that he gave it to me just months before declaring that he was planning on trading me in for a younger model. I made such a fuss over his generosity, too. I made him gourmet dinners for a week straight. I’m so incredibly pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic. Remember, Bob never actually left you. I’m sure that given the chance he would have come to his senses and stayed,” I lied.

Anatoly stepped back from the safe and scanned the room. “Where do you keep the computer?”

“In the study upstairs,” Leah said absently, still admiring the necklace she supposedly didn’t want.

I tugged at Anatoly’s sleeve. “I’ll show you.” We left Leah downstairs and I took him to the room that stood between Jack’s and the master suite. I stepped in and did a quick visual inventory. “Wait, I know they keep it in here. Where is it?”

Anatoly walked past me and tapped a spot on the empty desk. “My guess is it was right here.”

I stepped forward and examined the dust-free square on the desk where the computer used to be. “The police?”

“Looks that way.” Anatoly shook his head. “Hopefully there aren’t any messages on it from the mistress. It would be better if Leah could volunteer the information about that affair herself.”

“You want Leah to tell the police about Bob’s bimbo?”

“Assuming she didn’t do it, yes, I want her to tell them about Bob’s bimbo. They’re going to find out anyway, and while I recognize that in her case lying is a family trait, lying to homicide detectives will not serve her well.”

I shrugged. “There was a period of time in recent history when I was lying to the police all the time. I never got arrested.”

“No, I did. Let’s not repeat the pattern, all right?”

Leah entered the room and stared at the empty spot where the computer had been. “Hold on a minute. Last night the police escorted me through the house so that I could confirm that nothing was missing and I distinctly remember the computer being right there.” She looked at me and Anatoly accusingly.

“Okay, you caught us. We used Anatoly’s super-micro-blastic shrinking machine and hid it in the drawer.”

“The police took the computer.” Anatoly was now looking through the papers on Bob’s desk with noticeable lack of interest.

“I can’t believe those people. First my wedding pictures and now this? It’s just so rude! You have no idea what it was like to see the photos of Bob and me on the happiest day of our lives covered in broken glass. And now, not only am I unable to reframe them, I can’t even complain about it to my online stay-at-home-moms’ support group! Honestly, is it really necessary to rob me of all my comforts?”

“Not all your comforts,” I offered. “I’m sure they left the ice cream.”

“This is so typical of you, Sophie! My life gets turned upside down and you’re making jokes.”

Anatoly looked up from the papers. “Funny, I thought it was Bob’s life that got screwed up.”

“Shut up!” The words came from both me and Leah in unison.

She smiled at me and I exhaled a sigh of relief. At least we still recognized that we were not each other’s enemy. The real enemy was the heterosexual male.

Leah checked her watch. “Damn it, I was supposed to pick up Jack five minutes ago.”

“Are you bringing him to Mama’s after that?” She had already told me that she was but I just wanted to be reassured one more time that she wasn’t bringing him to my house.

“Mmm-hmm. She’s taking him for the afternoon.”

“How about the night? Can she take him for the night, too?” Anatoly gave me a sidelong glance, which I ignored.

Leah pushed her purse strap farther up her shoulder. “Jack and I will be staying with you tonight.”

“I really think you should ask Mama to take him. You have enough on your plate as it is.”

“I’m the only parent he has now, and he needs me.”

“You’re right,” I said slowly. “Jack needs stability. Maybe the two of you should stay here tonight. That way he’ll be able to sleep in his own room.”

Leah shot me a “you can’t possibly expect me to stay here” look and then turned around to leave before I had a chance to send her a nonverbal message of my own.

Anatoly smirked. “I’m getting the sense that you have some strong feelings concerning your nephew.”

“You don’t know what this child is like. Rosemary’s baby would be easier to deal with.”

He chuckled and opened the top drawer of the desk. “I’m going to take an hour or so going through this place—there’s always the off chance the police left something behind.”

I pulled off my leather jacket. “I’ll help. I think I’ll start in the kitchen.”

Anatoly nodded, although I don’t think he was listening. I went downstairs and left him to his exploring.

Forty-five minutes later, I had discovered a frozen Wolfgang Puck pizza, two Trader Joe’s salads, an open bottle of Kenwood, Pinot Noir, and an entire box of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts. I flipped on the small television discreetly mounted on the wall in the corner of the dining room and turned the volume on low before getting to work on the pizza preparation. Ten minutes later the scent of freshly baked mozzarella brought Anatoly downstairs.

I gestured for him to sit at the dining table as I poured the wine. “Do you think the police found anything interesting last night?”

Anatoly glanced at the figure of Montel Williams scurrying around the TV screen, and pulled out a chair for himself. “It’s impossible to know.”

“So what’s our next move?”

“My next move will be to talk to the woman Bob was sleeping with.”

“Why would we want to do that?” I set the pizza out along with the two salads, then sat opposite him. “She has no motive—she won. Not that Bob was any great prize. Maybe that’s it! Maybe she started thinking about what life would be like with Bob and freaked out.”

“We don’t know the details of the affair.” He looked at the glass of wine offered him, then glanced at the wall clock, which read 11:55.

“My brother-in-law died yesterday,” I said. “I think it would be justifiable if we started drinking early. So what were you saying about the affair?”

Anatoly sighed and reached for the prepackaged shrimp Caesar. “I was saying that it’s unlikely Bob told Leah the whole story. Maybe his mistress had reason to want him dead, or maybe someone connected with her did.”

“A husband! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’re not a PI.” He tore off a piece of pizza. “You’re a writer…of sorts.”

“One would think that with everything we’ve been through together you would know better than to piss me off.”

“Good point.” Anatoly leaned back in his chair. “All right, who might know the name of Bob’s mistress?”

“Maybe Erika, Bob’s secretary,” I mumbled between bites.

“I’ll need you to make an introduction.”

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll help you with the interview.”

Anatoly frowned and shook his head. “I mean it, Sophie, you need to leave this to me.”

“Uh-uh. Erika knows me, so she’s a lot more likely to open up if I’m there. Plus, I’m good at this detective stuff. I figured out who killed Tolsky, didn’t I?”

“How could I forget?” Anatoly taunted. “You’re the genius who put the whole thing together just minutes after the killer confessed. Very impressive.”

I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t care what anyone said, writing the Alicia Bright mysteries did qualify me to be an amateur sleuth. In Words To Die By Alicia solved four murders in less than a month’s time. Surely, with Anatoly’s assistance, I could solve one murder in less than a week. “The point is, I figured it out before you. No, scratch that—the point is, I’m the one footing the bill for this little investigation, so if I say I’m sitting in on an interview, then—”

Anatoly leaned forward and grabbed my wrist. God, I had forgotten just how strong his hands were.

“This is not a game. A man was killed and the murderer may be willing to kill again in order to avoid getting caught.”

I dropped the utensil I had been holding in my free hand. “You’re worried about me!”

Anatoly uttered some Russian curse and attacked his salad with his fork.

“You looove me.” When Anatoly didn’t respond I decided to take it down a notch. “Okay, maybe you’re not ready for the big L word, but you’ve got to admit you like me an awful lot.”

“Careful, Sophie. I like Caesar salad and look what I’m doing to it,” he said as he violently sank his fork into a piece of shrimp.

“Are you suggesting that you want to eat me?”

“Sophie…”

“Good afternoon.”

Anatoly and I looked up at the television to see the anchor woman who had begun speaking.

“Thanks for joining us for Channel Two News at Noon. Today’s lead story is a murder that took place last night in the Forest Hill district of San Francisco.” Anatoly quickly stood up and adjusted the volume. “Bob Miller, the comptroller at Chalet.com, was found last night with a gunshot wound to the head. His wife, Leah Miller, made the call to the police. This morning we had a chance to speak to Bob’s sister, Cheryl Miller. This is what she had to say.”

The camera switched to a shot of Cheryl standing in front of her place of work, Hotel Gatsby. Her overly gelled dyed-blond hair was impervious to the wind that was plaguing her interviewer. “I’m still reeling from the whole thing,” she said, gently patting the corner of her eyes with a pink handkerchief. “Although, I suppose I should have seen this coming. Leah and Bob were having problems, and Leah was never the most stable of people.”

“That bitch!” I screamed, standing up quickly enough to upset my chair.

“Shh!” Anatoly scolded, and turned the volume up a bit more.

“I know the police are looking at her,” Cheryl continued. “Of course, she’s denying it. I swear, it’s just like OJ and Nicole all over again.”

“How so?” the interviewer asked.

“Well, Bob and I came from a very well-respected New England family, and Leah’s…well, she’s black. And now she’s going to try to act like the police are targeting her because of her race, which isn’t the case at all. But if she’s brought to trial, who knows what she’ll be able to convince a jury of.” Cheryl dabbed her eyes again. “Not that Leah has the money to hire the Dream Team, but she does come from some wealth. Her mother’s side of the family is Jewish.”

I wasn’t so much upset as I was floored. Anatoly and I looked at each other.

“Huh,” he said, “I completely forgot that your sister is black.”

“I’m not sure she is anymore,” I replied. “Is it possible for a person to shop in Wilkes Bashford’s women’s department while still maintaining an ethnic identity?”

Anatoly shook his head and cast one last glance at the television. “This is going to get messy.”

Twenty-five minutes later I was clinging to Anatoly as he pulled his Harley into a parking spot right in front of Bob’s office building, located in the heart of the financial district. I doubt I’ll ever get over the thrill of having my breasts pressed up against his well-developed back muscles while riding on the back of that bike. There’s something intrinsically sexy about a non–Hells Angels type riding a Harley. It was like Anatoly was wearing a sign that said, “I’m sexy, I’m fun and I’m secure enough with my masculinity to willingly put a large vibrating phallic symbol between my legs and enjoy it.”

We walked inside and took an elevator to the eleventh floor, which was the second of the three floors that housed Chalet. I had only been there once before with Leah. Back then Bob had shared a moderate-size office with a colleague whom he had neglected to introduce me to. Since then Bob had moved up in the world. He held bragging rights to a corner office the size of my living room. Leah had told me the CFO had recently turned in her notice and Bob was to fill the vacant role. Of course, at the time she hadn’t known that Bob had no intention of sharing his success with her…

Now the door to the office was wide open, and sitting at his desk was a petite Chinese woman. Her permed black hair hung delicately around her shoulders as she sobbed into her hands. Even without being able to see her face I recognized her as Erika. The tall man with the salt-and-pepper hair patting her shoulder was Chalet’s CEO, James Sawyer, whom I had met at the occasional dinner party. As Anatoly and I stepped inside, James’s hazel eyes met mine.

“Sophie.” He stepped around the desk and clasped my right hand in both of his. Erika looked up and used the back of her hand to try to wipe away the tears that dampened her face.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Bob,” James continued.

His tone was so sincere and concerned that I genuinely wished I was more upset. “I want you to know that we at Chalet have always considered the family of our employees to be part of our own extended family—no matter what their nationality, race, creed or religion.”

Anatoly cleared his throat and I pressed my lips together. “I see you’ve been watching the news,” I said.

“I…might have caught it while purchasing a coffee across the street.” James adjusted his tie as if that was the reason he had suddenly gone red. He looked past me to Anatoly. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Anatoly Darinsky. I’m a close friend of Sophie’s.”

Close—I liked that.

“I see,” he said. “Well, I assume you’re here for some of Bob’s things?”

“Actually, we were hoping to talk to Erika for a few minutes.” I tilted my head to the side so that I could see past James to Bob’s grieving secretary. “Bob always spoke so highly of you, and Leah feels that your help with the arrangements would be invaluable.”

“Of course, I’ll help with the…arrangements. Oh, poor Bob!” She lunged for the tissues at the corner of the desk.

James regarded Erika with a mixture of sympathy and disdain. “Erika, you can go through the paperwork tomorrow,” he said as he helped her to her feet and led us out of Bob’s office and to her desk. “Waiting another day won’t kill—won’t be of any significance. Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off?”

As Erika squeaked in agreement, James checked his watch. “I don’t mean to appear insensitive, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to head out. I’m scheduled to speak to a youth group in Hunter’s Point in forty-five minutes.” He looked up at Anatoly and me and smiled proudly. “Chalet has built a reputation on reaching out to San Francisco’s diverse community.”

“Uh-huh.” I eyed the navy-blue pinstripe suit once more and tried to imagine how that look played with today’s troubled urban youth.

“Bob always said he wanted to get more involved in Chalet’s community projects.” Erika made a loud honking noise as she paused to blow her nose. “Now he’ll never have the chance.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. Expecting Bob to do voluntary community service was kind of like waiting for the Pope to go devil worshiping.

James’s eyes were now darting between the sniffling Erika and his ticking watch. “Yes, it’s all very unfair. Sophie, please express my sympathy to your family.” He nodded at me and Anatoly, and gave Erika’s shoulder one last awkward pat before quickly removing himself from the room.

“I’m sorry.” Erika sat up a little straighter and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I know that I was just his secretary, but he was so incredibly sweet to me. He and Leah both were, and—” she anxiously tugged on her tennis bracelet “—I just can’t believe he’s gone!”

Anatoly had reopened the door to the office and was taking a visual inventory. “Have the police been here yet?” he asked.

“Yes, they came earlier. They took the computer. Other than that I think they left everything intact.”

Anatoly closed the door again. “So as far as you know, they didn’t find anything.”

Erika hesitated. “Did you really come to get my help with the funeral arrangements, or did Leah send you to gather information about…that woman?” By the way she said “that woman” I was unsure if she was referring to Bob’s mistress or a female Al Qaeda terrorist.

Anatoly shook his head. “We didn’t come to find out about Bob’s mistress, but if you know who she is, I’m sure Leah would be interested.”

Erika leaned forward conspiratorially lest we be overheard by the ants currently scoping out her water bottle. “Her name’s Bianca Whitman. Yesterday, before…before—”

“What happened yesterday afternoon?” I asked, quickly cutting her off before she had a chance to indulge in another shower of tears.

“It was the morning, actually. Leah called me. Bob had just broken the news to her and she was so distraught.” Erika looked down at her desk as if she could see the previous day’s events replaying on its surface. “It was such a shock…the very idea of Bob betraying the woman he loved—” she faltered and squeezed her eyes closed against the tears “—it was just so out of character.”

“And Bob was such a character.” Anatoly elbowed me and I forced myself to look more bereaved. “What I meant to say was that he had so much character—he was just full of it.”

Erika shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “Yes, well anyway, Leah asked me to look around the office for any information on this woman. So I…I went through his things while he was at lunch.” She looked up at us pleadingly. “I know I shouldn’t have. I just wanted to help Leah. She’s become such a good friend. And Bob…you have to understand, Bob wasn’t a bad person. He was just…”

“An adulterer,” I finished. I was pretty sure he was a bad person, too, but I decided to let that one drop.

“Did you find anything in your search?” Anatoly asked.

Erika nodded. She unzipped her large purse and began unloading its contents onto her desk. Anatoly’s forehead creased as she pulled out a miniature package of Kleenex, a bottle of prescription pills, a lipstick, a wine cork, a small package labeled insulin, her wallet and finally a small, light pink envelope. I had forgotten about all of Erika’s health problems. She had both severe diabetes and a heart murmur. Yet it was her hearty golf-playing boss who had checked out at the ripe old age of thirty-five. It was irony like that that made a person want to take up smoking.

Erika picked up the envelope with her thumb and forefinger. “This should give Leah most of the information she wants.”

“Which is?” Anatoly asked, taking the letter.

“Her name and address. There’s no phone number and she’s unlisted—I checked.”

Anatoly scanned the letter while I helped Erika reload her purse. “What time did Bob leave work yesterday?”

“Five o’clock, as always,” Erika said.

Anatoly nodded and stuffed the letter back into the envelope. “Did you tell the police about Bianca?”

“No,” Erika paused a moment to blow her nose again. “I didn’t want to tarnish Bob’s memory. Besides, there’s Leah to consider. I know she’s suffering horribly right now and if she did something in the heat of passion that perhaps she shouldn’t have…I just don’t want to be the one to make things worse for her.”

My hand clenched the Chateau d’Yquem wine cork that I had been about to drop in her bag. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “You’re not actually giving credence to baseless allegations made by some cross-burning bitch on Channel 2 today.”

“I’m sorry?” Erika blinked at me. “What are you talking about? You’re not saying that Bob’s mistress was a Klan member, are you? Bob would never get involved with a person like that! She must have lied to him about who she was or…or brainwashed him!” Erika dropped her head to her arms again and started weeping.

Anatoly grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the exit. “Thanks for your help. Leah will contact you to discuss the memorial service,” he called over his shoulder before shoving me into the elevator.

“Sophie, I doubt a lot of people saw that report,” he said when the doors closed. “I know this may be hard for you to understand, but some people might think Leah’s guilty just because she had means, opportunity and motive.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell it to Dershowitz.” I jammed my finger against the button labeled L. “Let me see the letter.”

Anatoly handed it over to me and I quickly unfolded it.

Dear Bobby,

I know I shouldn’t be writing this, but you’re all I can think about these days. Every time I drive by a restaurant in which we dined, or pass a park bench on which we sat, or walk down a street on which you held my hand, I think of you.

Oh, yuck.

I hope that by putting the feelings that are in my heart on paper I will be better able to sort through them and maybe even figure out the right thing to do.

I know you think I shouldn’t, but I keep thinking of your wife and child. I know that she’s been disloyal and that she’s hurt you, but two wrongs have never made a right. Thus, it is my moral obligation to end things between us.

But I can’t do it, Bobby. Whenever I force myself to entertain the idea of life without you, a little part of me dies. I can still remember the way your shirt felt against my cheek as we danced at the Starlight Room. That night you told me we were soul mates. When I recall those words I know that I will never be able to walk away from you. Does that make me a horrible person? How can an immoral relationship feel so right?

So, despite the guilt, I am yours. I have no right to ask you to choose between me and your family, but I hope that you will have pity on me and make your decision. If you choose your family I will be heartbroken but I will understand; it’s the right choice to make. I just don’t have the strength to make it.

Love Always,

B

“Oh, this chick is a piece of work!”

Anatoly stifled a laugh as the doors opened to the ground floor. “Maybe she’s being sincere,” he suggested as he escorted me to the sidewalk.

“Nah. All that ‘I’ll be heartbroken but I’ll understand’ stuff is total passive-aggressive BS. She actually had the nerve to try to guilt him into leaving his wife and child!”

“Mmm, maybe—”

We stopped in front of his bike and he handed me the spare helmet.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” he added.

“You think?”

“I know. We’re going to pay her a visit right now.”

CHAPTER 4

“But she can’t be a slut,” Sara said with a confused shake of her head. “She buys her bras at Mervyn’s.”

—Words To Die By

As it turned out, Bianca lived in an eight-story building at the top of Nob Hill. Anatoly found her name next to a buzzer for the seventh-floor flat. “A twenty-one-year-old with a condo kitty-corner to Grace Cathedral.” Anatoly made an appreciative clucking sound with his tongue. “Pretty impressive prize for a man you described as the world’s biggest schmuck.”

“She probably has buck teeth and a lazy eye.”

Anatoly shrugged and pressed the buzzer. A few seconds later a feminine voice come through the speaker. “Yes?”

Anatoly held up his hand to stop me from saying anything. “Hello, Miss Whitman? My name is Anatoly Darinsky. I’m a private investigator. I was hired by Bob Miller’s family to investigate his death.”

There was a moment’s pause and then we heard a loud buzz as the door before us unlocked. Anatoly held it open for me and we waited at the elevator.

“At what point do I get to rip her hair out?” I whispered.

“No hair ripping. We’re going to make her feel as comfortable as possible.”

“You think she’s going to be comfortable talking to the sister of her lover’s wife?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Give me a break.”

“You’re not Leah’s sister,” he said as we stepped onto the elevator.

“I’m not?”

“Not for this interview. You’re my assistant and you will behave as such.”

I tapped my finger against my lips thoughtfully. “I like that. You know, I bet that a few weeks of working with you would be enough to drive me to the edge of insanity. I might just have a breakdown and start tearing out the hair of some adulterous slut for no reason.”

“Sophie…”

“Relax,” I said. “I’m just kidding…sort of.”

The elevator doors opened to the seventh floor, and standing in a small foyer was a pretty petite blonde wearing khakis and a white button-up blouse. A pink cardigan was draped over her shoulders.

Anatoly extended his hand to her. “Miss Whitman? Thank you for seeing me. This is—”

Bianca’s hand flew to her mouth. “You’re Sophie Katz, Leah’s sister!”

Well, so much for that plan. Anatoly looked away to better hide the pained expression on his face.

“You know me?” My hand instinctively clenched into a fist.

“Yes, of course! I’ve read every one of your books! I…oh, you must hate me. I don’t blame you. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” She bit her lip and looked down at her kitten-heeled sling-backs. “I keep thinking that this is some kind of nightmare—that none of this could possibly be true.”

“No, it’s true,” I said flatly. “Someone shot the bastard.”

Anatoly looked up at the ceiling and mumbled something in Russian, and Bianca’s eyes welled up with tears. “God help me, this is all my fault!”

Now, that was interesting. Anatoly and I exchanged quick looks. He put a comforting hand on her arm.

“Why don’t we step inside and talk.”

Bianca nodded weakly and turned to lead us into her home. The place was tastefully appointed in a very Laura Ashley way. She waved a hand at a floral couch and Anatoly and I took our seats. Bianca went to her purse, pulled out a lace handkerchief and gently dabbed her eyes. First Cheryl and now Bianca—at what point did hankies come back in vogue?

“Can I get you two anything? Coffee, tea? I think I have some ice tea left over from yesterday.”

“We’re fine,” Anatoly said. “I know you’re going through a lot right now.”

“Yeah, so is my sister,” I muttered under my breath.

Anatoly discreetly gave my arm a painful pinch and a little whimper escaped Bianca’s heart-shaped mouth as she sat down on the love seat opposite us. She lowered her head and looked up at me with misty blue eyes.

“As I said, I don’t blame you for hating me. I know what I did was awful. If I could take it all back—” Her voice caught and she looked away. “If I could just go back in time and make things right…”

“What did you mean when you said all this is your fault?” Anatoly asked.

“I started the chain of events that led to Bob’s death.” Bianca laced her fingers together and scrunched the hankie between her hands. “I knew getting involved with him was a mistake. Even if Leah was cheating on him…”

“Hello?” I jumped to my feet. “My sister never cheated on anyone in her life. It was the scum she was married to who had a hard time keeping it in his pants!”

Bianca looked startled for a moment, then compassionate. “I shouldn’t be surprised that she didn’t tell you. It’s hardly the kind of thing one brags about. But she did cheat on him. It was her indiscretion that first brought Bob and me together. Both of us discovered that we had been betrayed by the people we loved and we sought solace in each other.”

I shook my head and opened my mouth to defend Leah against Bob’s lies, but Anatoly grabbed my hand and yanked me back down onto the couch. He cleared his throat and looked at Bianca. “Please continue. You were explaining how you started a chain of events.”

“Yes.” Bianca looked at me pityingly. “It started as just a friendship. I was at the bar at Boulevard waiting for a friend and he was there waiting for his associates to show up for a business dinner. He inadvertently overheard me while I was talking to my sister on my cell. I was telling her about what happened with Kevin—Kevin was my fiancé. He…he left me for someone else. When I hung up, Bob introduced himself. He told me he knew what I was going through because he was going through something similar—that was right after he had walked in on Leah in the arms of her personal trainer…”

“Are you kidding? My sister would rather die than get involved with anyone who worked at a gym.”

“Sophie, shut up,” Anatoly said calmly. He smiled again at Bianca and gestured for her to continue.

Bianca looked nervously between the two of us. “Well, we became friends, and the more time we spent together the more we discovered we had in common.” She fingered a delicate gold crucifix that hung around her neck. “When Bob first told me he was leaving Leah…”

Anatoly scooted forward on the couch. “When exactly was that?”

“Well, this was the first time he planned on leaving, so that was about nine months ago.”

My eyes widened. “Bob had this planned for that long?”

“Perhaps planned isn’t the right word. He had been thinking about filing for divorce long before he met me, but it wasn’t until he found evidence that Leah was continuing to be unfaithful that he decided to go through with it. Once his mind was made up he immediately made his intentions clear to Leah. That’s when we…became more than friends.”

Anatoly’s eyes darted in my direction, presumably to assure himself that I wasn’t going to interrupt Bianca with another tirade. Frankly, I was too stunned to speak. I never would have thought Bob clever enough to pull off this level of deceit. I knew damn well that the only thing Bob had made clear to Leah nine months ago was his refusal to help with potty training.

“As you know, Bob and Leah worked things out,” Bianca continued, “if only for the sake of their son. It was awful for Bob, and Leah’s insistence that they sleep in separate bedrooms didn’t help matters. Nonetheless, he was willing to stick it out so that Jack would be raised in a two-parent home. But what we had…it was so powerful, I just don’t think either of us knew how to resist it.” Bianca hesitated and looked at me. “I’m so sorry. I know how this must sound to you.”

“I really don’t think you do,” I mumbled, thinking about the bedroom Leah had shared with her husband for the duration of their marriage.

“Well, we just couldn’t take it anymore. We loved each other so much and we had to be together. Bob told me he was going to be leaving Leah and this time nothing was going to change his mind. And I…I know this is so awful, but I was overjoyed. I was so sure that we would have this perfect future, but I didn’t think of Leah, now did I.”

“I would say the answer to that is a big no,” I agreed.

Bianca nodded and looked at her petal-pink nails. “Bob had told me how delicate her mental state was. He warned me she wouldn’t take it well—and who would? Who could possibly be gracious in the face of losing Bob?”

She had a point. If Bob had left me I would have been too busy celebrating to be gracious.

“I just didn’t anticipate that our betrayal would push her over the edge,” Bianca continued. “And now look what I’ve done! Leah may have been the one to pull the trigger but I’m the one who set this whole thing in motion.” Bianca’s lower lip began to tremble. “It’s all my fault that the love of my life is dead!”

The really frightening thing about this monologue was that she actually seemed to be buying into her own bullshit. I tried to see her the way Bob must have: a soft-spoken, white, Christian, polished, naive girl with a pedigree and a knack for codependency. In other words, she was everything Leah was not.

Anatoly studied Bianca for a moment before speaking. “There’s evidence that indicates Leah is not the one responsible for Bob’s death.”

He told the lie so effortlessly that I almost believed it myself.

“There is?” Bianca’s tears momentarily stopped. “But she’s the only one that had any kind of motive. Bob was so gentle and thoughtful—no one other than Leah would ever hurt a hair on his head.”

“I would,” I whispered. But if Anatoly or Bianca heard, they chose to ignore me.

“What about your ex-fiancé, Kevin?” Anatoly asked. “Is there any chance he wanted to reconcile with you? Perhaps Bob was in his way.”

Bianca tucked her hair behind her ears and shook her head sadly. “Kevin proposed to his new girlfriend three months ago and the two of them moved to Boston. He could care less who I’m with. The only man who really cared about me was…was…”

“My sister’s husband,” I finished for her.

Bianca shot me a pleading look. “I want you to know that I don’t intend to contact the police. If they come to me I guess I’ll have to answer their questions, but I don’t want to make any more trouble for Leah. I know I’m as much to blame as she is, and I…I don’t want to take both of Jack’s parents away from him. I don’t want that at all.” She averted her eyes and her shoulders began to tremble. “All I really want is for Bob to be alive again.”

Anatoly sighed and drummed his fingers against the armrest impatiently. “Bianca, do you know for sure that Bob informed Leah he was leaving her this last time?”

Bianca nodded without making eye contact. “He came over here right after he broke the news to her. It was the last time…we were together.” She swallowed hard. “I can’t understand how he could be gone when just yesterday he was making love to me.”

I tried to swallow my disgust, but it was impossible.

“Did he say anything about the rest of his plans for that day?” Anatoly asked.

“He said he was going to work and then he was going to go home and pack. He was planning on moving in with me that night, but said he might not get here until late. I waited and waited, and when he wasn’t here by eleven, I turned on the news and—” She stopped herself and stared fixedly at the hardwood floor.

Anatoly cleared his throat. “Did Bob ever talk about anyone he disliked or who he felt disliked him?”

“Other than Leah?”

“Yes,” Anatoly and I said in unison.

“No, everyone loved Bob.”

Those were the same words Leah had used. I had a quick flashback of a Saturday Night Live skit in which the audience of a Broadway play came out of the theater and one after another recited in a monotone voice, “It was better than Cats, I’d see it again and again.” Maybe Erika was on to something with the brainwashing thing. Worse, maybe Bob had turned all the women he had contact with into San Francisco’s version of a Stepford wife. But that didn’t work because San Francisco’s version of a Stepford wife would probably be a drag queen.

“All right, I think I have all I need for right now.” Anatoly stood up, and Bianca followed suit. “May I contact you again if I have further questions?” he asked.

Bianca nodded. She looked at me and pulled nervously at the sweater draped over her shoulders. “Please tell Leah that I’m sorry.”

“I can’t imagine that your apology would mean anything to my sister.”

Anatoly took hold of my wrist. “We’re leaving now.” He pulled me toward the door, but I resisted.

“One more thing,” I said. “May I see the bracelet?”

Anatoly shot me a questioning look. I had forgotten to tell him about the Tiffany’s receipt Leah had found.

Bianca flushed. “You know about that?”

I fixed her with a cool stare. Bianca bit her lip.

“I’ll go get it,” she whispered, and retreated into the next room.

“What bracelet?” Anatoly hissed.

“Yesterday Leah told me she found a receipt for a six-thousand-dollar bracelet.”

“And I’m just hearing about this now?”

“It’s not like it’s important. The only reason I brought it up is that I want to see what it looks like.”

“Really,” he said dryly. “This isn’t about trying to make Bianca feel guilty about the gift?”

I shrugged. “It’s an added perk.”

Bianca reappeared with a wide gold bracelet that was covered in small, sparkling yellow stones. She cupped her hand and held it out for my inspection. I poked it gingerly with my finger. “Wow, Liz Taylor’s got nothing on you. Are these diamonds?”

“Yellow sapphires.”

“Huh, those suckers must have been on special or something.”

“He gave it to me to celebrate the one-year anniversary of the day we met.” Bianca’s voice took on a dreamy tone. “He got the date wrong by six and a half weeks but I never corrected him. It was just such a romantic gesture.”

Extravagant seemed like a better word for it. Still, Bob clearly had better taste than I had given him credit for. I pulled my hand away from the bracelet. “It’s amazing how profitable immorality can be, isn’t it?”

Bianca’s lower lip started doing its trembling thing and Anatoly grabbed my arm again. “We’re really going now,” he said, more to me than to her.

Bianca trailed behind us and watched glumly as we stepped onto the elevator.

“I can’t believe I allowed you to come on these interviews,” Anatoly muttered after the doors had closed.

“I’m sorry, but she messed up my sister’s life and I don’t really give a shit how sorry she is about it. She’s probably the one who killed Bob. I mean, if she loved him so much, why is she extending her apologies to the woman she believes to be his murderer?”

“That was a bit strange.” Anatoly stepped out of the elevator on the first floor and escorted me to the sidewalk. “Do you think there’s any truth to Bianca’s assertion that Bob tried to leave Leah nine months ago?”

“No way. Leah would have told me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Leah doesn’t suffer quietly. Ever.”

Anatoly sighed and looked back at Bianca’s building.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I’m thinking that if the police end up talking to Bianca they’re going to think that she…”

“Has an unhealthy lack of cynicism?” I offered.

Anatoly laughed softly. “She is incredibly naive, but what I was going to say was that she comes across as being credible.” He looked at me and the gravity in his expression chilled me. “They’re going to think she is a lot more credible than your sister.”

I didn’t say anything, and Anatoly was wise enough not to push the issue. We mounted his Harley and rode to my apartment in silence. When he stopped the bike in front of my doorstep I muttered a goodbye and walked swiftly to the door.

“Sophie?”

I turned to see that Anatoly had gotten off his bike and was standing with his helmet in his hands. “I know this is hard, but for a moment I want you to pretend that you don’t love Leah. I want you to think about the things she’s done in the past and the things she hasn’t, and then I want you to tell me if you believe she could be capable of murder.”

I swallowed and turned away.

“Sophie, even if the answer is yes, I’ll still help you protect her.”

“Why?” I shook my head in bewilderment. “It’s not like you owe me anything. If anything, it’s the other way around.”

“Because,” Anatoly said softly, “I have a brother.”

This was news to me. Fifty million questions flooded my mind. Did he live nearby? Was he still in Russia? Or had they immigrated together to Israel but not to America? But it didn’t seem like the right time to ask.

“So about Leah…” Anatoly prodded.

“Right—Leah.” I thought about the woman who was my sister. I replayed the conversation we had had the afternoon before Bob’s death and then I thought about Brad Thompson. Brad was from Leah’s pre-Bob days and he had been the “love of her life.” She had assured me, our mother and everyone else who would listen that he was going to propose. And then it happened—the breakup. He told her that she was fun to mess around with but not nearly good enough to marry. I sat by her side as she cried into her pillow and listed off all the things she wanted to do to him, his car and his reputation. But when I had suggested that we get some of my male friends to start a fight with him at a bar and rough him up, Leah had been horrified.

“She didn’t do it,” I said slowly.

“Are you sure?”

I smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll admit that I had some fleeting doubts, but I know my sister. She didn’t do it.”

“All right, then. I’m going to do a background check on Bianca. Maybe she’s not as credible as she seems.”

As I watched Anatoly put his helmet on and drive away, I was overcome with relief. Fear had clouded my judgment, but now I was thinking clearly and I knew Leah was innocent. All I had to do was prove it.

I let myself in and was just opening the apartment door when my phone started ringing. I looked down at Mr. Katz, who was watching me expectantly. “I’ll feed you right after I get this,” I assured him before grabbing the phone. “Y’ello?”

“It’s me.”

There was no mistaking the husky voice of my closest and most abrasive friend. “Hey, Dena, what’s up?”

“What’s up? How about the murder of your brother-in-law?”

“Oh, yeah, that.” I went to the kitchen and poured Mr. Katz some kibble then took the phone back into the bedroom with me.

“Jesus, just when I thought things were getting back to normal.”

“Tell me about it.” I sat on the edge of my bed and pulled my boots off and threw them in the general direction of my closet. “At least Leah’s okay.”

“Is she? Did she ever find out if he was screwing around on her?”

When I didn’t answer, Dena groaned. “Shit, do the police know about the affair?”

“Nope.” Mr. Katz wandered into my room and glared at me. Undoubtedly he had seen the bottom of his food bowl.

“Thank God for small favors. Look, I’m with Mary Ann, can we stop by?”

“Sure, I’m not doing anything.”

“Perfect, we’re in the car and about a block from your place, so with any luck we’ll be able to find a parking spot within the next fifteen minutes.”

It would be so nice if Dena was being sarcastic, but fifteen minutes to find parking in my neighborhood was a pretty realistic estimate—assuming she didn’t mind parking four or more city blocks away.

By the time Dena and Mary Ann arrived I had brewed a pot of coffee and was midway through my second cup.

The minute she walked in the door Mary Ann pulled me into a hug. “Sophie, I’m so sorry your family has to go through this.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled into her chestnut-brown curls. I pulled back slowly, careful not to spill the coffee I still held on to her white three-quarter-length sleeve wrap top. It was slightly cropped and exposed a little over an inch of perfectly flat abs.

Dena’s hug was briefer and a little less emotionally charged, but then again, Dena wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely type. She walked over to the covered mirror and knitted her thick Sicilian eyebrows. “What’s up with the new wall hangings?”

I grinned and stepped into the kitchen to pour them both a cup of caffeine. “It’s Jewish tradition to cover the mirrors after a family member dies.”

“With sarongs decorated with rainbow-colored salmon?” Dena asked. “Oh, wait, I get it! Lox! The salmon are there to remind us that some things are more enjoyable dead.”

“Dena, that is not funny!” Mary Ann said. But even she couldn’t keep a straight face as Dena and I collapsed into giggles.

“My God, we’re horrible human beings.” I handed a cup of black coffee to Dena and a cup half filled with cream and a few tablespoons’ worth of sugar to Mary Ann.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Dena sat down on my couch and propped her feet up on my coffee table so that the thick heels of her boots stuck out like phallic symbols. “Seriously, though, how could anyone find Bob interesting enough to kill? There’s no way that little bean counter could inspire that kind of passion.”

“Mmm, I don’t know about that.” I sat down opposite her on my love seat and Mary Ann quickly took her place by my side. “When Leah told me he was leaving her and Jack for his mistress, who just happens to be twenty-one years old, I entertained some pretty violent thoughts.”

“Yeah, but you’re always entertaining violent thoughts. You write murder mysteries, for Christ sake.”

“That’s not fair,” Mary Ann said. “You don’t have to be a violent person to write about murder. I work at the Lancôme counter and I don’t think about makeup all the time. I’m not even wearing any now.”

I looked at her flawless porcelain complexion and tried to suppress my jealously.

“And I doubt Marcus thinks about hair all the time,” Mary Ann continued, “and you work…” Her voice trailed off.

Dena was the sole proprietor of Guilty Pleasures, an establishment she affectionately referred to as an erotic boutique, and if there was ever a woman who brought her work home with her, it was Dena.

Dena smiled at her cousin mischievously and Mary Ann rolled her eyes. “Not everyone’s you.”

Dena shrugged and ran her fingers through her cropped hair. “Do the police suspect Leah?”

I nodded. “But she didn’t do it.”

“Of course, she didn’t.” Mary Ann used her hand to make little soothing circles on my back. “Anyone who’s ever met Leah would know she’s not capable of hurting anyone. The poor thing must be devastated by all this.”

“She’s not at her best,” I admitted.

“Is there anything I can do?” Mary Ann asked.

“No—wait, that’s not true.” I shifted my position so I was facing her. “Leah wants to make sure her mourning attire is appropriate in a W magazine kind of way.”

Mary Ann nodded encouragingly. “There are a few recently widowed women who I work on at Neiman. Of course I only do their makeup, but I always take note of what they’re wearing.”

“Jesus, is fashion really Leah’s biggest concern?” Dena asked. “What about her kid?”

“Trust me, Jack is always a concern.” I took a long sip of my drink. “In fact, she and Jack will be staying with me for the next few days.”

Mary Ann gasped and Dena’s tan complexion got almost as white as her cousin’s.

I ran a jagged fingernail around the rim of my mug. “It’s not as bad as all that. I can deal with Jack.”

“Of course you can,” Mary Ann said. “You do still have rental insurance, right?”

“And smoke detectors,” Dena chimed in. “You’re going to need lots of smoke detectors.”

“He’s eighteen months old. He’s not going to be setting fire to the apartment.” I glanced nervously at the smoke detector in the living room. When was the last time I checked the battery on that thing?

I heard the sound of a key jiggling in the lock and then Leah burst in with Jack in her arms. Despite my concerns I felt a little tug at my heart. Cuddled up against his mother Jack looked like a little cherub. If he didn’t have the temperament of a Tasmanian devil he’d be irresistible.

“Have you listened to the radio?” she asked, skipping the formality of a greeting.

“Not today but—”

“There was this woman on the air and she was talking about me!” Jack squirmed in her arms and she placed him on the ground. “She was talking about how my new status as a suspect is a perfect example of how underprivileged women of color still have to struggle to be seen as contributing citizens rather than potential criminals. Underprivileged, Sophie! I have never been less than upper middle class in my life, and this woman has me sounding like some kind of black, blue-collar soccer mom!”

Dena put her cola can on the coffee table. “I don’t think she was trying to make you look like a soccer mom…welfare mom, maybe.”

“This is all Cheryl’s fault!”

“Ah.” I brought my fingers to my temples. “So you know about her comments to Channel Two.”

“Yes, I know! And the sad part is I don’t even think she’s a racist. She just knew this was her one and only chance at grabbing her fifteen minutes of fame. After all, it’s not like she could ever make it as an actress. The senior citizen who fell and couldn’t get back up was a better thespian than she is. Cheryl’s only talent is making other people’s lives miserable. That and her obnoxious ability to quote from Entertainment Weekly.”

Mary Ann blinked. “I’ve never met Cheryl. Is she into celebrities?”

“Oh, she’s way beyond that,” Leah said. “They need to make up a new word for what Cheryl is.”

“That’s the understatement of the century. I don’t think there’s an E! Television show that she hasn’t seen or an Us magazine she hasn’t read five times over,” Leah explained.

“That’s why she got a job at Hotel Gatsby. She read some article about how Gatsby hotels are always filled with young A-list celebrities, so when they opened one in San Francisco she rushed over and strong-armed some unwitting HR girl into letting her work the front desk.”

Dena rolled her head toward her right shoulder in an effort to stretch her neck. “I thought Cheryl worked at the Ritz.”

“She did, but that didn’t stop her from accepting a few graveyard shifts at Gatsby,” Leah said. “Never mind the fact that the Ritz has a policy against working at another hotel while working for them. The management at the Ritz just found out last week and terminated her employment.” Leah allowed herself a brief moment of smug satisfaction before continuing her tirade. “I suppose she’ll go to full-time at the Gatsby now. But it gives you an idea of what kind of woman she is. I mean really, what kind of person is that disrespectful of the Ritz-Carlton?”

Jack toddled over to Mary Ann and she bent over to kiss him on the forehead, then quickly withdrew her head as she caught a whiff of his current odor. “Oh,” she said in a nasal voice that implied that she was holding her breath. “Does he have a poopy diaper?”

“Of course he has a poopy diaper. Do you think my son smells like this all the time?”

Leah strode forward and reached for Jack, but Mary Ann picked him up before she had a chance. “You seem a little stressed,” Mary Ann said, blatantly understating the situation. “Why don’t you sit down and relax and I’ll change Jack.”

“You’d do that?” Leah’s expression softened.

“Of course. You’ve been through so much. This is the least I can do.”

“Thank you.” Leah’s mouth relaxed into a genuine smile. “I’m sorry I snapped, but I’m just at the end of my rope.”

“Any of us would be,” Mary Ann said reassuringly.

Jack pointed to Mr. Katz, who was busy grooming himself. “Kitty lick.”

“Yes, that’s what cats do when they’re dirty,” Mary Ann explained as she carried him down the hall. “I guess you both need a little cleaning.”

Leah waited until Mary Ann had disappeared into the bathroom before turning her attention to Dena. “I haven’t seen you for a while,” she said coolly. “Sophie tells me you’re dating a vampire.”

“He’s not a vampire,” Dena said with a yawn. “He just wants to become one. Anyway, I broke up with him last week.”

“What?” I scooted forward. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s no biggie. He was getting a little too…” Dena waved her hand in the air as if trying to physically grab the word that was eluding her.

“Intense?” I volunteered.

“Insane?” Leah pitched in.

“Conventional,” Dena finished. “When I first met him he was so dark and mysterious, but then he got a job at the Gap and it was bye-bye gothic, hello ‘Songs by Your Favorite Artists.’”

Leah shook her head. “Do you ever get tired of being a freak?”

“I beg your pardon.” Dena raised herself to her full five feet two inches of height. “And the term is super freak.” She turned to me. “I’ve got to check in with the shop.”

“I left the phone on my bedside table.”

Dena nodded and disappeared down the hall.

“So,” I said, turning back to Leah, “you’re having a bad day.”

“A bad day?” Leah collapsed onto a chair by the dining table. “My husband was shot yesterday!”

“Yes, I know.” And it couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.

“You know, the cruelest thing I ever did to Bob was serve him a cold dinner. And now Cheryl’s accusing me of shooting him?”

“Like you said, she’s just trying to grab her fifteen minutes.” I could hear Jack screaming in the guest room. I eyed Leah to see if she was going to help Mary Ann out, but she stayed glued to her seat.

“I guarantee you Bob never told Cheryl about our marriage problems.” Leah’s eyes narrowed as she looked out into space. “The two of them were hardly on speaking terms! And now she runs out and gets herself a pink hankie and starts comparing me to OJ? Is she joking?”

“Let’s focus on what we can control,” I said. Jack was still screaming in the background and now I could hear Mary Ann’s pleas for cooperation. Clearly Jack wasn’t one of our controllables. “I found some stuff out today that you should know.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, for one thing I…well, I spoke to Bob’s mistress.”

Leah flinched but didn’t say anything.

“She says that Bob almost left you nine months ago. She implied that you and Bob actually talked about it.”

“She’s lying.”

“So he never said anything at all?”

“You would take the word of a whore over mine?”

I sighed and started massaging my temples in earnest. “You know, it would be so much simpler if she were a whore, but after meeting her I don’t think that title really fits.”

“Really? How would you describe the woman who was sleeping with my husband?”

“I’d describe her as a wide-eyed innocent who bought Bob’s BS hook, line and sinker.”

Leah pressed her lips together.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you that she was some kind of siren whose unearthly song led Bob to the rocks. Although, I’m not a hundred-percent sure she isn’t the one who killed him, if that makes you feel any better.”

Leah shrugged peevishly. “A little.”

I smiled, glad to be able to deliver at least some good news. A fresh-smelling Jack toddled into the living room followed by a somewhat haggard-looking Mary Ann. Leave it to my nephew to break someone’s spirit with one diaper change.

Leah smiled at Mary Ann and pulled out a chair for her, which Mary Ann immediately dropped into. “Thank you so much for doing that.”

“It was no problem,” Mary Ann lied. Mr. Katz stretched his legs and wandered out of the room. Jack went after him, keeping a cautious distance. Leah started to get up to follow him but Mary Ann’s words stopped her. “Sophie tells me you have some fashion questions.”

“Yes,” Leah said urgently. “I need to know what widows are supposed to wear.”

Mary Ann reached out and patted her hand. “The key to the look is earth tones.”

“Earth tones.” By the awe in Leah’s voice you would have thought Mary Ann had just spoken the true name of God.

“Hey, Sophie.”

I looked up to see Dena standing just outside of the kitchen.

“Is it okay for Jack to be getting into the cabinet beneath the sink?”

“Oh, my God!” I yelled.

Leah and I ran into the kitchen, pushing Dena aside just as Jack grabbed the Clorox scrub and dumped it onto Mr. Katz. Jack looked up at Leah with pride in his eyes. “Dirty cat.”

Leah scooped up Jack and I raced after Mr. Katz, who almost sent Mary Ann sprawling as he tried to pass her in the hall. I lunged for him and managed to throw him in the bathtub as he ran his claws down my arm. While I turned on the shower, Mr. Katz hissed and desperately tried to escape. I managed to rinse off the cleaning solution just as Mr. Katz punished me with a particularly painful scratch across the back of my wrist. He jumped out of the bathtub and darted out of the room. I looked up to see my three guests standing in the doorway.

“I know this might be an inopportune moment to bring this up,” Leah said slowly, “but is anyone else impressed that my son made the connection between Mary Ann’s statement that the cat was dirty and Clorox? It really is an amazing mental leap for an eighteen-month-old.”

I pressed my hands against my wounds. The only leap I wanted Jack to make was into a playpen for the rest of the night. “You’re right, Leah, the moment’s definitely inopportune.”

Leah handed Jack to Mary Ann, who took him with no little trepidation. “Let me see your arms.” Leah peered at them and then pulled some cotton balls and rubbing alcohol out of my medicine cabinet. She sat down next to me on the edge of the bathtub and held my arms under the running faucet before patting them dry and applying the alcohol. “Spare me the dramatics,” she said as I gasped in pain.

I narrowed my eyes. “This from the girl who was voted ‘most likely to overreact’ in high school?”

“I’ve changed.” She tossed the used cotton balls in the wastebasket. “Besides, you don’t know what pain is until you’ve—”

“If you finish that sentence with ‘given birth,’ I’m going to have to punch you,” Dena said flatly.

Leah glared at her. “It’s true. Not that you would know anything about childbirth or anything else that involved any kind of commitment.”

“I’m plenty committed. I’m committed to my friends, my career, and I’m very committed to my quest to help the women of San Francisco find their G-spot.”

Mary Ann sighed disapprovingly and took Jack out of the room before Dena could inadvertently corrupt him.

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