Deborah relented, almost as if wanting to be told what to do. “Look at me, I’m a mess. I’d just get her more upset. I should get back.”
“To the office?”
She nodded miserably.
“You can work, feeling like this?”
“I have to.”
Jill took her arm. “Come. Let’s walk.” She was still remembering Edna’s “That man! There was something about him…”
What Edna? Think!
They started down the block. “Got any Visine?” Deborah asked. “Antidepressants? Happy pills to make the world go away?”
“Not on me.”
A patrol car and a taxi drove past them.
“How’s Reid doing?” Jill asked quietly, shoving her cold hands in her pockets. She realized her phone was still recording. Kept it on.
Deborah studied her soggy tissue. “Horrible,” she breathed. “What a nightmare this is. The police…leaned on him last night, treated him like a suspect.”
Then she caught herself, and her eyes flashed. I’m a lawyer and that’s all I’m going to say - but they lied; showed conflict. It was as if she needed to talk to someone, desperately. Jill knew that look. Doctors saw it all the time. Something just under Deborah’s surface was bursting, crying out to be heard.
Jill gave her an opening. “The police treat everyone like a suspect.”
“Every man who’s had a fling with Jody?” Deborah asked bitterly. She felt okay saying that. Everyone knew.
“That could include a lot of people,” Jill improvised. “Ex boyfriends. Guys angry because she only loved…” Oops. She’d gone too far. She only loved Reid.
Deborah nodded, not disagreeing. Sexual jealousy was a major motive. “I suppose they’re leaning on Eric Rennie too.”
“Big time. And how many of Bruno Shepard’s partygoers mad at Jody for screwing with their careers? Plus no end of unknowns who were at her own parties? Guys who may have come on to her?”
Jill’s brow furrowed. “Was there anyone at your firm who asked Jody out, and may have been rebuffed? Or who just didn’t like her?”
Deborah paled. The lawyer in her was trying to shut her up. She knew of Jill’s and David’s relationship with the police, and that anything she said would get back to them.
Too bad, her drawn features seemed to decide. The cops were leaning on Reid.
“Actually, yes,” she said, coloring a little, feeling guilty. “But – oh, forget I said that. Jay’s a preppy dweeb, wouldn’t hurt a fly. There was never anything romantic between them. They just…disliked each other.”
“Jay’s in your entertainment division?”
“Yes. Jay Arender. Please forget I said that. I’m not myself. I feel terrible.”
Message carefully given, carefully received. Tell the cops about a lawyer named Jay Arender at the Wylies’ law firm. It was one of those big white glove firms, Jill knew. Their entertainment division was small compared to their corporate and other sections.
They walked, watching the sidewalk. Deborah said softly, “Reid’s and my separation last January... It was my fault.”
Jill looked at her. Another taxi drove past. A hand waved behind the tinted glass.
“I pushed him away,” Deborah said in a long sigh. “After three years of trying, a miscarriage last October. Then my depression for months. Then omigod Jody running in to make poor, neglected Reid feel better. He tried to be supportive, but said it was like I wasn’t even there.” Deborah bent her head, wiped her eyes. “A separated man has a fling. It’s not unusual.”
“Hardly.”
“Only Jody built it into an obsession. January was horrible. She was such a child. Didn’t realize who Reid really was…”
Jill looked at her questioningly.
A haggard gesture. “He’s strayed before. But he always comes back to me. Hadn’t Jody heard? That’s why I was able to forgive her finally. Reid and I went through our awfulness, but with time we were back to happy.”
Back to happy, back to happy, gardening on our roof, even, getting muddy, laughing… Deborah droned softly for another minute. Jill’s phone recorded.
Then Deborah took a breath. “If it hadn’t been a business relationship…plus we’d been like Jody’s family. But last January I couldn’t cope. Couldn’t even get out of bed. Depression so sucks.”
“Ha. Tell me about it.”
It was Deborah’s turn to look questioningly at Jill, who spoke rapidly, as if she’d told this damn story too many times and was tired of it. Had moved forward. Built a life.
“Only child of divorced parents. Mother an ambitious prosecutor, no time for her pesky kid - then she died when I was in college. I’d never gotten to know my father, who’d remarried, moved to L.A., had another daughter and died when I was fifteen. So by college the big D finally hit. I felt so alone. Neglected studies, stopped eating.”
The soulful, reddened eyes still looked at Jill. “How did you come out of it?”
“A friend who’s still my best friend – after David, I mean. Tricia was my rock through college, med school, internship. She’s what helped me learn to, uh, let people in, because that’s when I met David. Loved him in, like, a day.”
“He also saved your life.” A rueful smile. “I’ve seen the chopper footage of him shooting that creep, saving you on that old roof. Jody made us watch it on YouTube. What a guy you’ve got.”
Jill clenched, recalling the nightmare roof scene of almost two years ago. “We were both almost killed.” She shrugged. “Shared trauma brings you close real fast.”
They’d reached the corner of Lexington Avenue. Jill looked out at the one-way traffic roaring downtown, everyone blaring and honking away, hunched to their steering wheels, stressed about their own angst.
“Deb! Hey Deborah!” they heard.
And turned.
16
A young woman was tearing down the sidewalk. Dark boots, short dark hair, and a dress under a trench coat like Deborah. She reached them, huffing, and hugged Deborah.
“Robin Abel, meet Jill Raney,” Deborah said, introducing Robin as her assistant.
Jill extended her hand, summoning up a smile. Robin Abel had the look of a sexy gym rat. A work-out-daily, very pretty gym rat despite the conservative-swanky Burberry scarf and Coach laptop bag over her shoulder.
A younger, less wan version of Deborah.
“I just passed you in the cab,” she told her boss breathlessly. “Did you see me? I waved. Sorry I left the office. I had to come, put a bouquet.”
Deborah hadn’t seen her. In her depressed fog hadn’t seen anything trudging down the block.
Robin waved a hand. Spewed in a sorrowful rush. The office was bedlam. Reid went home disgusted with the reporters, the looks, the non-stop, embarrassing phone calls to his office and Deborah’s. Robin had been running back and forth between both their offices, handling the barrage of snoopy clients’ calls.
“Selfish bastards,” she grimaced. “Faking concern, fishing for hot dirt.” Her eyes bounced from Jill to Deborah; belatedly noticed that she’d been crying.
“Oh God, some help I am. I’m sorry, Deb. Forget what I said about the office.” She tried lamely to change the subject. “How’s Edna doing? Did you see her? Tell her?”
Deborah shook her head. “Jill told her. Edna’s devastated and resting.”
Robin hunched her slender shoulders; shuddered violently. “I passed that tent,” she said emotionally. Seemed nervous, too. “It’s so horrible. Poor Celie. I didn’t know her as well as Jody but-”
“Reid went home?” Deborah cut in.
“Yes.” Robin got more emotional. “He’s really despondent. Raging, too. This nightmare is so wrong. He said he’s just going to throw himself on the bed and lie there.”
“Like me in January,” Deborah sighed. “Excuse me. I’m going to call him.”
She stepped away to punch at her phone. Raised it to her ear and looked out at the traffic.
Jill asked
Robin, “You know Edna?”
A nod, watching Deborah. “The dear lady must’ve called Jody ten times a day. Jody was always sweet to her, but once asked me to go down to apologize for the noise one of her parties was making. That’s the first time I met her.” Robin looked back to Jill. “We also watered Jody’s plants for her when she was away. Like their umpteen location shoots in Vancouver.”
Jill frowned in confusion. “You and Edna watered Jody’s plants?”
Robin smiled uneasily. “No, Deb and I did. Jody has big plants, like, trees in tubs. Edna would come up and watch, mince around trying to help with her tiny old watering can. She liked the company. We’d listen to her funny old tales.”
“You had the key to Jody’s place?”
“Deb did. Ugh, carrying water back and forth in Jody’s big watering cans…I think that’s what threw Deb’s back out.”
Jill looked over at Deborah pacing, speaking intently into her phone with her head down. Earlier she did appear to be favoring one leg. “Deborah has back trouble?”
“Yeah. Sciatica. Bad pain down her right leg. Takes pills that don’t help.”
“So she gave you the key?”
“Uh-huh. We both love plants. Jody’s plants,” she called to Deborah, who was just hanging up. “We can’t let them die.”
Deborah came back to them, looking pale. “I’m going home. Reid’s in a bad way.”
Robin made a pained sound and grasped her shoulders, turning her away slightly. “He’s been talking to Hemmer?” she asked quietly, under the blare of a passing truck.
But Jill caught the name. Tuck Hemmer, a celebrity criminal defense lawyer. Rappers, athlete wife beaters, film stars caught in everything from DUI to drugs and worse. Robin was comforting Deborah, whose face had crumpled in tears again.
Jill could imagine the conversation.
Hemmer giving Reid the news that cops liked him best for this. It looked bad: a straying husband tries to save his marriage; the girl he dallied with won’t let go; he’s worried his wife will permanently throw in the towel - so…motive?
Suddenly Deborah was making hurried apologies, her features pleading. “Help us get the guy who did this,” she begged Jill. “I’m a former defense attorney. We make a good pair.” To Jill’s surprise Deborah hugged her. The two exchanged cards with promises to call and help each other.
Deborah said good-bye, and hailed a taxi.
And Robin just stood there, watching the cab disappear. She looked shaken. Another cab with its light on approached.
“You take it,” Jill said.
“I wouldn’t know what to tell him. I don’t want to go back to the office.” Her fingers scrubbed her brow. “God, I feel sorry for Deborah.”
Someone else pushed past and grabbed the cab.
Robin stood as if frozen, looking around, looking lost. “I really wish I could…” Her voice trailed, had a yearning quality.
Jill guessed. “You wish you could go comfort the Wylies?”
Robin looked surprised, but didn’t deny. “This is insane,” she burst out. “Reid is known to the cops. He was one of them, always the one most haunted by domestic violence cases, unsolved rapes. I can’t imagine them really suspecting him of this.”
My, she sure loved talking about Reid. The light at the corner turned red and the traffic slowed. So did their conversation. Jill wanted to keep Robin talking.
“Reid used to be a homicide detective?” she asked, knowing the answer but so what.
“Yes.” Robin looked down at her boots. They were scuffed. “He was a wonderful homicide detective. He’s the strong one. Deborah’s emotionally fragile, weak. I…”
There was a hesitancy in her voice. Jill fixed on her grim eyes. “What?”
“I feel sorry for Deborah. She’s too forgiving. Reid’s the first one to say he’s made terrible, stupid choices in his life. When things got better he begged Deb to tell Jody to find another lawyer, but she was putty to the little girl’s pleading. So Reid gave in. He was just trying to keep the peace between everyone.” Robin exhaled bitterly.
The traffic started moving again. Jill’s phone vibrated in her pocket.
r u back? Where r u? read David’s text.
80th & Lex, Jill texted. Back asap.
She repocketed her phone. Bunched her lips, her mind changing tacks. “I’m curious… If Reid was in homicide, what made him choose entertainment law?”
“He’s a musician,” Robin said, checking her phone too, unhappily scrolling messages. “Plays guitar and harmonica with a cop band. The others are still cops.”
She looked up as traffic resumed moving. “He hated seeing his musician friends getting screwed, so he went to law school nights, struggled sleepless through his day shifts.” A slow, sad headshake. “He’s too good to have something like this happen.”
Jill gave Robin a bolstering look. “Hey. Maybe the killer was some obscurity at one of Jody’s parties. Someone not on the cops’ radar yet.”
Robin brightened. “That’s what I think. Those parties Jody had? I’d ask, Who’s that - and that? And she’d say, ‘I dunno, it’s so-and-so’s loser pal.’ She didn’t even know some of the freaks in her place.”
Another taxi approached. “Take it,” Jill said. “There’s others.”
Robin took it. Hugged Jill first, as Deborah had done. Looked curiously relieved as she ducked in the door. “Definitely some creep from one of her parties,” she called.
Jill nodded, waved, and caught the next cab.
Traffic down Lexington was heavy. The cab passed crowded sidewalks, busy stores and restaurants, pedestrians crossing at corners. Jill looked out, but took in none of it. Her mind felt like a rushing kaleidoscope of what she’d just seen and heard. Amazing, she thought. People who wouldn’t dream of talking to the police…
She called Alex Brand to report on Edna, and the surprise exchanges with Deborah and Robin.
“The visit yielded more than expected,” she said, taking him fast through the three conversations, nervously checking the time. She was late for Grand Rounds.
Alex was pleased. “Robin Abel especially. Connor and Zienuc said one of the show’s writers told them Robin has the hots for Reid. Deborah sounds like one of those wives who turn a blind eye.”
“Maybe just partly true. She knows Reid’s screwed around before, but said he always comes back to me. By the way, here’s a new name: Jay Arender, lawyer at the Wylie’s firm. There wasn’t anything romantic between him and Jody, but it sounds like they didn’t like each other. Maybe hated each other.”
“We’ll check him out.”
Jill frowned as something big nagged. “Celie’s attack. Shouldn’t the killer have been covered with blood?”
“No. Either smarts or luck. He chased Celie, stabbed her from behind, yanked her probably by her hair down onto her back, resumed stabbing from behind her head. The autopsy’s being done now and will tell us more.” Alex drew a breath. “Fibers found match nothing we’ve got so far. Dark wool, like from a thousand dark wool pants.”
“Footprints?”
“Two partials. Killer stayed on the bricks.”
The cab swerved east onto busy, two-way 72nd Street. Jill didn’t look up.
“If there is anything between Reid and Robin, she might feel guilty toward Deborah. Said ‘I feel sorry for her’ twice. But women poison, they don’t usually stab – and can a homicidal maniac feel sorry?”
“They can fake it. And penicillin was the poison. Plus Celie wasn’t supposed to come along, remember.” Alex inhaled. “People go crazy. Plead temporary insanity later.”
“If they’re caught,” Jill said.
“Right. If they’re caught.”
“I recorded all three of those conversations, if that helps.”
“Excellent. Another bonus.”
17
The planets were yellowish, translucent spheres, a group of them clustered together. From the right a huge, hollow rod pushed into them, and slo
wly slurped one of the planets into its barrel.
“Embryo biopsy,” said a voice electronically amplified in the darkness, “may be performed after three days of culture. The embryos will typically have eight cells by day three…”
They’d already started. Jill’s late entrance momentarily swept light across the screen’s picture, but no one turned. Lit notebooks in every seat kept up their soft, tap-tap note taking. The male voice floated over the renewed semi dark of the amphitheater. Jill found David in the last row, leaning forward and watching, absorbed.
She slid into the empty seat next to him, and he turned and hugged her. “Mission accomplished?” he whispered.
“Yup,” she whispered, kissing him. “What’d I miss?”
“Nothing. You know this stuff. You missed a twins delivery, though. Cute kids.”
This is how they always met, if one of them was late for Grand Rounds. First one there saved a seat in the last row, which was easy. Most of the others aimed for the front.
David wasn’t even taking notes. They did know this stuff, although reviewing it was good.
On the screen, what looked like a 100 mm tank gun slurped up another planet. The tank gun was really a tiny pipette, 1/20th the diameter of a human hair.
“…process involves the removal of one to two cells,” continued the lilting voice, a visiting researcher from London. “After the biopsy - prompted in this case by previous loss of a child from cystic fibrosis - embryos not affected by the disorder are selected for transfer to the mother’s uterus…”
“Edna any help?” David whispered.
Really whispered, but a fourth year med student in front of them turned self-importantly with Do you mind? on her face.
“Text,” Jill whispered.
They did. Got out their phones, shoulders touching, with Jill texting first.
edna saw someone 11 pm. not sure face. dark pants dark hair chasing celie down back stairs.
gawd.
not sure face! edna not reliable. talks to her dog, thinks it’s still 1940.
but 11 pm nails when killer came.
The London voice droned, “Couples who are at high risk of having a child with a severe genetic disorder may choose pre-implantation genetic diagnosis for many reasons, including…”
EMBRYO 5: SILVER GIRL (EMBRYO: A Raney & Levine Thriller) Page 8