“Some of the time, yes,” I said, plastering on a smile. The way Kate was staring was off-putting. “So, does your firm … do you and Gus work with the Cunninghams?”
“Only when our clients have business with them. I wish we had more direct contact. Since we’re working with the Whitehalls, Gus won’t let us work for Jerry and Mimi. Conflict of interest. Or so he says. He can be such a stickler sometimes.”
I realized that Kate had used the opposite of my eat-and-then-drink approach, and perhaps hadn’t bothered with eating at all. She seemed to be a little drunk. One glass of wine and a very warm room and I was feeling the effects of the alcohol myself. But I knew when to switch to water. Kate grabbed another wine glass from the waiter’s tray as he passed and took a healthy swig.
“Tell me, Sully, has Gus always been so strident about rules?”
Was Kate always this gregarious?
I thought for a moment before I replied. “Yes, I guess he has been.” So was I, back when I was a cop. But I wasn’t going to share that insight with Kate. “That’s why I was surprised when Gus went into private practice. Working in criminal law, on both sides of the aisle, suited him. I thought he’d even run for District Attorney one day.”
“Yeah, his old superhero complex. Well, maybe he feels the same way today. Hell, all of our clients need to pass a morality test. It’s exhausting. And ridiculously limiting. Ah well. In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess. He’s quite the combination of looks, charm, brains, and money. Plus he’s pretty good in the sack.” Kate smiled sweetly, and I did everything I could to keep my face neutral. Unfortunately, I couldn’t control the blush that rose up on my neck.
“Sully, glad to find you,” Emma said, inserting herself between Kate and me. “What say we bid goodbye to the Cunninghams and get out of here? It’s getting crowded, too crowded.”
“Sounds good to me—”
“Where’s Gus?” Kate broke in.
“Gus? I think he left with Babs. Not my turn to mind him, Kate. You should pay more attention.”
Kate turned and harrumphed away. “Nice to meet you,” I called after her.
“Liar,” Emma whispered.
“Shut up,” I said. I looked around but didn’t see Jerry Cunningham anywhere. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Well, that little scene with Babs sure broke up the party, didn’t it?” Emma asked while we were putting on our coats.
“It really did. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to the Cunninghams—”
“For the best. They weren’t in the best frame of mind after that,” Emma said. “I saw Hal say something to them before he left, probably tried to apologize, but they blew him off. I’ll call them tomorrow, see if we can all meet for a drink this week.”
“Emma, you don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Besides, it will give me a chance to smooth things over. Jerry and Mimi seem to understand why we’re stepping away from the Century Project work, but I want to make sure.” We stepped out of the front of the University Club. “Wow, is it cold.”
“And icy. Be careful,” I said. “You mentioned that stepping away was Gus’s idea? Do you know what spurred him on?”
“Gus plays it pretty close to the vest, but he’s been carefully going through our business records since Dad died. He’s also been trying to track what Terry was in charge of, since that tends to be shadier.”
I noticed that Emma’s tone changed when she referred to her late husband. It was the family business that had kept their marriage together for so long, and it must have really rankled her that Terry’s deals could be tainted on top of everything else.
“Did Gus give you any examples of what he’s worried about?” I asked.
“No, he wants to make sure he’s got all the information straight. But he was pretty firm in his recommendation that we step back from a number of deals, most of which were with the Cunningham Corporation. Tell you what—I’m not going to worry about it tonight. How about if we walk down to the cross street and try to hail a cab home?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said. “These boots were not made for walking, at least not on ice.” As if to demonstrate, I slipped on the ice a bit and Emma caught me by the elbow. We linked arms and slowed down a bit.
“Meeting Kate must have been interesting,” she said as we made our way over icy sidewalks.
“She made Gus sound like some kind of Boy Scout,” I said. “Right before telling me he was pretty good in the sack.”
Emma stopped short, almost making me collide with her. “She said what?”
I told her about the conversation I’d had with Kate. “I think she was a little tipsy.”
“More than a little, I think. We went out before the reception and she slammed back a couple of vodkas.”
“No food?”
“No food. She doesn’t eat. She only drinks clear liquids, mostly vodka.” Emma shook her head. “Gus insists she has a great legal mind, and I agree. She’s pretty sharp. But still, I don’t know what he’s thinking. Sorry, Sully. Is this weird?”
“A little, yes. I didn’t know anything about Gus’s life for so long, so catching up with it is odd. Especially since it really isn’t my business, you know?”
“But you still care. Don’t bother to deny it. I can see it when you look at him.”
I didn’t bother to deny it, or to say anything. We walked another block and then stood at the corner of Commonwealth Avenue and Arlington Street, across the street from the Boston Public Garden. There wasn’t a cab in sight, and it was cold.
“I don’t have one of those apps on my phone,” I said. “How about if we cut through the Public Garden and head back?” I hit the walk sign, then looked over at Emma as she backed up a bit.
“What’s the matter, Emma?”
“Rats.”
“Rats?”
“Last time I walked through the Public Garden at night there were a ton of rats running around. I guess they come out in the dark.”
“They do.” I didn’t love rats, but I’d gotten used to them over the years. I’d worked a lot of cases at night back in the day. Rats were part of the city. “Would you rather we walk around it? I’m freezing and I need to keep moving.”
“I don’t even like walking on the sidewalk next to it. Tell you what, how about if we head right instead of left and go to the Bristol for a burger, and then cab it home?”
“Twist my arm,” I said. The Four Seasons was one of the city’s best hotels, with rooms overlooking the Boston Common. The Bristol Lounge was on the ground floor, and besides being a very nice, comfortable bar, it had great drinks and even better burgers.
Spending time with Emma was more fun than I’d expected. We hadn’t spent a lot of time together since I’d moved back to Trevorton, and little of that time had been stress-free. I could tell the events of the past few months had taken their toll, but she looked better than she had before, and actually laughed when I told her about Dimitri’s set for Romeo and Juliet.
“Well, Babs didn’t seem too worried about it tonight, did she?” Emma asked. We were seated in gloriously overstuffed chairs at an intimate, marble-topped table that was full of plates and glasses. We were near the fireplace, and I felt warmer than I had in days.
“She was a very different woman than the one I saw at the theater earlier,” I said.
“It seems official that she’s quitting the Bay Rep this summer. She talked about posting the job after Romeo and Juliet opens. I wonder why she’s been so close-mouthed about the move,” Emma said.
“Given the way the production is going, she probably wanted to right the ship before she left. Is Hal going with her? It was hard to tell if they were together or not,” I said.
“He indicated they were still together when we had our meeting, so I’m confused. Hal’s crazy about Babs.
She’s his second wife, broke up his first marriage, did you know that? I think he’d do anything for her.”
“Sounds nice,” I said. “Having someone willing to move mountains for you.”
“Does it really?” Emma asked. “I used to think it would be, but now I imagine it would be suffocating. I envy what Mimi and Jerry have. It isn’t perfect, but they’re devoted partners.”
“They do seem like quite a team. Can any marriage be that good?”
“Boy, are you cynical,” Emma said. “I think they’re the real deal. Dedicated to each other and to their businesses. No one gets in the way of that. Ever.”
I thought about that kind of love, and envied it a little. Our burgers arrived at that moment, so we took the opportunity to change the subject and move on to small talk.
“What makes these burgers so good?” she asked.
“We probably don’t want to know. My father made great burgers—you know what his secret was? A frozen pad of butter in the middle.”
“Wow.”
“Wow is right. I dream of those burgers. What’s great about these are that the fries are also good. Not as good as the Beef & Ale’s, but good.”
“You’re a Beef & Ale aficionado, aren’t you?”
“I am,” I said. “My home away from home. Besides, cooking has never been my forte. I’m more than happy to have other folks do it for me.”
Emma laughed. “I never had to cook, but since I’ve been living alone, I’ve taken it up. I actually enjoy it.”
“Well, if that sauce you made last night is any indication, you’re good at it.”
“The sauce is one of the things I cook well. I’m working on building up my repertoire.”
“Happily, sauce is versatile,” I said.
“Good thing, since I make vats of it. Do you want another drink?”
“No thanks. I’d forgotten that the martinis here are served in fishbowls.”
“I know, but they’re also delicious. Ready to go?” Emma waved the waiter over and asked for our check. She paid the bill and we started gathering our winter belongings together.
I find winter, especially February, to be exhausting. All the layers of clothes, the ice and sludge, the darkness and the cold. Just exhausting. Add to that my very full day, and I was done in. I wasn’t about to fight Emma about taking a cab the few short blocks back to the townhouse.
As I wrapped my scarf around my neck, I saw a blue-and-white pull up across the street and two officers get out and go into the Public Garden. An ambulance came up right afterward, and another police car arrived after that.
“Someone must have fallen on the ice,” Emma said. “Or maybe the rats attacked.”
I shuddered a little even though we were still inside the bar. We went outside under the heat lamps while the doorman called us a cab. That many police cars, and that hum of activity? It wasn’t a slip and fall.
A gust of wind came up, and woke me out of my revery. I was curious about what had happened, but it was no longer my business.
• Seven •
Max was the only one home when I got there. I gave him a little more dry food and finished putting away the few things I’d brought that afternoon. I put the bag of coffee I’d bought right next to the coffeemaker. I took out my shopping list and added to it. Harry had little aside from protein powder and crackers in the cupboards. No junk food whatsoever. That would not do, not if I was going to stay here for a few more days.
I went to bed, intending to add a new note about the evening, but sleep thwarted me. At some point I must have taken off my glasses and turned off the light. Or Harry did it for me. The next thing I knew it was seven o’clock in the morning and Max was standing on my chest, requesting his breakfast. I pushed him off and spent a moment acclimating myself to the room before stumbling into the bathroom.
My room was on the alley side of the building, which meant that buildings blocked the low sun this early. One of the downsides of living on a hill. On the other hand, I couldn’t see into other people’s windows since the floors were staggered. I leaned forward. Change that. You couldn’t see unless you tried. I made a mental note that I needed to close my blinds tonight.
I went to the kitchen and put on the coffee. I fired up my laptop. While it was booting up, I reached into my purse and took out the bottle of Advil. Burger or no, two glasses of wine and a martini took their toll. My father had always warned me not to mix the grape and the grain. I should have taken heed.
I opened up Boston.com and almost did a spit take when I saw the “breaking news” headline: “Identity of Public Garden murder victim rumored to be Mimi Cunningham. Press conference to be held soon.”
Wait—what? Mimi Cunningham? A murder victim? I’d just seen her. Was that what the police car went in for? I shook the cobwebs out of my head and read the entire story. Not that there was much. Just a series of bulletins. Body discovered. White, middle-aged. Robbery suspected. Strangled. Identity pending informing next of kin.
Robbery and strangulation? Not likely, I thought. At least not in that order. Strangulation was a crime of passion. And hard to do. Overkill for a robbery. It left trace evidence. No, at night, in a park, a robbery would have been simply a bash and grab. Not to say that a victim couldn’t end up dead, but still.
Death is always hard; murder just made it infinitely harder. Of course, I was making leaps. Educated leaps, but leaps nonetheless. Maybe it was an accident? Perhaps Mimi’s scarf or necklace got caught in the robber’s bike as he road away? If the robber had a bike. Or maybe he tried to grab her necklace and she got strangled in the process? I shook my head. The ghost of Isadora Duncan wasn’t likely to show up here.
I was doing a Google search for any other information when I heard my cell phone ring. I went over to my coat and found it in my pocket. Down to twenty-five percent. I’d forgotten to charge it last night. Now where had I put the charger?
“Sully, did you hear about Mimi?” Emma asked as soon as I answered the phone.
“Reading about it on the web as we speak.”
“Coffee made?”
“Of course.”
“I’m on my way down.”
She must have been on her way the minute I picked up, because a second later she was at the door. I hurried into my room and grabbed a fleece to put over my pajamas. I also checked to make sure Harry’s door was tightly shut before I let her in. Emma had on yoga pants and a T-shirt, with a light jacket on top. She was wearing fleece slippers and had brought a coffee cake with her. Bless her.
“I was on the treadmill and had the TV on, and heard the news.” She went into the kitchen and helped herself to a cup of coffee while I dished up the cake. “Can you believe it?”
“Remember when we were leaving the bar? The police cars? I thought something must be up, but I had no idea.”
“That means it must have happened right around when we were having dinner.” Emma shuddered. “How horrible.”
“It really is.” I was more concerned for Emma than anything. She’d been through so much in the past few months. But another murder? Too much for most to take. Emma was of tough Yankee stock, but still.
“Should we tell someone? About the timing?” she asked.
“I’m sure they’ll be checking guest lists at nearby restaurants and will be in touch. I’m not even sure who we would talk to.” That was a bit of a lie. I hadn’t left the police department on the best of terms, and I didn’t relish the idea of contacting old friends turned foes. “Tell you what, give Gus a call. He can reach out to them.”
“Great idea.” She took out her phone and hit one of the speed dial buttons.
“I hope you don’t wake up Kate,” I said.
Emma made a face and spoke into the phone. “Gus, it’s Emma. Did you hear about Mimi? I think we should go to the police, don’t you think? Help however we can? Get a
head of this. Call me.”
“Get ahead of what, Emma?”
“Sully, another murder? And I’m close by? Again? It’s only a matter of time before the press catches on and starts chasing me.”
“You were with me at the Bristol. The whole time.”
“Doesn’t matter. The press is going to eat this up. And now is not the time.” She sipped her coffee and sighed. “Sorry, I know that sounds harsh. But you know what it was like over the holidays. And there we were protected by the gates at the house. Here we’re out in the open.”
“You could head back up to Trevorton,” I said, though I didn’t think it was a good idea to leave town. “Maybe Gus could suggest a PR firm to help? Or Hal could? Though Hal will be pretty upset, I’d imagine—”
“Sully, you’re a brick, you know that?” That was a phrase my mother had used as well. It meant strong, steady, and immovable. It also meant thick, but I deferred to context. “Does anything ever freak you out?”
“A lot freaks me out, but panic serves no purpose. And this doesn’t come close to freaking me out. I don’t know much about managing the press, but it seems to me that you’d only be a story for half a second. The Cunninghams have enough of their own story going on to keep the spotlight. Right?”
“Right. Right.” But she didn’t sound convinced, and as if to emphasize the point she hit redial. “Gus? Call me.” She hung up and dialed another number. “Kate, it’s Emma Whitehall. Call me when you get this.” She hung up again and started to fidget. She started sending what I assumed were follow-up texts. “Would you mind if I check my email on your computer? So much easier than on my phone and I’m too lazy to go upstairs.”
“Sure, of course.” I turned the computer toward her. While Emma clicked away, I went back in my room and found my charger and my notebook. I brought them both back to the kitchen, and plugged my phone in. I sat down with my book and started to write down notes.
“What are you writing, Sully?”
“Notes from last night, while they’re still somewhat fresh. Just in case. Old habit, but you’d be surprised what details you forget, and how quickly.”
With a Kiss I Die Page 9
