“Married to a queen,” I whispered. I snapped a picture of the series of photos on the wall too and then tiptoed back into the nursery and up to another photo, this time of Sunny standing on the porch of her old home overlooking L.A.
The view was the same one shown in the listing that I’d found by looking up Andrew Yamanski, Darius’s “real estate guy.”
There was no condo. There never had been. This was the house on the hill that Yelena had been referring to. Lover Number Two wasn’t Darius’s uncle. He was Darius.
And Darius was also Lover Number Twelve. He was the lover that Yelena had pretty much begun and ended her show on. His mother had dressed like a queen at her wedding. She was wealthy and powerful, and willing to leave a giant portion of her money to her grandson.
And, no doubt, with her financial support, Darius had been able to keep the house in L.A. as a love nest for himself and Yelena. “Phoning for donations wasn’t a political campaign reference. It was a reference to Darius calling his mother for money,” I said to myself.
I snapped a quick photo of the image on the wall. And then I noticed a small photo in a frame nestled on a table with a lamp. I hadn’t seen it before when I was here with Sunny, or I might’ve put things together sooner.
The photo was of the two of them, Darius and Sunny, taken in the early days of their relationship. Sunny was stunning, and she looked about twenty, as did Darius, but his hair was longer, his face thinner than it was now, and he resembled his daughter so much that there was no mistaking that he was Tiffany’s birth father.
And Tiffany had been the fly in the ointment. I was certain that Yelena not only would’ve told Tiffany that she was her real mother but also would’ve given her the identity of her father.
And that was why, in her drug-induced subconscious state, Sunny had left her home after getting a call from her “dear” friend. Yelena had called to tell her that she and Darius had a daughter. The very woman babysitting her child.
Of course, Sunny would’ve translated that as a threat to her son. Finley stood to inherit a sizeable portion of his grandmother’s money, but if the queen living in Singapore knew she also had a far older granddaughter, she could revise the terms of her will and switch the financial assets to Tiffany, which would no doubt be somewhat controlled by Yelena.
Darius must’ve known that his mother would make him her executor, giving him full control over her finances until Finley turned of age. He’d have a lot less money to be in control of if his mother recognized her granddaughter as family, since Tiffany was already of age.
That was why he’d killed Purdy. He’d been trying to pay off Yelena with the estate lawyer he’d hired through his shell corp and assigning him the task of delivering two hundred thousand dollars to her.
But Yelena had called him and told him of her plans. She’d called him on a phone registered to Sunny, because Sunny had opened up a family plan for the two of them. I’d checked the number on my one text from Darius when the three of us split up to go find Sunny. His subscriber number was 3838, the same subscriber number that Marcus had told me was in Sunny’s plan.
And recalling the night Darius had sent me the text, it wasn’t lost on me that he’d purposely pointed us toward the park, knowing we would likely find Sunny dead.
And the park was only two and a half miles from the theater. An easy run for a man in Darius’s physical condition.
The clue had come from my son’s duffel bag. The night of the murders, when Darius had gotten out of his car, he’d smelled terrible. Just as terrible as Matt’s clothing when I’d opened up the duffel. I knew now that Darius’s other clothes had been covered in blood, but he had had his duffel in the car and had changed into his dirty workout gear to hide his bloody clothing.
As I stood in Finley’s nursery, I saw the murders unfold in my mind’s eye like a movie: Yelena calls Darius and tells him of her plans to reveal his name during her performance that evening and alerts him to the fact that his wife’s dear friends will be sitting front row center.
Panicked, Darius tries to buy her off with the two hundred grand. She accepts the terms, and he catches the first flight home from L.A. He then makes a withdrawal from his trust fund—which wouldn’t have Sunny’s name on it—for the two hundred Gs. He then goes shopping and buys the raincoat and personally packs it with the money before dropping it off to Purdy so that the elderly man can take it to Yelena. He then calls Sunny, and in that conversation, Sunny admits to taking some Ambien, but she also lets him know that Tiffany is there with Finley.
Darius goes about his day, hiding from anyone who might recognize him, and just before he’s set to go home, he gets a call from Yelena. She tells him the deal is off, and she’s already told Sunny everything. She demands that he introduce his daughter to his mother, or she’ll do it herself.
Furious, Darius hangs up on Yelena and frantically tries to reach Sunny. She has already gone to the theater and has left her phone behind. When she doesn’t answer, Darius assumes she believes Yelena, so he goes to the theater to get his revenge.
He plans on sneaking in and waiting for her in her dressing room, but when he gets there, he finds Sunny is already waiting. Maybe she’s still loopy, or maybe she’s out of it, and Darius thinks he has a good chance of getting her out of the theater and convincing her, should she remember anything, that it was all an Ambien dream.
As he’s pulling Sunny along out of the dressing room, Yelena appears backstage and is enraged to see both of them there. She and Darius get into a physical fight. He grabs the nearest weapon he can find, which is Aaron’s letter opener, and he stabs Yelena.
Sunny becomes lucid enough to try to get between the pair, but she manages only to smear blood on herself as Yelena collapses.
As he throws away the letter opener, Darius grabs Sunny’s hand—they’ve got to get out of there—but as they’re leaving through the exit door, covered in blood, they literally bump into Purdy, smearing his hand with Yelena’s blood.
Putting two and two together, Purdy realizes that Darius has killed Yelena, and he makes a run for it.
Darius quickly moves Sunny to his car, grabs the guitar wire, and chases after Purdy, but he can’t catch up before Purdy ducks into the coffee shop.
Darius sees him through the window, lit up from the lights inside, and he watches him move to the back of the shop. That’s when Darius rushes to the alley to wait and see which way Purdy will go.
After washing off the blood in the restroom, Purdy goes out the back way, and Darius, hiding in the shadows, jumps out and wraps the guitar wire around Purdy’s neck and kills him. He then shoves Purdy’s body into the crevice between the wall and the stack of pallets. But he doesn’t have time to grab the cash, because he has to get back to his wife, and so he rushes back to his car.
She’s in the car and a little out of it, but she’s also now a probable witness to murder, so Darius drives her to her car. Maybe it’s parked down the street, or maybe in the parking garage, but he finds it and places Sunny in the car, grabs his gym duffel from his own car, and heads toward home, but not before he coaxes Sunny to take a few more Ambien.
When he gets home, he probably didn’t park in the driveway, but at the curb down the street from the house. Darius then sneaks over to the house and uses the outdoor shower to rinse off and change into the workout clothes he has in his duffel bag. He shoves his bloody clothes into the duffel and heads back to the car to remove Sunny’s bloody clothes and shoes. Taking these with him he returns to the house, this time sneaking around to the back and looking in the well-lit windows to see where Tiffany is. He spots her on the treadmill, so he sneaks inside through the garage, hurries down the hallway and into the laundry room. There he rummages through the laundry basket for some clothes for him and Sunny, but he can’t find any clothes that don’t stink for himself because he’s been gone for a month and Sunny would’ve done his laundry weeks earlier, so he’s stuck wearing what he’s already changed into.
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He can’t stay long inside the house, lest Tiffany discover him, so he shoves Sunny’s bloody clothes and her shoes to the bottom of the laundry basket and takes whatever’s on top for her to change into.
Once he’s back at the car, he coaxes Sunny to the outdoor shower and rinses her off, getting his clothing wet in the process. What I had mistaken for sweat was actually the water from the shower. And it’s also the reason Sunny’s hair was damp and she was barefoot when Gilley and I found her in her Range Rover at the park.
Once Darius has got Sunny rinsed off and changed, he takes her back to the car and drives her to the park. After he’s got them parked in a spot at the end of the lot, he forces Sunny to take all the rest of the Ambien with the bottle of water that he takes with him from the supplies in the garage. Then he places the empty pill bottle in Sunny’s hand, removes the water bottle with his fingerprints on it and leaves the key fob in the car, but he can’t lock it that way, because the car won’t let you lock the doors if the engine is off and the key is inside the car. So he takes the key fob with him, shuts the door, locks the car from the outside, and jogs back to his own car, parked somewhere near the theater.
On the drive home he plans on sending Tiffany away, before waiting until perhaps the next day for the call that tells him that his wife has committed suicide in her car parked downtown.
But Gilley and I are already in his driveway when he shows up, spoiling his plans.
Seeing another angle that will push any suspicion away from him, he sends us to the park, knowing that’s exactly where he’s left Sunny’s car. He knows we’re the ones that will find her dead body, and he can then play the role of grieving husband.
Complicating things is the fact that Sunny is not dead when we find her, so Darius holds his breath until he can privately question her about any memories she might remember of that evening. Maybe she confesses to a terrible dream, or maybe she doesn’t, but Darius is prepared for any memory that might bubble up by playing up her depression to her doctors. Which is what keeps her so long inside that mental health facility.
Darius thinks he’s totally in the clear when Sunny arrives home, as another man has already been charged in Yelena’s murder, but then Sunny discovers the bloody clothes at the bottom of the laundry basket which he has forgotten all about until she presents them to him.
Darius tries to talk Sunny out of confessing, if only to keep the suspicion as far away from him as possible, but Sunny cannot let an innocent man go to jail when she believes she murdered Yelena. So she sneaks away from Darius long enough to drive to my house with the bloody clothes, where she confesses to her brother in front of a large crowd.
Darius must be relieved when he learns the case against Sunny is so solid. He’s happy to let her take the blame, all the while playing the role of distraught husband and devoted father perfectly.
While he’s thinking about what to do next, Marcus keeps him informed of all the details in the case, which is why, after Marcus calls him yesterday to ask him to come along for the interview with Sunny so that she can explain the two phone numbers associated with her name, Darius knows he has to take care of Marcus first, to slow down the case, and he has to make a run for it—with Finley and probably to Singapore—because the walls are closing in.
I snapped a picture of the framed photo. “And so they are,” I whispered.
Downstairs I found Darius in the kitchen, already eating a piece of lasagna.
“Sorry,” he said through a big bite of warm pasta. Chewing quickly, he added, “It’s so good!”
I laughed, waving my hand nonchalantly. “No, please, eat away!”
Darius took another huge bite and pointed to the casserole dish and looked at me, as if asking me if I wanted a bite.
“I’m fine. I just ate lunch,” I lied. Switching topics, I said, “I folded up all the clothes on the floor of the nursery and set them in piles.”
I hadn’t, but it was a good excuse to explain why I’d taken so long upstairs.
“Thanks,” he said. “Taking care of a toddler is hard work.”
“Don’t I know it,” I said. “I raised twin boys, although I had help. I can only imagine how much more difficult it must be for you now that Tiffany can’t babysit.”
Darius eyed me carefully but said nothing. I had no doubt that he hadn’t heard about Tiffany’s fall and broken foot.
“I really hope her foot and ankle heal up quickly,” I said into the awkward silence. “That was quite a spill she took, and her ankle and foot swelled up so fast.”
Darius’s expression relaxed. “Yeah, tough break for that kid.”
I pretended to look around the kitchen for another topic and then said, “Say, what happened to Sunny’s car?”
Again, that quizzical, careful expression returned to his features. “Her car?”
“Yeah. You know, her Range Rover. It’s not in the garage.”
Darius was sweating a little, and his face was a little flushed. “The rumors are true,” he said, pushing a playful smile to his lips. “Those cars spend more time in the shop than they do on the road.”
I knew there was absolutely no chance Sunny’s car was in “the shop.” It was someplace hidden. Like a junkyard. The police were, after all, looking for the car that’d hit Marcus’s and might still have some of the car paint from Sunnys’s car on the fender.
“Ahh,” I said. “Yeah, I told Sunny that model had a terrible maintenance record, but there was no talking her out of it.”
“She wanted one bad,” he said. “I wanted her to get a Mercedes.”
“You love yours, huh?”
“I do.”
“Good,” I said. “Oh, and did you sell your condo yet?”
Belatedly, I realized that I’d probably asked one question too many, because Darius’s look turned from playful to suspicious. It was subtle, but it was definitely there.
“Not yet,” he said, setting down his plate. His eyes flickered to the knife block across the kitchen. It was a very quick movement, but I saw it.
I was about to announce that I had to dash when my phone rang. Relieved beyond measure, I snatched the phone out of my purse and opened up the screen. After placing it to my ear, I said, “Shepherd! What a coincidence that you’d call right when I was chatting with your brother-in-law!”
“What?” Gilley said. “Cat, it’s me!”
I laughed loudly and winked at Darius. “No, he’s taking wonderful care of Finley, not to worry. The tyke is upstairs in his crib, and we’re down here in the kitchen, chatting while Darius has some of Gilley’s lasagna.” I wanted to let someone know where we were should I need the cops to break in and rescue me.
“What the heck are you talking about?!” Gilley shouted.
“Of course I’ll save you a piece, lovey. What time will you be home from all that detecting you’re doing?”
There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the call, and then Gilley said, “Are you in trouble?”
“Yes, yes, I am. I’m looking forward to it too.”
Gilley sucked in a breath.
Across from me, Darius stared at me with narrowed eyes. I might’ve been trying too hard to appear casual. “Let me talk to him,” Darius said softly, holding his hand out for the phone.
I couldn’t help my immediate reaction, which was to widen my eyes in fear. Recovering quickly, however, I said, “Hold on, Shep. Darius wants to talk to you.”
Before I handed over the phone, I pressed my thumb on the END button. The phone made a small beeping sound, and I pulled my hand back in surprise. “Oh, no,” I said. “He must’ve hung up.”
Darius crossed his arms. “Show me your list of recent calls, Catherine.”
I could feel the blood draining from my face. I knew he knew that I hadn’t been talking to his brother-in-law.
“Why?” I asked.
“To prove that it was him on the line.”
“You think it wasn’t him, Darius?”
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��I do.”
“Well, that’s not very nice. In fact, it’s downright rude! And here we made you such a delicious feast.” I settled my purse on my arm and took two steps toward the front door. Darius took three. He was bigger, stronger, and faster than me, and I knew he could get to the door before I even made it out of the kitchen.
Feeling a panic settling in, I couldn’t think of what to do! And then my phone rang, and I gasped both in surprise and relief. “Oh, look!” I said, swiveling the face of the phone toward him. “See? It’s him calling back.”
I had punched the green TALK button, ready to clue Shepherd in, when Darius snatched the gadget from my hands.
Before I could even recover from the shockingly fast move, Darius took my phone and slammed it facedown into a corner of the kitchen island.
It broke apart into at least a dozen pieces. Then I watched in abject terror as Darius reached for me. I ducked and spun and managed to twist my way toward the hallway leading to the front door, trying to move as fast as my feet could possibly go as I made a break for it.
I had gotten only a few feet when Darius’s hand clamped down on my shoulder and pulled me back right off my feet.
My head hit the wood floor with a loud whack, and my vision darkened to gray, with lots of sparkles. Putting my hands up in front of my face protectively, I did my absolute best to remain conscious, but that was about all I could manage.
I then felt cruel hands grip my shoulders, lift me off the floor, and place me on my feet. I wobbled and felt my knees weakening, but Darius kept me upright while he pulled me forward.
My vision was still blurred, though some of the darkness had lessened.
I tried to form words, but all I could get out was a low moan.
Still, Darius pulled me forward. Suddenly the light was too bright, and I brought my arms up to shield my eyes. Darius responded by shoving me hard. I would’ve fallen flat on my face if he wasn’t holding tight to my arm.
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