“The police came,” Luisa said. “They searched the whole apartment. It took me forever to straighten everything up after they left.”
I slipped the third and last key into the keyhole. It didn’t turn either.
“This place is worse than mine,”
I muttered. “At least my keys work.”
“Our keys work,” Luisa said indignantly. “The property managers installed new locks only last week. You must have the old ones.”
She disappeared into her apartment and was back a moment later with a single key on a string. “Maria and I have copies of each other’s keys, just in case.” She slipped it into the lock, turned it easily and pushed open the door.
I dropped the useless keys onto Maria’s tiny coffee table and got some soap from the bathroom. I found the Bible in the bedroom. When I picked it up, something slipped out from between the pages. A photograph. I picked it up and looked at it. The photo was of Maria with a handsome young man. The young man had his arm around her.
It was Andrew Withers.
CHAPTER NINE
The guard at the detention center searched me and my purse. He searched the Bible too, leafing through the pages and holding it up by the spine to see if anything fell out. Finally he said, “It will be given to the inmate.”
I met with Maria in a long room that was divided in half by a wall of Plexiglas. Tables lined both sides of the wall. Between each table was a divider that offered only the smallest amount of privacy. Attached to each divider was a phone. I sat at the table I had been assigned. Maria appeared through a door on the other side. She smiled when she saw me.
“You brought my Bible?” she asked as soon as she picked up the phone on her side of the glass.
“I had to leave it with the guard. He said he would give it to you.”
She nodded.
“Maria, I found a picture,” I said. “Of you and Mr. Withers’s grandson.”
She frowned. “His grandson? I don’t know Mr. Richard’s grandson. Where did you find this picture, Connie?”
“In your Bible. He has his arm around you.”
Recognition flickered in her eyes.
“You mean Andrew,” she said.
“Yes. Andrew Withers.”
“His name is Andrew Stevenson,” Maria said.
“Maybe that’s the name he gave you—”
“I saw it on his driver’s license.”
I remembered what Charles had said when Enid introduced Andrew to me. Maybe Charles hadn’t formally adopted Andrew. Or maybe Andrew had decided to keep his own name.
“Were you seeing him, Maria?” I asked.
“We went out a few times. But it was nothing.”
“How did you meet him?”
“I was in the park, and he came up to me. He’s very nice, but…” She shrugged.
“Not rich enough?” I asked.
She smiled. “No, not rich enough. But he helped me get the job at Mr. Richard’s.”
“He did?”
“I told him I was working for Mike, and he told me he knew someone who was always looking for some help. The next thing I knew, Mike sent me to this man’s house, the one Andrew knew. That’s how I started working there.”
“Mike never told me that.” In fact, Mike had made it seem as if he was the one who had found the job.
“Mike likes to take credit for everything,”
Maria said. “I was grateful to Andrew. But I didn’t want to go out with him.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“A few months ago. I kept telling him I wasn’t interested.”
“Kept telling him?”
“He called me. He showed up at my apartment. I told him he had to stop doing that.”
“Did you tell him you were in love with Mr. Withers?”
“How could I?” Maria said. “I didn’t know myself until a few weeks ago.”
And as of yesterday, Andrew hadn’t known that Mr. Withers was dead. He had been away somewhere.
“What about your boyfriend and your child back home, Maria?”
She sat up straight. “How do you know about them?”
“Enid Withers told me,” I said. “Mr. Withers knew about them, didn’t he?”
She hung her head. “Yes,” she said softly.
“Did you tell him or did he tell you?”
She was silent for a moment. When she raised her head, her eyes were filled with tears.
“He asked me if there was any reason I couldn’t marry him,” she said quietly. “At first I didn’t know what he was talking about. Then I saw something in his eyes. He had papers—information about me. I was so ashamed for lying. So I told him everything. I said I was sorry. I said I love my daughter, but I don’t love her father. I also said I understood if he didn’t want me because of her. Do you know what he said, Connie?”
I shook my head.
“He said he loved me no matter what. He said he wanted to marry me and make me happy. He said he wanted my daughter to feel like a princess and that he couldn’t wait to meet her. Then he tore up the papers he had about me and threw them away.”
“You told me you were on the run from Colombian gangsters, Maria. You didn’t tell me you lived in Honduras.”
“I had to leave Colombia. I went to Honduras first, and then I came here.”
She had an answer for everything. I didn’t know whether to believe her or not.
“Tell me everything about that morning.”
“I have told you everything, Connie.”
“Tell me again.”
Slowly she went through the events of the morning Mr. Withers had been murdered. When she finished, I asked, “What about any smells?” “What do you mean?”
“I smelled something when I got there. Cologne, I think. Did you notice it?”
She shook her head.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Was Mr. Withers wearing cologne that morning?”
A smile crossed her face.
“He liked to smell nice,” she said. “Sometimes he put on too much, and it made me sneeze. Then we both laughed.”
“Did his cologne have vanilla tones?”
“I don’t know,” Maria said. “You smell things that I don’t even notice, Connie. He just wears something nice. That’s all I know.”
A guard appeared and told Maria her time was up. Maria had one last question for me.
“Connie, do you think they will let me go? I don’t want my baby to be born in a prison.”
CHAPTER TEN
I stared through the glass at Maria. Baby? She was pregnant?
“They have to let me out of here,” she said before she was led away. “They have to let me get the money Mr. Richard left for me. I need it. The baby will need it.”
“Did you tell the police about the baby, Maria?”
“No. The only person who knew was Mr. Richard.”
* * *
After I left the detention center, I sat in my car and thought about Maria and Mr. Withers—and the baby. I was sure it was going to make things worse for Maria. Enid and Charles would claim that she got herself pregnant in order to coerce Mr. Withers into marriage and changing his will. That, together with Mike’s testimony that she had requested only rich male clients, would make it seem as if she had planned something like this all along. Maria’s baby would not be brought up in prison—but it wouldn’t be brought up by Maria either.
Finally, I pulled out my phone and called Emma. She listened without interrupting, then gave me the phone number that I asked for.
* * *
Mr. Camden was frowning when he got out of his car a few hours later.
“I’m still not sure what it is you’re after, Ms. Suarez,” he said.
I explained to him about my allergies.
“I don’t see what that has to do with Mr. Withers’s estate,” he said.
I explained that too, as best as I could.
He hunted in his pocke
t and pulled out a key.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll give you five minutes, but I’m staying with you the whole time.”
“Actually, I was going to ask you to come along,” I said. I dug in my purse for my inhaler. “If I have an extreme reaction, I may need help.”
He stepped back a half pace, his hands raised in protest.
“I’m not a doctor,” he said.
“If I pass out—which I hope I won’t— just call nine-one-one,” I said.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea, Ms. Suarez,” he said.
“Please, Mr. Camden. All I’m asking for is five minutes.”
Reluctantly he agreed. He unlocked the front door and followed me up the stairs to Mr. Withers’s bedroom. He hovered nervously behind me as I opened various bottles and containers and sniffed what was inside. He tensed up when I had to use the inhaler. He rushed to my side when I started to wheeze despite it. He didn’t relax until we were outside again.
“Well?” he said. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
I shook my head.
“Now what?”
“Now I have to do a little more research. Then I guess I contact the police.” But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t imagine Bodie taking me seriously. Especially once he found out that Maria was pregnant—if he didn’t already know.
* * *
Armed with a brand-new inhaler, I ventured into the main floor of the city’s largest department store. Usually I avoided places like that. The main floor is always crowded with cosmetics counters with attractive young women in front of each of them, handing out scent cards and offering perfume samples. For me, this was usually a recipe for disaster.
But this time I braced myself. I held my breath as I marched past the cosmetics counters and headed for the back of the store where the masculine fragrances were displayed. There were so many of them.
“Can I help you?” asked an immaculately groomed young woman.
“Yes. I’m looking for a cologne,” I said. “Something with a musky scent.”
She smiled. “Almost everything we have has a musky scent.”
“This has a hint of vanilla, I think.”
She thought for a moment before pulling down seven or eight different bottles.
“These all have vanilla undertones,” she said.
I pulled my inhaler out of my purse and set it onto the counter. Then I reached for the first bottle.
The woman blocked my hand.
“You have allergies,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
I nodded.
“You should stay away from this department,” she said. “You should stay away from this whole floor.” When I looked surprised, she said, “My sister has the same allergies. Once she had so much trouble breathing that she almost died.”
“So I guess you know something about first aid?” I said.
She nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I want to have to use it.”
“This is important,” I said.
“Trust me, there isn’t a man on the planet who’s worth it,” she said.
“I still need to try,” I said.
She studied me for a few seconds before pulling out a cell phone. “Just in case,” she said. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing.
* * *
I was never so glad to get out of a store and into the fresh air. My head was throbbing. My throat was constricted. I’d had to use the inhaler several times, and I was still having trouble breathing. If I had stayed in there for another minute, I don’t know what would have happened.
But at least I had an answer.
I stood outside the store, gulping in the spring air. I didn’t care that it smelled like exhaust fumes from all the cars that were circling around, looking for a parking space. It was air—outside air—and that was all I cared about.
Before I headed back to my car, I called Bodie. I ended up in voice mail and, after the beep, left him a detailed message.
* * *
It was dark when I arrived back at my apartment building. Again all the parking spots near the road were gone. The overhead lights hadn’t been fixed either. I felt my hand tremble as I got out of the car, peering around cautiously to make sure that no one was going to jump out at me. When I reached the edge of the darkness and stepped into where the lights were, I felt the tension leave my shoulders.
A dog barked.
Brutus.
He was pulling so hard on his leash that he had yanked Tony Milano’s arm straight out in front of him.
“I see your bruise has faded,” he said when he was close enough.
I nodded.
Brutus pulled harder at his leash.
“I think he’s trying to tell you something,” I said.
Tony laughed. As he trotted after Brutus, he turned back to me. “I hear your mother stopped by.”
My mother? The last I had heard, my mother was in Mexico. I wanted to ask him what he meant, but he was already across the street.
My apartment reeked of glue from the new floors in the kitchen and bathroom and from the new countertops. I felt my throat closing up. I wasn’t sure I could sleep here tonight. Maybe I could spend the night at Maria’s. I was pretty sure Luisa would let me in if I explained my problem.
I put down my purse and reached for the light switch. Before I could flip it on, something flew out of the darkness at me. I crashed to the ground. What was happening? Who was it? Someone—a man—fell on top of me and pressed a rough hand over my mouth and nose. I fought back, bucking to get him off me. I kicked. I tried to bite his hand. Then I raised my knee, hard. He let out a groan and fell to the floor beside me. In a sliver of light from my kitchen window, I saw his face.
It was Charles Withers.
I started to get to my feet.
Something hit me from behind.
My knees buckled. I felt myself slide to the floor.
Blackness engulfed me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I heard voices. Angry, hushed voices. Charles Withers’s voice. And Enid’s.
“You said we wouldn’t hurt her. You said—”
“She’s fine,” Enid said.
“But—”
“Why don’t you wait outside, Charles? I’ll let you know if I need you.”
“They’re not here, Enid. She doesn’t have them. Let’s get out of here.”
I opened my eyes. All of the kitchen drawers and cupboards were open. My desk had been ransacked. The contents of my purse were strewn all over the kitchen table.
“What are you doing here? What do you want?” I asked. My face felt huge and swollen, like someone had stuffed my head with cotton.
Enid spun around. Something blinded me. A flashlight. It shone in my face and then snapped off.
“Oh my God,” Charles said. “She’s seen us. She’ll call the police. She’ll have us arrested. We broke into her apartment. We assaulted her.”
“We didn’t break in,” Enid said. “Those workmen let me in.”
I remembered what Tony had said outside about my mother stopping by. Now it made sense.
“You entered my apartment under false pretenses,” I said. “That’s illegal.”
I thought about the attempt to grab me in the parking lot—and about Enid’s instructions to me when I had gone to clean Mr. Withers’s house after his murder.
I also remembered what Maria had told me about her apartment being searched and about Charles and Enid wanting to know what she had on her when she was arrested. It was all adding up.
“And you assaulted me,” I said. “Twice.”
Light from the window washed Charles’s face.
“Twice?” he said.
“Once just now. And once the night before last, in the parking lot.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Charles said. “And we can explain—”
“You dropped a glove, Enid,” I said. It was a man’s glove, but I remembered how easily it had slipped off her hand. I also remembered wha
t Tony had said: He runs like a girl. “The police have it. I gave it to them when I reported the assault. It’s evidence.”
Enid’s whole body stiffened.
“What’s she talking about, Enid?” Charles said. “What have you done? What have we done?”
“Nothing,” Enid snapped. “Wait outside, Charles.”
“You’re looking for something,” I said. But what? That’s when it hit me. “It’s the keys, isn’t it?” That’s why they hadn’t worked in Maria’s lock. “You told the police Maria stole from your father-in-law. You had her and her apartment searched. Did you tell them one of the things she took was a set of keys? The ones you left at your father’s house after you killed him?”
“We didn’t kill him,” Charles said. He sounded horrified at the thought.
“But you are here for the keys, aren’t you?”
“Enid left them at the house by mistake. She doesn’t want the police to think—”
“That she killed him?” I said. I turned to her. “The keys were in his bedroom. That’s where he was killed.”
“We had nothing to do with that,” Enid said. “We don’t want any complications about the will, that’s all. If the police think I was there, it might confuse the jury.”
“You mean they might think that someone besides Maria killed Mr. Withers?” I said.
Charles was staring at his wife.
“You didn’t tell me you dropped your keys in the bedroom,” he said.
“What difference does it make? I didn’t kill him,” Enid said. “Why would I?”
“Because you found out he was going to marry Maria,” I said. “So you killed him before he could do it and change his will. You didn’t know that he’d already made a new one.”
Enid was silent.
“Then you attacked me and tried to steal my purse. You were looking for your keys,” I continued. “Now what are you going to do? Are you going to kill me too?”
“No!” Charles cried. “Nobody is going to kill anyone.”
I didn’t look at him. My eyes were locked on Enid.
“You know the police are going to find out about this,” I said. “You know I’m going to tell them what I suspect. And with the glove and this break-in and the keys, they’re going to have a lot of questions for you. For both of you.”
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