Neighbors and More (High Rise Series)

by Mona Risk

  “He said he was moving. I heard it loud and clear. Don’t tell me you, too, believe Carter now?”

  “I’m just trying to make sense of all that. Why would Carter so blatantly lie?”

  “He hates me.”

  “Why?” The sorrow in her confused eyes tightened his gut. There should be a rational reason, some lead he’d missed so far.

  “He’d invited me out two years ago. I refused. I was still in shock after my divorce. He tried later, to no avail. I couldn’t get myself to trust any man. He tried to kiss me and I got upset. He didn’t insist, but he’s avoided me ever since.”

  “Does he have a girlfriend now?”

  “I don’t think so. He dated Dianna for a year, then she dumped him for Greg.”

  Dante couldn’t suppress a scoff. “This building is like a dating agency. Who else is dating whom?” He sobered at Alexa’s pained look. “Sorry, Alexa.” How could he forget for even a second that this was no fun time for her?

  Locked behind closed doors with the detective, Carter had personal reasons to denigrate her. Twice a rejected suitor, he certainly didn’t keep her high on his list of good friends. Would Ladd believe him?

  Definitely. Dante took one look at Ladd when he strode toward them. Yes, the detective had defected from their camp to the enemy.

  “Mrs. Partson, let’s go to your apartment. We need to talk.”

  Just talk? His tone of voice suggested he was ready to slice Alexa with questions, shred her story to pieces, and drive a spear through her heart.

  She sighed, but stood, her chin high. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  ****

  Dante grasped Alexa’s hand and squeezed her fingers to reassure her. They were icy and limp. Where was her bravado of a moment ago? They rode the elevator in silence and walked to her apartment. She took her key from her beach bag, opened the door, and entered without a backward glance.

  “Have a seat, please.” Always the gracious hostess, she indicated the sofa and chairs, settled herself, and crossed her legs. Dante dropped beside her on the sofa.

  Ladd remained standing, towering above them.

  “Well, you can go ahead. Ask your questions,” she said, her tone impatient.

  “Mrs. Partson, have you accepted Steve’s proposal of marriage?” Ladd’s head and neck jutted toward her, reminding Dante of the pelican that suddenly dove into the ocean to catch a prey.

  “I’ve already told you I didn’t. I slammed the door in his face.”

  “Are you sure? Think carefully. Try to remember.”

  Alexa uncrossed her legs and lurched off the sofa to be at eye level with the detective. “Yes, I am sure. One hundred percent certain. Why do you keep asking?”

  Ladd glared at her. “Do you drink a lot? Often?”

  She gasped. “No, I don’t drink often. Only when someone insists I share a drink. I never drink when alone and I never drink more than a couple of glasses.”

  Dante gritted his teeth, guessing the detective’s line of questioning. Jerk.

  “So you can say that your mind was completely clear when Bairey visited on both days?” Ladd pinned her with a sharp gaze.

  “Yes.”

  “You knew exactly what you were doing? Right?”

  Her mouth opened and closed. She glanced at Dante.

  “Alexa said she was sober. Why do you keep insisting on that point?” Dante asked.

  Ladd kept studying her. “Her statement is so different from her neighbors’ that I’m wondering if there is a reason we may have missed.”

  “How different?”

  “For instance, you heard Carter Morton saying that he and Steve were not moving to Atlanta. I called Mrs. Julia Bairey. Her husband never talked to her about Atlanta.”

  Dante crossed his arms on his chest and gestured to Alexa to let him handle it. “Steve and Julia were practically divorced. He wouldn’t confide in her.”

  The detective’s lips twitching to one side indicated he didn’t swallow that bit of good sense. “There is more. Morton said that Bairey confided he and Alexa were getting married soon.”

  “He’s lying.” Alexa flung her arms up and down against her sides. The nightmare was deepening. Ladd thought she’d plotted a complicated plan to kill Steve. She wasn’t capable of killing a fly. How could she convince them she didn’t put anything in Steve’s drink? It was he who’d spiked her drink in a previous visit. But if she mentioned that, Ladd might think she’d tried to retaliate.

  “Why did you accept Steve’s ring?” The detective’s voice sounded like a metallic clank.

  “Damn it. I didn’t.”

  “I would like to search your apartment.”

  “But—” Alexa started.

  Dante interrupted by raising a hand. “You have no right to do it without a search warrant.”

  “Here it is.” Detective Ladd shoved his hand into his pocket and extracted a folded paper. “A man is dead. As a lawyer, Mr. Cantari, you’ll understand justice must be done.”

  “Go ahead, search,” Alexa shouted. Oh God, I’m losing my mind. “I have nothing to hide,” she added, her tone more subdued as she struggled to control her shaking.

  Ladd opened his briefcase, extracted several items he dumped into his pocket, and donned a pair of latex gloves. “I will start with the bathrooms, then the bedrooms, and later the kitchen.”

  “Can we come with you?” Dante asked.

  “Yes, as long as you don’t touch anything. I may have more questions as I look around.”

  They followed him to the bathroom and stood at the door while he opened the medicine cabinet, unfolded a plastic bag he had in his pocket and threw in it all the bottles and vials. He looked into the wooden cabinet under the sink, read the labels on hairsprays and lotions, peered behind the toilet bowl, and unfolded the neatly arranged towels in the bathroom closet. Moving to the powder room, he repeated his search.

  “Off to the bedroom.” He walked straight to her dresser and pulled the three top drawers. She stiffened as he fumbled through her perfumes, scarves, and belts. When he opened the next series of drawers, he whistled and glanced at her, his eyes rounding.

  “Careful with her jewelry,” Dante warned as the detective uncovered a black velvet box and raised a diamond and emerald necklace to the light. “You are searching, not assessing her diamonds.”

  Ladd’s eyes narrowed threateningly. He slammed the drawers shut, swiftly explored the lower ones, and strolled to the chest sitting against the wall.

  Alexa cringed. “My intimate things,” she whispered to Dante. “Must he touch my underwear and bras?”

  “You’ll wash everything. Better still, you’ll buy new things.” Dante rubbed her back. She would have relished the soothing effect of his fingers at any other time. But not now. Averting her gaze from the detective, she concentrated on the Intracoastal Canal, a view that had always relaxed her. “You don’t have to fondle every thong,” Dante said, his tone menacing.

  “I knew it.” The detective flung up his hands. One dangled a lace bra and the other clasped a small jewelry box.

  Alexa paled. “What’s that?” She didn’t recognize the gray box. Hers were all black with her initials embroidered or painted in gold, a special luxury touch from her high-class jeweler.

  “It was hidden here.” Ladd demonstrated how the box had nestled inside the curve of the bra.

  Why was that gray box hidden in her lingerie drawer? Her throat tightened so hard she suffocated and inhaled hard. God, what was happening?

  “Ah-ha. A solitaire. Not your usual huge diamonds. Still it makes a beautiful engagement ring. Oh, and here is a small card.” His lips thinned in a long smile that reminded her of a snake. “How sweet. ‘Thank you for taking me. I will love you forever’. Ah-ha. Care to explain, Alexa?”

  She stomped forward, rubbing her neck, and forced the words out. “I don’t understand. I’ve never seen it.”

  Ladd arched ominous eyebrows. “Of course. Why did I expect you to say anyt
hing else?”

  No. It’s not true. It’s not happening. How could she stop the shaking? She wrapped her arms around her chest and stared at the box displaying the diamond. A small diamond of poor quality that looked more like a zirconium. A ring she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing after Greg had taught her to appreciate the best. It was that lousy diamond that threatened her right now.

  Count to five. Inhale. Exhale. She had to do something. Get herself out of this mess before it was too late. She’d pledged to build her future on her own—a future where she wouldn’t let any male intimidate her, a future where she’d depend on herself in every way.

  Start now.

  She lifted her chin. “You’ve seen my jewelry. Do you really think I need that ring?” She reached in the dresser drawer and extracted a square black box with a gold monogram made of an A and P interlaced. Clicking it open, she revealed a fabulous ten carat, brilliant diamond reflecting light in all directions. “This is my wedding ring. Greg wanted me to keep it.” She didn’t add she considered it to be her manacle. Greg’s slave mark. Soon she would emancipate herself by insisting he took it back. Right now she counted on the magnificent piece of jewelry to save her.

  The detective’s eyes widened and riveted on the sparkles of the opulent diamond. After a moment, he flipped an uncertain glance in her direction, then ogled the other sachets and jewelry boxes in the drawer. “Careful, lady. You have a little fortune here. I mean a big one. Don’t leave it around for anyone to grab and run.”

  “Don’t I know that?” She’d scored a point. Time to press her advantage. “Steve wouldn’t have needed a ring. If I wanted a man—if I loved a man—he wouldn’t need a ring to convince me to marry him. I already have my share of diamonds. I didn’t want Steve. I despised him.” She turned toward Dante. Would he believe her?

  “Detective Ladd, if Steve was her fiancé, I would have thought that would make Alexa less likely to be the killer rather than more likely. Don’t you think?”

  The detective’s gaze flipped from the cheap ring in his hand to the giant rock she held. He slammed the small box shut, shoved it in the plastic bag, and dropped the card in, too. “I will have fingerprints taken on this. I will continue my search now. Not a word to the press,” he added before moving to the guestroom.

  “We’re not the ones who leak nasty gossip,” Dante retorted. “But I suggest you search two apartments, Julia Bairey’s 1202 where Steve lived when married, and Cater Morton’s 502 where Steve moved after his divorce.”

  “Mr. Cantari, I know how to do my job. I can assure you these condos are on my list.”

  Alexa slumped on the edge of her bed. “I’m sick, just thinking that someone has entered my condo more than once, opened my medicine cabinet, searched through my clothes.”

  “Calm down, sweetheart. I promise we’ll find out who wants to hurt you.”

  Tilting her chin toward the door, she muttered, “He’s convinced I’m lying.”

  “No. I don’t think Ladd has made a decision. He’s still looking for clues. Several people have a good motive to get rid of Steve.”

  Pictures of jail, handcuffs, and court zipped around in her head. “Dante, do you believe me?” She wished he could take her in his arms and kiss her senseless to make her forget the nightmare. “Do you believe I’ve never seen that ring?”

  If he had no faith in her, he’d better leave and never come back. She’d had enough deceitful men around her.

  His lips twitched in a hint of a smile. “I’m sure you’d have thrown it in Steve’s face.”

  Relieved, she exhaled. At least, she still had a friend in this rotten world.

  “The whole thing doesn’t make sense.” Dante shook his head.

  Ladd came back toward them, his plastic bag swollen with more items. She didn’t give a damn if he took the whole household. “Mrs. Partson, do not leave town. Do not go any place where I can’t reach you.”

  “I don’t intend to. But I repeat—”

  “Alexa, don’t say anything now.” Dante’s warning gaze froze the words in her throat.

  Apparently, she was the main suspect. A shudder shook her and she plopped her forehead into her hands. Had they reached the point where anything she said could be held against her?

  Chapter Seven

  After Ladd’s departure, Dante strolled to the kitchen, grabbed two cans of beer from the refrigerator, and joined Alexa on her balcony. They settled on the rocking chairs watching the breathtaking view of the azure water spotted with the white sails of fishing boats. A couple of Jet Skis crisscrossed, stirring a wake of foam behind them, and a yellow boat zoomed past, dragging an expert water-skier.

  Dante snapped the cans open and handed her one. He gulped down half of his can and clucked his tongue. “Mmm. I needed a cold drink.”

  “Darn, I forgot to have the lock changed.”

  “It wouldn’t make a big difference, if someone can access the spare key from the security room. An alarm system connected to the police would be more useful.”

  Her eyes flashed with interest. “Not a bad idea. I’ll look into it tomorrow.”

  The breeze carried notes of music. Alexa bent over the rail. “Oh Dante, look. There’s a wedding on the beach.” He glanced in the direction she pointed. A flowered arch erected on the sand harbored a party of people, elegantly dressed but bare-foot. They formed a half circle as the bride and groom approached, greeted by a man wearing black pants and shirt, and holding a book—probably a minister.

  “Isn’t it lovely? A wedding on the beach,” she repeated with a sigh, as she turned toward him. “I wish them happiness.” A mixture of emotions played across her face—bitterness, disappointment, anger. He hated seeing her so disheartened.

  His fingers tightened on the can as he guzzled the rest of his beer. “Maybe I should rub your back. It’ll comfort you.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the offer.” She smiled, a very sad smile, and averted her gaze. “But I need to think.” Torturing her lip, she tapped on the arm of her rocking chair. “Who is trying to frame me, Dante? Who wants to throw Steve’s death on my shoulders? And why?”

  Desperation drenched the green pools of her eyes and twisted his gut. The temptation to take her in his arms and kiss her into oblivion escalated.

  Focus and help her.

  “Who and why?” The two words kept tumbling through his brain. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I wish I had an answer.” In an effort to distract her from gloomy feelings, he added, “Let’s review the plausible killers and their motives.”

  Her eyebrows arched, but she nodded. “Greg? He couldn’t stand Steve because he hit on me. Greg ordered Steve to stay away from me and threatened him once.”

  “Would Greg kill for you? Does he still love you?” Dante grimaced. He didn’t like the idea of any man, competing with him for Alexa. Especially not her former husband.

  “It’s not a healthy love. More like an obsession. Greg thinks he owns me. He won’t allow me to break free from the leash he insists on noosing around my neck with his attentions, his jealousy, his money. But to kill… I don’t think it’s his style. He’d pay others to do his dirty work.”

  Dante nodded. She was right. “You know him well.”

  “Better than anyone.” She sipped her beer and glanced again at the party on the beach.

  The music had stopped, and the ceremony had probably started.

  “What about Carter? Maybe he had a fight with Steve,” Dante suggested.

  “Maybe. I would put him on top of the list because I never trusted him and he did all but accuse me of Steve’s death.”

  “I will check his background and Steve’s. And their company.”

  “How?”

  “Don’t worry. The attorneys in my firm are experts at researching a case.” He scratched his nape while she frowned. “How about Julia?”

  “Julia?” Alexa exhaled. “Hmm. Until this morning, I thought she was in love with Steve. She didn’t wait long to celebrate
her new widowhood with Tom.”

  “Could she have caused that widowhood?”

  “To inherit? I don’t know if they have a sizable fortune.” Alexa shot him a hopeful glance.

  Client confidentiality prevented him from divulging what he already knew. Dante averted his eyes. “I don’t think so.” Julia had approached him a few months ago to represent her and get a big alimony out of Steve. Preferring not to deal with neighbors, he’d referred her to another firm as he had done previously when Greg had needed a good attorney.

  “Judging by the size and the quality of the ring he’s supposed to have bought for me, I don’t think Steve is that wealthy.”

  “Cara mia, you are the most exquisite gem.” Dante brought her ringless fingers to his lips.

  “Thank you.” She spun her head, glanced right and left, and shrugged. “It’s good to live on the twenty-first floor. The only neighbor who could ogle us is here with me.”

  “In that case, let’s take advantage of our open air privacy.” He chuckled and pulled her out of her chair on to his lap. Her delicate flowery perfume intoxicated his senses more efficiently than a bottle of Scotch. He gave her a searing kiss, wishing he could smother her anxiety. She laced her fingers around his neck and opened her mouth to his tongue and his passion. As she responded to his kisses, she seemed to relax.

  Soon, she sobered, eased back, and sighed. “We have to continue our brainstorming. Please, Dante. You said you want to be my lawyer. Help me. Don’t distract me.”

  “All right. Tell me anything you know about our neighbors. Start with Julia.” Alexa wriggled to move off his lap. He tightened his arms around her to restrain her. “Stay. Just talk.”

  “Is that how you interview your female clients?”

  “Only you.” In his arms, she should be able to unwind even while talking about prospective enemies.

  “Is that so?” She smiled and snuggled against his chest. “To answer your question, Julia comes from poor background, the oldest of four siblings. The father abandoned the family. The mother held different jobs and had a succession of lovers while Julia practically raised her brother and two sisters. She met Steve while waitressing in a bar near the university where he studied.”