“I wouldn’t think of dumping it anywhere else. Can you do it or not?”
“Only if it’s off the books,” he replied, puffing out his cheeks. “It’ll have to come in through the back door on tiptoes. I’ll talk to my girl Claudia. See if she knows someone in Farmington who’ll do her a solid. And there might be someone in our ME’s office who’ll help me out. But I’ll still need a whole lot more to get my captain on board.”
“Like what?”
“Like a paper trail. Bruce Weiner’s birth certificate, the adoption records. All of that ought to be recorded somewhere. Trouble is, if you’re right about any of this…”
“Oh, I’m right.”
“Then as soon as I start nosing around a really loud alarm bell will go off and the Kidd family will shut me right down.” He stared down into his coffee cup. “This sister of Bruce’s…”
“Sara? What about her?”
“If they’ve got her on tape talking to you then her life may be in danger.”
“Legs, if anything happens to that girl I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Same goes for her parents,” he added. “They’re the ones who legally adopted Bruce. They know a lot. Too much, maybe. Where is it that they live?”
I gave him their address in Willoughby.
“I’m going to ask the Willoughby PD to keep an eye on that house.”
“Does this mean you believe me?”
“It means I’d rather be safe than sorry. Who was Bruce tight with?”
“His roommate, Chris Warfield.”
“Okay, I can reach out to the campus police. Anyone else?”
“No one else,” I stated firmly.
He looked me in the eye and said, “Yeah, there is.”
“Legs, there’s no one else.”
“Yeah, there is.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because you suck as a liar.”
“Really? I always thought I was pretty good.”
“Maybe with other people. Me, I can see right through you. Who else was Bruce tight with? And don’t you dare hold out on me.”
“Charles Willingham,” I said, swallowing. “The Charles Willingham. The two of them were extremely close, okay?”
He stared at me. “When you say ‘extremely close’ are you saying?…”
“I’m saying it.”
“Okay, that particular nugget we keep to ourselves.”
“Thank you.”
“But I’m for sure putting a man on him. Any idea where he?—”
“He’s staying with his mom, Velma, for a few days. She lives in the Martin Luther King projects. And Charles confides in her.”
“Anybody else?”
“That’s everybody.”
Legs shook his head at me. “Not so, doofus. There’s you.”
“They could have taken me out last night at Candlewood Lake. If they wanted me dead I’d be dead.”
“Don’t be too sure. That was last night. Today’s a whole new scenario. Kathleen’s dead. And now you’ve reached out to me. That might change everything as far as they’re concerned. Are you packing?”
I patted the pocket of my duffel coat, nodding. “But Mom never carries a weapon. Neither does Rita.”
“I’ll ask somebody to keep an eye on them off the clock. For Meyer Golden’s widow I bet I can scrounge up more than three-dozen volunteers. Your father was beloved. I was proud to know him.”
“So was I.”
“I’ve been granted some brief, respectful face time with Kathleen’s mother, Eleanor, tomorrow morning. It falls under the category of routine follow-up. I’m guessing that Bobby the K and Meg will be there. Also this attorney of theirs, Peter Seymour.”
“Wait until you get a load of his shoes.”
“His what?”
“You were saying?…”
“Maybe I’ll find out something about Kathleen that’ll shed a light on what’s going on here. But I’ll have to tread super careful or Seymour will show me the door.”
“That you can count on. Any chance I can tag along?”
“In what capacity?”
“I’m working for the Weiner family.”
“You are?”
“Well, no. Although Sara did try to hire us last night.”
“Did I remember to thank you for dumping this in my lap?”
“I believe you did.”
Legs Diamond drained the last of his coffee, looking down into his empty cup. “Let’s say, just for the sake of argument, that Kathleen Kidd did have a baby way back when she was thirteen. Let’s say she was Bruce Weiner’s birth mother. Why suddenly take them out now, after all of these years?”
“Her brother does intend to be our next governor.”
“Yo, I totally get that. And I get that the tabloids would go hog wild if this ever came out. But so what? The Kidds have been tabloid fodder for as long as there have been tabloids. What’s there to be so afraid of? Seriously, who cares if his emotionally unstable sister got herself knocked up twenty years ago?”
I drank the last of my own coffee. “Good question, Legs. I don’t have an answer. But somebody cares.”
* * *
SHE LIVED IN A FOUR-STORY brownstone on West 12 between Fifth and Sixth, which happens to be a really nice Greenwich Village block of really nice brownstones. Hers was especially nice. It had tall windows with window boxes. A polished hardwood front door with gleaming brass work. I tried the door but it was locked. There was no walk-in vestibule with the usual row of mailboxes and apartment buzzers. There was only the hardwood door and one buzzer. I pushed it and waited there on the front steps. But I wasn’t buzzed in. That’s because it wasn’t a buzzer. It was a doorbell.
When she opened the door I was pleased to discover that Sonya Posner was the exact same height as me in her bare feet. Mind you, I was wearing my thick-soled hiking boots. But it was nice to know that I could go nose-to-nose with her. It made it that much easier to get lost in those utterly mesmerizing pale green eyes of hers. As I stood there, gazing into them, my heart went pitter-patter all over again.
“I was so glad you called, cookie.”
“Really? I was afraid it was kind of short notice.”
“Are you kidding me? I was sitting here by the phone, praying it would ring and it would be you inviting me out to dinner tonight. I’m the one who came by your office, cupcakes in hand, remember? Come on in. It’s freezing out here.”
I followed Sonya into the entry hall, careful not to tromp on her slender bare feet. Her toenails were painted lime green. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a burgundy silk blouse with nothing, but nothing, underneath it. I heard music playing somewhere inside—the cast album of Gypsy.
“Your mom told me you’re huge into Ethel Merman,” Sonya explained. “So I downloaded a bunch of her Broadway shows from iTunes. Seriously, are you sure you’re not gay?”
“Positive.”
“I’m so glad.” To show me just how glad Sonya gave me a friendly, full-body hug—then drew back from me, arching one eyebrow. “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
“Actually, it’s a gun in my pocket.”
“Shut up! Let me see!”
I pulled it from the pocket of my duffel coat and showed it to her.
She gaped at it. “What do you call that thing?”
“It’s a Chief’s Special.”
“Is it loaded?”
“Yes, it is.” I returned it to my coat pocket.
“Forgive me for asking, Benji, but why are you carrying that?”
“There’s been a bit of trouble with a case I’m working on.” I took off my coat and hung it from the peg rack in the entry hall. “I’d rather not go into it if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. Are you kidding me? You’re gorgeous, dangerous and mysterious. Men don’t come any hotter. And I just love what you’re wearing.”
I was wearing a navy blue turtleneck sweater and je
ans—sort of like I’d seen Legs Diamond wearing. Okay, exactly like I’d seen Legs Diamond wearing. He’s my fashion icon. Some guys have James Dean. I have Legs.
Sonya led me into the living room and dining area. The building had been gutted and renovated not long ago. It was airy, clean and modern. There was recessed lighting. Polished parquet flooring. New wiring and plumbing, no doubt. Hell, I bet it even had an energy-efficient furnace that didn’t seize up three times a week. The sleek, Danish-y looking sofa and armchairs were upholstered in white leather. The dining table was an oval-shaped glass thingy surrounded by a set of eight Eames molded plywood chairs.
“Nice place,” I observed, noticing the carpeted stairs that led upstairs and down.
“You want the full basement-to-garret tour?”
“You rent the whole building?”
Sonya colored slightly. “Actually, I own it.”
“You own it?” I tried to sound calm. Really, I did. But a renovated townhouse on a prime West Village block was worth many millions.
“My father bought it for me as a present when I graduated from Wesleyan.”
“Nice present. I don’t mean to sound crass, Sonya, but are you rich?”
“Why, is that a problem?”
“No, not at all. I’m extremely open-minded. I just always figured your Uncle Al was—”
“A cheapie? A chiseler? A small-timer of a bookie who never has more than two nickels to scrape together? He totally is. But my father is Generation Next. He graduated from Harvard Business School and is in charge of operations for one of the gigantic Indian casinos in Uncasville, Connecticut. When I told him I wanted to teach school in the city he said okay, but he didn’t want me living in some rundown dump with clanky pipes. Know what I mean?”
“Only too well. And I would.”
“You would what, cookie?”
“Like the full tour.”
“Well, right now you’re looking at the living room and dining room, obviously,” she said, leading me toward the glass dining table.
“Sonya, is that cupboard in the wall over there what I think it is?”
She smiled at me. “Why, what do you think it is?”
“A dumbwaiter.”
“Don’t you just love it? It still works, too. I insisted we keep it when they renovated the place. I’ve always had a thing for dumbwaiters. Come on, I’ll show you the kitchen. But we’ll have to take the stairs. The dumbwaiter won’t hold both of us. Your mom is a real doll, by the way,” she chattered, her hips wiggling enticingly in those tight jeans as she led me downstairs. “And is she ever built. No wonder you’re still unattached. There isn’t a girl on the planet who can measure up.”
Sonya’s huge restaurant kitchen seemed to be constructed entirely out of stainless steel. Her six-burner Viking stove had an island unto itself. The dumbwaiter had a wall to itself. A breakfast table was situated before a set of French doors that led out to her floodlit patio and garden.
“Are you okay with Chianti Classico?” she asked, reaching for the open bottle that was breathing on the granite counter.
“More than okay.”
She poured two glasses and handed me one, her gaze grabbing hold of mine and not letting go. “I don’t mean to pry but I’d like to know a little more about what you do for a living. Your mom was really, really vague. ‘We help lawyers,’ was all I could get out of her. And now I find out you carry a loaded gun. Benji, you’re not some kind of baby-faced thug, are you?”
“No, nothing like that. I’m a private investigator.”
“Get out! You’re a private eye? How on earth did you?…”
“It’s the family business. My dad started the agency after he retired from the force. I worked for him as an operative while I was in school. Now I do it full time.”
“A real-life private eye. Benji, that is so exciting. Do you spy on cheating husbands?”
“Sometimes I even spy on cheating wives.”
“Can I come with you some time on a stakeout?”
I took a sip of my wine. “Why would you want to do that?”
“I teach kindergarten. I’m with five-year-olds all day. You have no idea how little excitement I have in my life. Don’t get me wrong. I love the little brats. But sometimes I feel like life is passing me by. I’m going to be twenty-eight in September. And the only guys I ever seem to meet are assholes and putzes.” She tilted her head at me curiously. “You must meet gorgeous women constantly in your line of work.”
“Not that many.”
“And you really don’t have anybody special in your life?”
“I really don’t, Sonya.”
“So who gave you that bunny bracelet?”
I glanced down at Sara’s bracelet on my wrist. “A very mixed-up seventeen-year-old girl who needs a friend.”
Sonya topped off our glasses. “Are you ready for the rest of the tour?”
“I’m ready. This is really good wine, by the way.”
“You like it? Daddy’s wholesaler sends it to me by the case.”
The entire third floor of Sonya’s brownstone was a plush master bedroom suite. She had a king-sized bed and a queen-sized dressing room with a walk-in closet paneled in cedar. Her bathroom had a Jacuzzi. On the top floor she had a guest bedroom and an office.
“Sonya, this place is amazing. I can’t believe you have it all to yourself.”
“Well, I’m hoping to share it with someone someday,” she confessed, leading me back downstairs to the living room. She sat on the sofa with her legs curled beneath her. I sat down next to her. “And not just any someone, Benji. The right someone. I want a husband. I want kids. I want a great big smoochy dog. I want the whole megillah.” She sipped her wine, eyeing me somewhat guardedly now over the rim of her glass. “I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. I don’t jump into bed with some guy who I’ve just met. I like to take things slow.”
“Good.”
She blinked at me in surprise. “Good?”
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t want to get involved with someone who doesn’t think that sex between two people is something really, really special.”
“Okay, I cannot believe you just said that.”
“Why, Sonya?”
“Because I’ve never heard those words come out of the mouth of any living creature who has a penis. You do have a?…”
“Yep. Fully equipped here.”
She took another sip of her wine, looking at me shyly. “I shouldn’t admit this, because it’s totally uncool, but I got a funny feeling when I met you in the basement of B’Nai Jacob this morning.”
“Funny ha-ha or funny weird?”
“Funny as in you’re someone who is going to become important to me.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Absolutely, Sonya. I felt the same exact way about you. Instantly. And now I’m the one who has to confess something.”
“You don’t have a penis?”
“No, no, I do. Trust me.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”
“That’s so sweet, cookie. Really?”
“Really.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. It’s never happened to me either.”
We clinked glasses on that, gazing into each other’s eyes.
I cleared my throat. “Are you a hungry old-fashioned girl?”
“Starved.”
“Good. Where would you like to eat?”
“I thought we could eat here. I love to cook. I was thinking linguine with white clam sauce. Are you okay with garlic?”
“I love garlic. You want to eat now or after?”
“After what, Benji?”
“After I tear that blouse off of you.”
She looked at me through her eyelashes. “Just the blouse?”
“It’s a start.”
“My, my. What happened to going slow?”
“Tr
ust me, Sonya, I am going slow. I didn’t jump you when I walked through your front door. Or when we were down in the kitchen. Or up in your bedroom. I’ve been really, really patient—considering that all I’ve wanted to do since I met you this morning is strip you naked and ravage you from head to toe.”
Sonya shook her head at me in disbelief. “Does your mother know you talk like this?”
“Who do you think taught me how to talk like this?”
She didn’t say anything to that. Just drank down the last of her wine and set her empty glass on the coffee table. Her hand trembled slightly, I noticed. And a vein was throbbing in her forehead. She sat back on the sofa and ran her hands through her shiny black hair, staring at me with an extremely dark, serious look on her lovely face.
“I apologize if I shocked you,” I said. “But when I see what I want I don’t know how to hold back. Plus I am so tired of being alone. I’ve never been so tired of anything in my whole life. But I really did mean what I said before. If you want to take it slow we’ll take it slow. It’s just that, well, in our case I don’t see the point, do you?”
In response, Sonya Posner unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it aside. Those stupendous girls of her were now staring me right in the face. “No, I don’t, Benji,” she said in a husky voice. “I don’t see any point at all.”
* * *
IT WAS 3:30 IN THE MORNING by the time I limped out of there—hobbled, bruised and covered with a million little bite marks and scratches. I would have been perfectly willing to spend what little was left of the night right there in Sonya’s bed, but Sonya thought I ought to go home. She was thinking of my mom.
“Abby will be wondering where you are,” she pointed out as we snuggled there together under the covers.
“No, she won’t. I guarantee you she’s fast asleep.”
“I guarantee you she’s not. The poor woman’s wide-awake at this very minute. And scared to death that something has happened to you.”
“Sonya, my mom doesn’t keep tabs on me.”
“Of course she does.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I’m a woman and I would, every minute of every day. I don’t want her hating me, Benji. Besides, I have school in the morning and if you stay over I won’t get any sleep. I’ll just try to start something with you again.”
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