by Nora Roberts
"I'm not saying I didn't play hardball, that's my job. Believe me, La Coeur was behind me all the way. Until things got sticky."
"Sounds like the way the Giambellis treated Tony."
"Exactly." Oh, he'd use that, use that and her innate hatred to turn his tide. "Don offered me inside information; I took it. Of course, the Giambellis can't have that stand, can't abide people knowing they were undermined by their own. So it has to be me, I have to have coerced or finagled or bribed, or God knows. I took what was offered. It's not like I held a gun to their heads."
He broke off. Squeezed her hand. "Jesus, Rene, I'm so sorry. What a stupid thing to say."
"It's all right. If Tony hadn't lied to me, hadn't cheated and snuck around with that little tramp who worked with Sophia, he'd still be alive today." And she wouldn't be damn near broke.
"Kris Drake." For effect, he pressed a hand to his brow. "I didn't know about her and Tony before I hired her. The idea that she might have had something to do with Tony's death…"
"If she did, she was still working for them. They're behind it. All of it."
Could she be more perfect? He only wished he'd thought of using Rene months before. "They've ruined my reputation. I guess I brought part of that on myself. I shouldn't have wanted to win so much."
"Winning's all there is."
He smiled at her. "And I'm a man who hates to lose. In anything. You know, when I first saw you, I didn't know you and Tony were an item, and I… Well, I never got the chance to compete there, so I suppose that doesn't qualify as losing. More wine?"
"Yes, thanks." She pursed her lips, considering how to play it while he reached over for the bottle. "I was swept away by Tony's charm," she began. "And I admired what I thought was his ambition. I'm very attracted to clever businessmen."
"Really? I used to be one," he said as he poured the wine.
"Now, Jerry, you're still a clever businessman. You'll land on your feet."
"I want to believe that. I'm thinking of moving to France. I have some offers there." Or would have, he thought grimly. Damn well would have. "Luckily I don't need the money. I can pick and choose, take my time. It might do me good to just travel awhile, enjoy the benefits of the years of hard work I've put in."
"I love traveling." She purred it.
"I don't feel I can leave until I've straightened all this out. Until I've dealt with the Giambellis, face-to-face. I'll be frank with you, Rene, because I think you'll understand. I want to pay them back for putting this smear on me."
"I do understand." In what could be taken for sympathy, or otherwise, she laid a hand over his heart. "They always treated me like something cheap that could be easily ignored." She worked tears into her eyes. "I hate them."
"Rene." He moved in slowly. "Maybe we can find a way to pay them back. For both of us."
Later, when she lay naked, her head pillowed on his shoulder, he smiled into the dark. Tony's widow was going to clear his path straight into the heart of the Giambellis. And he would rip it out.
It was going to be fun. Rene dressed carefully for the role she was about to play. Dark, conservative suit, minimal makeup. She and Jerry had worked it all out, just what she'd say, just how she'd behave. He'd made her rehearse countless times. The man was a little too demanding for her taste, but she figured she'd bring him around. If she kept him long enough.
For now he was useful, entertaining and a means to an end. And he, as most did, underestimated her. He didn't realize she knew he also considered her useful, entertaining and a means to an end.
But Rene Foxx was nobody's fool. Particularly no man's fool.
Jerry DeMorney was dirty up to the knot of his Hermes tie. If he hadn't called the shots in that whole product tampering business, she'd start wearing off-the-rack suits. Gave those rotten Giambellis a good kick in the ass with that one, she mused. As far as she was concerned, a man smart and devious enough to pull that off was just what she was looking for.
She decided walking into the homicide division with the box in her hands was her first step into a very lucrative tomorrow.
"I need to see Detective Claremont or Maguire," she began, then spotted Claremont just rising from behind his desk. "Oh, Detective." She was pleased she'd tagged him first. She always did better with men. "I have to see you. Right away. It's urgent. Please, is there somewhere—"
"Take it easy, Mrs. Avano." He took her arm. "How about some coffee?"
"Oh, I couldn't. I couldn't keep anything down. I've been up half the night."
She was focused on the job at hand and missed his quick signal to his partner.
"We'll talk in the coffee room. Why don't you tell me what's upset you?"
"Yes, I… Detective Maguire. It's good you're here, too. I'm so confused, so upset." She set the safe box on the table, pushed it to the center as if she wanted distance, then sat. "I was going through some of Tony's things, his papers. I hadn't gotten to all of them yet. I couldn't before. I found this box on the top shelf of his closet. I couldn't imagine what might be in it. I'd already had to deal with all the insurance papers, the legal papers." She fluttered her hands. "There was a key in his jewelry case. I remembered coming across it before, but not knowing what it was for. This," she said, gesturing. "It was for this. Open it. Please. I don't want to look through it again."
"Records," she said when Claremont opened the box and began to sift through the paperwork. "Ledgers or whatever they're called from that false account the Giambellis set up. Tony, he must've known. And that's why they had him killed. I know he must have been gathering this evidence. Trying to do the right thing, and… it cost him his life."
Claremont glanced through the accounts and correspondence, passing the sheets on to Maguire. "You believe your husband was killed over these papers."
"Yes, yes!" What was he, Rene thought impatiently, an idiot? "I'm afraid I might be partially responsible. I'm afraid of what might happen to me. I know someone's been watching me," she said, dropping her voice. "It sounds paranoid, I know, but I'm sure of it. I snuck out of my own apartment like a thief to come here. I think they've hired someone to watch me."
"Who would do that?"
"The Giambellis." She reached out, gripped Claremont's hand. "They're wondering if I remember, but I didn't, I didn't until I found this. And if they know, they'll kill me."
"That you know what?"
"That Sophia killed my Tony." Rene covered her mouth with her hand and sacrificed her makeup to tears.
"That's a serious accusation." Maguire rose to grab some tissues. "Why are you making it?"
Rene's breath hitched, her hand trembled as she reached for the tissues. "When I found these I remembered. I'd come home. It was so long ago, a year ago. Sophia was there. She and Tony were arguing upstairs. She was furious, and he was trying to calm her down. They didn't even know I'd come in. I went into the kitchen. I could still hear her. She was shouting as she does when she's in that terrible temper of hers. She said she wasn't going to stand for it. That it was none of his business. I didn't hear what he said, because his voice was low."
She dabbed at tears again. "Tony never raised his voice to her. He adored her. But she… she detested him, because of me. The Cardianili account—she said the name, but I didn't think of it again. The Cardianili account would be left alone, and that would be the end of it. If he did anything with the ledgers, she would make him pay. She said, very clearly: 'If you don't leave this alone, I'll kill you.' I came out of the kitchen then because it made me angry. Almost at the same time she came flying down the stairs. She saw me, said something vicious in Italian, then stormed out."
She released a shuddering breath, sniffled delicately. "When I asked Tony about it, I could see he was shaken, but he brushed it off, said it was business and she was just blowing off steam. I let it go. Sophia often blew off steam that way. I never thought she meant what she said. But she did. He knew she'd been involved in embezzlement, and she killed him for it."
"
So." Maguire tipped back her chair when she and her partner were alone. "You buy any of that?"
"For somebody who didn't sleep last night, she looked pretty alert. For somebody terrified and upset, she remembered to match her shoes to her purse and coordinate her hose."
"You're a real fashion cop, partner. No way she just came across these papers. She'd have been through every drawer, closet and cubbyhole within a day of his death, to make sure she had access to every penny."
"Maguire, I don't think you like the widow Avano."
"I don't like people who think I'm stupid. Question: If she had these papers all along, why turn them over now? If she didn't have them before, who passed them to her?"
"DeMorney's in San Francisco." Claremont tapped the tips of his fingers together. "Wonder how far he and the widow go back."
"One thing for certain, they've both got it in for the Giambellis, and that one wants to put the screws to Sophia G, and she wants it bad."
"Bad enough to give a false statement to the police."
"Oh hell, she enjoyed that. And she's smart enough to know she didn't say anything we could hook her on. We can't prove if and when she found those papers. And if it came down to it, the argument scene would be her word against Sophia's, who's likely to have argued with her father at some point during the last year of his life. No way to cook her on that even if we wanted to bother."
"Never made sense for her to marry Avano and kill him the day after. She doesn't gel there for me. Doesn't gain her anything, and she's in it for what she can get."
"If we bought this, she could cop a little revenge. That's what she's after now."
"Yeah, and so's DeMorney." Claremont rose. "Let's see how tight we can link them."
Chapter Thirty
Contents - Prev
Rene slithered onto the sofa beside Jerry and accepted the flute of champagne. "I got some very interesting information at the salon today."
"What might that be?"
"I'll tell you." She ran a fingertip down the center of his shirt. "But it'll cost you."
"Really?" He took her hand, lifted it to bite gently on her wrist.
"Oh, that's nice, too, but I want something a little different. Let's go out, lover. I'm so tired of staying in. Take me out to a club where there're people and music and wicked things going on."
"Honey, you know I'd love to. It's not smart for us to be seen together in public quite yet."
She pouted, nuzzled against him. "We'll go somewhere nobody knows us. And even if they do, Tony's been dead for months and months. No one expects me to grieve alone forever."
From the reports that had winged back across the Atlantic, Rene hadn't grieved alone for a week. "Just a little while longer. I'll make it up to you. When we're finished here with everything and everyone, we'll go to Paris. Now what did you find out today?"
"To borrow from that slut Kris's lexicon, bitch number three is giving bitch number two a little party on Friday night—wedding eve. All females. She's setting up a damn spa in the villa for the night. Facials, body treatments, massages, the works."
"And what will the men be doing while the women are getting themselves scrubbed and rubbed?"
"Watching porno flicks and jerking off, I suppose. They're holding their bachelor-night deal at the MacMillan place. The bride and groom aren't allowed to do the dirty the night before the wedding. Hypocrites."
"This is interesting." And exactly what he'd been waiting for. "We'll know just where everyone is. And the timing couldn't be better, right before the happy event. Rene, you're a jewel."
"I don't want to be one. I just want to have them."
"A week from now, we'll be in Paris, and I'll take care of that. But first, you and I have a date on Friday night at Villa Giambelli."
She wanted it to be perfect, the kind of night they'd all remember and laugh about for years. She'd planned it, organized it, fine-tuned the details right down to the scent of the candles for the aromatherapy treatments. In twenty-four hours, Sophia thought, her mother would be dressing for her wedding, but for her last evening as a single woman, she was going to bask in a world of females.
"When we have our products, maybe we should sell direct to spas for a while." Maddy sniffed at the oils already arranged by the massage table. "Make them, like, exclusive so people are dying for them."
"You're a clever girl, Madeline. But no business tonight. Tonight is for female ritual. We're the handmaidens."
"Do we get to talk about sex?"
"Of course. This isn't about exchanging recipes. Ah, there's the woman of the hour."
"Sophie." Already in her long white wrap, Pilar circled the pool house. "I can't believe you went to all this trouble."
Various stations were set up, with lounging sofas and salon chairs. The evening light shimmered toward sunset while scents from the gardens clung to the air. Tables held abundant platters of fruit and chocolate, bottles of wine and sparkling water, baskets and bowls of flowers.
Along the wall, water spilled down the brass sculpture and into the pool to add sensuous music.
"I was shooting for a Roman bath thing. Do you like it, really?"
"It's wonderful. I feel like a queen."
"When you're finished, you'll feel like a goddess. Where are the others? We're wasting pampering time."
"Upstairs. I'll get them."
"No, you won't. Maddy, pour Mama some wine. She's not to lift a finger except to pick up a chocolate strawberry. I'll get everyone."
"What kind do you want?" Maddy asked her.
"Just water for now, honey, thanks. It's such a lovely evening." She wandered toward the open doors, then laughed lightly. "Massage tables on the patio. Only Sophie."
"I never had a massage before."
"Mmm. You'll love it."
As she spoke, as she looked out over the garden, Pilar ran a hand absently over Maddy's hair, left it lying on her shoulder. The gesture made everything inside the girl go warm. And made her sigh.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Maddy passed Pilar the glass. "Nothing's wrong. I guess I'm looking forward to… everything."
"You're bluffing," David said around the cigar clamped in his teeth and tried to stare Eli down.
"Yeah? Put your money up, son, and call me."
"Go ahead, Dad." Theo had a cigar, unlit, in his teeth as well, and felt like a man. "No guts, no glory." David tossed chips in the pot. "Call. Show 'em."
"Three little deuces," Eli began and watched David's eyes gleam. "Standing watch over two pretty ladies."
"Son of a bitch."
"A Scotsman doesn't bluff over money, son." Eli, jubilant, raked in his chips.
"The man's scalped me so many times over the years, I wear a helmet when we sit down to cards." James gestured with his glass. "You'll learn."
Linc's head came up at the knock on the door. "Somebody ordered a stripper, right? I knew you guy's wouldn't let me down."
"It's the pizza." Theo leaped up.
"More pizza? Theo, you can't possibly want more pizza."
"Sure I can," he shouted over his shoulder to his father. "Ty said I could."
"I said he could order it for me. He inhaled the last order."
Linc sent Tyler a sorrowful look. "You couldn't arrange for a stripper to deliver the pizza?"
"They were all out of strippers. Shriners' convention."
"Likely story. Well, I hope he got pepperoni at least."
"My God, Sophie, this was a brilliant idea."
"Thanks, Aunt Helen." They sat side by side, tipped back with purifying masks thick and green covering their faces. "I wanted
