Passion, Betrayal and Killer Highlights

by Kyra Davis

  “What?” I said again. Leah and I looked at each other in complete amazement. “You mean to tell me that Erika’s been successfully hiding a cocaine addiction, only to up and overdose out of the blue?”

  “Yes,” Lorenzo said as he sat back in his chair, “it does seem peculiar. But there was no sign of forced entry or any other indication that her death was anything other than an overdose.”

  My mouth dropped open. Was he kidding? The door had been left open, the place had been ransacked…how many more signs did he need? Unless, of course, he was baiting me. I abruptly closed my mouth and lowered myself onto the armrest of the love seat. “I never would have thought Erika was the type,” I said finally.

  Leah was frozen in place, and for a second I thought she was returning to a catatonic state. She looked down at her hands that still clutched the picture of Bob at the DQ, rumpled as it now was. “I just…I just can’t believe this.” Her eyes met mine. “None of this makes sense.”

  Lorenzo was staring at her, his expression unreadable. “So you had no idea.”

  Leah shook her head furiously. “None. I would think that with all her health problems she would have had the common sense to stay away from drugs.” She looked out the window as if she expected the incoming sunlight to illuminate things for her. “She always drank a little bit too much…but cocaine? That’s just incredible.”

  “And when was the last time you saw her again?”

  “Um…” Leah squeezed her eyes closed.

  Only I knew the image she was trying to block out.

  “It’s been weeks—three weeks, I believe,” she said.

  “And where was that?”

  “We had lunch at The Flower Market Cafe. Jack was spending the afternoon with my mother.”

  “When was the last time you were in her house?”

  “Her house?” Leah was barely keeping it together. “I don’t know…it’s been a good year or so.”

  “I see.” Lorenzo stood up. “Well again, I’m sorry for your loss.” He slipped his notebook back in his pocket. “By the way, I like the new highlights.”

  Leah put her hand up to her hair self-consciously. “Sophie’s friend Marcus gave them to me. He was trying to make me feel better.”

  “Did it work?”

  “No.”

  “I see. This may seem like an odd request, but would it be all right if I took a strand of your hair?”

  Anatoly stepped forward. “She doesn’t have to give you a strand of her hair.”

  “Of course she doesn’t need to,” Lorenzo said smoothly. “I’m simply asking.”

  Leah looked to me and I shook my head.

  “Let’s not play games.” Anatoly walked over to Leah and put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s no secret Leah’s a suspect in her husband’s murder. She’d have to be stupid to hand over a piece of hair without consulting a lawyer.”

  Lorenzo smiled at Leah. “If you have nothing to hide there shouldn’t be any problem with handing over a strand of your hair. If you’re worried that it would somehow be used against you in your husband’s murder case, you can rest assured it won’t be. We know the two of you lived in the same house and we know you discovered the body. Your hair found at that crime scene proves nothing but that. So unless there’s something else…something you don’t want us to know, then there should be no reason not to give us a strand of hair.”

  Leah looked at me again, and then at Anatoly. Finally she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Detective, but I don’t go around ripping my hair out for people for no reason.” Stepping away from Anatoly, she beelined to the door and flung it open. “I believe we’ve answered all your questions, and after everything you’ve just told me, I would really like some time alone with my sister. So if you don’t mind…”

  Lorenzo nodded and walked toward the door, but hesitated when he was less than a foot away from Leah. “I must say, Mrs. Miller, I find your refusal…interesting.” With that he walked out of my apartment, and Leah slammed the door after him.

  I forced myself to peek over in Anatoly’s direction. He was standing very still. His expression was completely emotionless, but for some reason I felt sure that he wanted to strangle me.

  CHAPTER 12

  “Lies have a habit of catching up with you, but the truth always gets you right away, so you tell me which is better.”

  —Words To Die By

  Anatoly walked to the bay windows and looked out onto the street. “I’m guessing that you went to confront Erika, despite the fact that I warned you not to, and in doing so stumbled across her dead body.”

  Leah let out a little squeak of affirmation.

  “So neither of you killed her?”

  “No!” Leah and I said in unison.

  Anatoly sighed. “I didn’t think so, but I thought I should ask.”

  “But here’s the thing,” I said while I allowed myself to slide from the armrest of the love seat to the cushions. “Lorenzo was either baiting us or something really weird is going on. When Leah and I discovered Erika, there were signs of forced entry all over the place. Someone had been through her desk, torn apart her furniture, the works. There’s no way that was a simple overdose.”

  Anatoly tapped his fingers against the glass. “Lorenzo agrees with you. If he didn’t think Erika’s death was a homicide, he wouldn’t be questioning us. But my gut tells me he wasn’t lying about there being no signs of forced entry.”

  “So, what are you saying?” I asked. “That he’s either stupid or blind?”

  “I’m saying that someone cleaned up the crime scene before the police got there.”

  My mind flashed to that feeling I had back at Erika’s house—the feeling that Leah and I were not alone. “Okay,” I said quietly, “I’m officially freaking out now.”

  “You’re freaking out?” Leah let out something that vaguely resembled a laugh. “My husband and one of his many mistresses are dead, and the police were just here asking for a strand of my hair!”

  Anatoly turned and glared at us. “This wouldn’t be a problem if you two had just been up-front with me earlier. We could have come up with a story about you guys paying Erika a visit a week or so ago. Then any DNA evidence the police came across could easily have been dismissed as coincidental.”

  I pulled nervously on the edge of my sleeve. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I was under the impression that you were paying me to be on your side,” Anatoly continued. “How can I help you if you both refuse to be honest with me?”

  “Well, I’m sorry if we didn’t handle things the way you would have liked us to, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to act on a day-to-day basis!” Leah put her hands on her hips. “Do I talk to the press or do I avoid them? Do I go to Bob’s church and light a candle for him or do I cover my mirrors with sarongs like some kind of Hebrew Hawaiian freak? And now you want me to know automatically how to behave after finding some dead Jezebel lying in a pool of her own vomit? They didn’t exactly cover that one in last month’s issue of Good Housekeeping!”

  “Okay.” I held up my hands in a request for peace. “It’s obvious that everyone’s feeling a little overwrought and overtired. I think we all know what this situation calls for.”

  Anatoly looked away and Leah stared up at the ceiling. “Please don’t say it,” she moaned.

  “I’m sorry but I think I have to. This moment requires Starbucks.” I put my hand over my heart and assumed an overly dramatic tone. “Yes, there are people who would call me a sell-out for my refusal to boycott every national chain that has the audacity to be profitable but those people don’t appreciate the pleasures of corporate decadence. Particularly when the corporate decadence is blended up in a cup and topped with a generous amount of whipped cream.”

  Leah scoffed. “If they ever create a twelve-step program for Starbuck addicts, I’m signing you up.”

  Twenty minutes later we were all seated around a small round table with our beverages in hand and I
was feeling better with each sip of whipped cream. However, it was clear that my companions were having a harder time getting into the caffeinated spirit.

  “You two still look depressed,” I noted.

  Anatoly swished his cappuccino around in his mouth before answering. “I think it’s safe to say that our somber mood is related to all the killing that has been taking place recently.”

  I looked down at my drink. “Well, I’m going to go with the cup’s-half-full view of things.”

  Leah narrowed her eyes. “How can you say our cup is anything but drained?”

  “Well.” I racked my brain for a silver lining. “At least the murderer is only killing people we dislike. It doesn’t make the crimes less repugnant, but you must admit it’s an improvement over the last murderer I had to deal with.”

  Leah’s mouth dropped open. “My God, you’ve become a sociopath. I have a sociopathic sister. Can my life get any worse?”

  The image of Erika lying dead on the floor flashed before my eyes and I was suddenly overcome with a fresh sense of angst and fear. I shook my head fiercely and forced myself to think happy thoughts—like running my hand up and down Anatoly’s thigh while sipping an Irish coffee. I closed my eyes and tried to make the image clearer in my mind.

  “It’s not that I’m without empathy—I’m just very good at avoidance and denial.”

  “Disliking a murder victim is only a good thing if you are beyond suspicion,” Anatoly pointed out, “and neither of you has that advantage.”

  “I liked Erika,” Leah said softly. “She was always sweet to me. I think I liked her even more than I liked Bob.”

  I did my best to look surprised.

  “You know, with everything that’s happened I can’t muster up any anger for either of them,” Leah said, toying with the top button on her silk blouse. “Erika and I were friends. I actually thought she looked up to me. She always made a point to remind Bob of my birthday or our anniversary. I’m sure she picked out most of the gifts Bob gave me, too. Now I know those gifts were given out of guilt. Not even Bob’s guilt, but hers!” Leah pounded her fist against the table. “He couldn’t even take the time to relieve his own damn conscience—he had to have his mistress do it for him!”

  Anatoly smiled wryly. “Well, at least you’re not angry about it.”

  “You know,” I said, “the police would have another suspect if a certain detective had remembered to put batteries in his tape recorder.”

  I heard the hiss of the air Anatoly sucked in through his clenched teeth. “I made a mistake. There will be other opportunities.”

  “Oh, really?” I cocked my head in his direction. “You don’t think Taylor will get suspicious if we ask her to repeat everything she said to us during our last conversation? While we’re at it, we should ask her to confess to both Erika’s and Bob’s murder. I’m sure she’ll be obliging—”

  “Hello, darlings.”

  I looked up to see Marcus. On his arm was a sweet young thing with a head of jet-black curls. He looked a lot closer to his teens than his thirties.

  “Hey, sweetie,” I said, forcing myself to let go of my frustration long enough to offer Marcus a smile. “What are you doing in this neck of the woods?”

  “Looking for you, of course.” Marcus pulled up a couple of extra chairs and squeezed them between me and Leah. “I tried your house, and when you weren’t there I figured I’d try your place of worship.”

  I giggled and looked over at Marcus’s companion, who had chosen the seat nearest Leah. In fact, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her. “Marcus, are you going to introduce us?”

  “Of course. Leah and everyone, this is Charlie. Charlie, this is everyone and Leah.” He smiled at my sister and said, “Charlie’s your biggest fan.”

  “My…fan?” Leah said warily.

  “Yes, ohmygawd, I love you!” Charlie put a hand on his chest for emphasis. “I’ve been totally following your whole case. I saw you do that little black pride thing in front of the police station—that was perfect. You are such a diva.”

  Anatoly shook his head and stared into his drink, and Leah shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “Thank you, I never really thought of myself as a diva…” A little spark flashed in her eyes. “I could be a diva, though.” She reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “Maybe that’s what I should do! Everyone in San Francisco loves divas.”

  “Totally,” Charlie agreed enthusiastically.

  Marcus smiled and leaned back in his seat. “Charlie and I met last night at Café Fleur.”

  Charlie nodded. “Marcus is a Leo and I’m a Pisces.” He clasped his hands together and gave Marcus a dreamy smile. “Fire and water, a perfect balance. How could we not hook up?”

  Marcus sighed dramatically. “Yes, I believe it was fate that brought us to the men’s room at the same time.” He pulled a couple of fives out of his wallet. “Charlie, why don’t you get us a few grande machiatos?” He put his hand on his flat stomach. “Make mine nonfat—I wouldn’t want to overindulge right before fleet week.”

  Charlie nodded obediently and gave Marcus a kiss on the cheek before he went off to fetch their treats.

  “He’s cute,” I noted. “Kind of subservient, though.”

  “Yes, and I’m so the alpha male.” Marcus laughed. “He’s probably nothing more than short-term fling material but he does have some intriguing qualities.”

  I eyed Marcus curiously. “Such as?”

  “His job at the Gatsby for one. He works in Room Service.” Marcus waved a finger at Leah. “You said that Cheryl and Bob never spoke, but my boy Charlie spotted them at the Tonga Room having a little after-work powwow.”

  Now even Anatoly looked interested. “What were they talking about?”

  “I’m not entirely sure. What grabbed me was that Charlie said the two of them seemed very nervous and conspiratorial. But I think Charlie had been popping pills shortly before we hooked up, because, out of the blue he went all ‘Age of Aquarius’ on me and I couldn’t make heads or tails out of what he was saying. I figured you and Sophie might get more out of him with your little Sherlock-and-Watson thing.”

  “You dragged him over here just because you thought he might know something that could help me?” Leah beamed. “That is so thoughtful of you! Isn’t that thoughtful, Sophie?”

  I smiled genuinely at Marcus. “You’re a regular Mother Theresa.”

  “Mmm, never been a big fan of hers.” Marcus twisted one of his short dreadlocks. “Sure she helped a lot of kids and stuff, but so did Princess Di and she did it in Valentino.” He held his palms up to depict a scale. “Like Charlie said, it’s all about balance.”

  Anatoly smiled as Charlie came back to our table. “So, Charlie, Marcus was just telling us that you know Cheryl from the Gatsby.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Charlie gave Marcus one of the two drinks he had purchased and put a scone down in front of his own seat. “Did he tell you the whole Bob story?”

  “He started to,” Leah said. “He mentioned you saw them at the Tonga Room.”

  Charlie nodded. “They were sitting at the bar together and I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to give Scary Cherie a hard time.”

  “Scary Cherie?” Leah asked.

  “It’s a little nickname that some of us Gatsby folks gave to your sister-in-law.”

  Leah regarded him fondly. Clearly Charlie’s distaste for Cheryl raised her opinion of him considerably.

  “Anyhoo, I walked up to them and they were sitting there passing a note—”

  “Excuse me?” I leaned forward. “They were doing what?”

  “I know, it’s weird. At first I thought Cheryl was the one giving the note, but as soon as I walked up, she pocketed it, so maybe she was on the receiving end.”

  “Did you see what it said?” Anatoly asked.

  “She was too fast for me to see much, but I did get a glimpse of a name that was written on it—Maria E.Souza.”

  Leah wrinkled her b
row. “That name means nothing to me.”

  “Well, it meant something to me,” Charlie said. “The Souzas are this cute little Brazilian couple with matching parrot tattoos. At the time they were honeymooning at the Gatsby. I should know since I was the one constantly bringing the oysters up to their room.”

  “Did you talk to them about the note?” Anatoly asked.

  “Yes, Bob said the Souzas were acquaintances of his, and Cheryl was going to deliver a message to them. Of course, I didn’t know what Bob’s relationship was to Cheryl at the time—I just figured he was a poor bloke who suffered from a mental disability.”

  “You thought my husband was mentally disabled?”

  Charlie shrugged sheepishly. “Why would a mentally sound person have drinks with Cheryl?”

  Leah paused. “Good point. Continue.”

  “Well, the whole thing was just strange,” Charlie continued. “Why not just call the hotel and talk to the Souzas? But Scary Cherie got all huffy about my intruding on her private time, and she and Bob picked up and left.”

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Leah said, pushing her hair behind her ears. “Bob doesn’t know any cute Brazilians. Are you sure they weren’t cute Germans? He knows lots of Germans.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Marcus nodded solemnly. “People are always getting those Germans and Brazilians confused.”

  “I’m just saying that it doesn’t make sense for Bob to be sending a note to a couple of Brazilians! And ones with parrot tattoos?” Leah rolled her eyes. “There’s just no way he would have befriended people like that.”

  Anatoly sat back in his chair. “Other than the parrot tattoo, what did the woman look like?”

  “Like I said, she was cute,” Charlie looked at the ceiling as he conjured up the memory. “A little shorter than me—she was really feminine in a hip kind of way.”

  Anatoly nodded as if that meant something to him. “Did she spend all her time with the man she came with?”

  “Not all of it…I remember seeing her in the restaurant eating alone. But that could have been a one-time deal. I just remember them because I like the sound of Portuguese. Even the name of the language has a certain style to it. Porchegēz.” He rolled the r so that he sounded like an exaggerated Ricky Ricardo.