by Arlene Kay
I took my cue from that. “Oh no, Lieutenant. I was there too. Actually, my husband accompanied me. We were doing a favor for Ms. Reyes.”
Keegan squinted at me as if I were some exotic species. “Stop! Let me get this straight. You`re Mrs. Eja Swann, correct?” He consulted his notes. “An author. Funny, I`ve never heard of you before. What`s your specialty—cookbooks?”
I bristled at that—an obtuse and sexist statement if ever I heard one. “My pen name is Eja Kane, and I write crime novels.”
“Really fine novels,” Anika said. “She`s won numerous awards.”
“Is that so?” Keegan, like most men, was not immune to the feminine charms of an ex-model. His gaze softened when he saw Anika Swann. “We`ll interview you one by one in the conference rooms. No discussion until then, please.” He signaled to a young uniformed officer. “Officer Malloy will stay here with you. Mr. and Mrs. Swann Senior and Mrs. Melanie Hunt can go. Just leave your contact information with us and be available tomorrow for questioning. Ms. Reyes will join me in the interview room.”
Sonia shrank into her seat and didn`t move. She was either traumatized or an academy award caliber actress. I couldn`t decide which. Sorrel Yeagan immediately challenged Keegan.
“She`s in no condition to be grilled, Lieutenant. Ms. Reyes is in shock. I demand that you let a doctor examine her.” Sorrel stood soldier-straight, projecting the power of a much larger man.
Keegan growled a terse response that I couldn`t quite hear. From the frown on his face, it was neither friendly nor polite. He motioned to his sergeant, had a brief conversation, and fixed Sorrel with a steely blue stare.
“We`ll ask a physician from the audience to examine her. Bound to be at least one in this crowd.” Keegan gestured toward Sonia. “Come along, Ms. Reyes.”
“I don`t need a doctor.” Sonia moved to the edge of her chair, suddenly alert. She swiveled to her left and pointed at Deming. “I want legal counsel. Him.”
Deming did a double take. “My practice is strictly corporate law, Ms. Reyes. Naturally, I can refer you . . .”
Sonia shook her head. “You are an attorney, aren`t you? Harvard Law.”
“True. But murder is a capital offense. You need a criminal specialist.”
“Listen to him, Sonia,” Sorrel said. “You`re not thinking straight.”
Fire flashed from her beautiful eyes as she faced her agent. “I have nothing to hide. It`s just a precaution.” She turned to Deming again. “You agree?”
He shrugged and rose to join her. “If you insist, but only as an observer.” As they filed out of the room, we exchanged looks. Deming was clearly troubled, but I was curious. Sonia Reyes had an agenda which included looking out for number one. She was dry-eyed and composed, free from any grief for Duff Ryder.
PATIENCE IS NOT in my skill set. I helped myself to a sandwich and coffee, anything to allay the boredom and keep me awake. After getting a message on her radio, our babysitter in blue left Sorrel Yeagan and I alone in the conference room. The opportunity was too good to ignore.
“You`re really close to Sonia,” I said. “She`s lucky to have such a good friend.”
He smiled at that, as if it was either the supreme compliment or an absurd joke. “We`ve been together a long time. Not romantically—not anymore—but as business associates and friends.”
I detected a note of sadness in his voice, as if the emotional connection was still strong on his part.
“I just met Sonia this week. What an accomplished woman—and so lovely too!”
Sorrel shifted into business mode. “You`re quite accomplished yourself, Mrs. Swann. Lovely as well. Sonia and I researched you.”
Not much escaped that penetrating gaze. I switched gears, projecting innocence, or my best effort at it.
“This whole lookism crusade puzzles me. What can Sonia hope to achieve? After all, very few people—especially women—would declare themselves ugly. I just don`t see throngs rallying to her cause, especially if a push for another protected class is part of the package.”
Sorrel shook his head. “The reaction surprised even me. Lots of emotion on both sides. People came out of the woodwork to demonize Sonia.” His lips twisted in a faux grin. “Men like Gabriel Mann ridiculed her. That was even worse.”
I ignored his foray into Gabriel-land. The situation was complicated enough. “Sonia attracted supporters too, didn`t she? People who loved her and what she stood for.”
Sorrel searched his pockets and produced a throat lozenge. “You mean Duff, don`t you?”
“Or others like her,” I said. “The lobby was packed with true believers the other day.”
“You`ve got it wrong, Mrs. Swann. Most of them were members of COWE.” He sighed. “Unfortunate acronym in my view, but no one could tell them that. Duff brought them in. She was a dynamo, a true believer. Thought Sonia was a god.” Sorrel grinned. “Pardon me. I meant goddess. Kind of scary, truth be told, but Duff was a good soul. Not a jealous bone in her body.”
I recalled her sweet smile and devotion to the “cause.” Quite unexpectedly, I felt the sting of tears at the loss of a young, vibrant life. Why had Duff ingested that throat spray? It made no sense, especially since Sonia was hardly the type to share.
Sonia had spread her things all over the bathroom counter yesterday, easily accessible to anyone who entered the suite. The suspect list was vast—maids, friends, members of the Bella Brigade, and a few enemies. I was positive that Gabriel had been lurking around there too. His wife Melanie Hunt had a valid excuse to be there, and she might not be a fan of open marriage after all.
Before I posed any more questions, the door flew open, and Phineas Keegan appeared.
“Come along, Ms. Kane,” he said. “Since you ignored the order to keep quiet, maybe you can contribute something to my investigation.” His smile verged on a sneer. “By the way, you`ll be glad to know that your husband did not represent Ms. Reyes after all.”
“Really? Why not?”
“He claimed a potential conflict of interest, and I agreed with him. Ms. Reyes chose another family member—Mr. Bolin Swann—to witness our discussion. Quite an interesting gentleman. Not often do I sit down with a man on the Forbes wealthiest list.”
If Keegan already knew Bolin’s bank balance, he was far more sophisticated than he appeared to be. Call me officially impressed!
As we walked to the interview room, I glimpsed Deming and Anika waiting in the corridor. Deming locked eyes with me but said nothing. Bolin was seated in the anteroom speaking softly to Sonia. I had no reason to be nervous, but a tingling in my brain told me Keegan was up to something.
The answer came when Officer Malloy escorted someone into the other room. The map of guilt or something equally sinister suffused the handsome mug of my former husband. Gabriel Mann had some explaining to do.
Chapter Six
“MY SERGEANT DID some checking on you,” Keegan said. “Something clicked in my brain when I heard your name, but I just couldn`t place it.”
Instead of filling empty conversational space, I chose silence. As a weapon, it was enormously effective. When Keegan realized that his gambit had failed, he switched tactics and tried goading me.
“You have a reputation with the Boston PD,” he said. “Fancy yourself a detective, don`t you?”
“Hurrah for Google,” I said. “My life is an open book.”
Insolence is a bad habit of mine that enrages adversaries yet feels divine. In this instance, it was counterproductive. Phineas Keegan shot me a stern look and upped the ante.
“You find this amusing, do you? A young woman, someone you knew, lost her life.”
Murder is never amusing, but Keegan and I had clashed from the first. He was right about one thing though. We had focused on gamesmanship instead of considering the victim.
Keegan huffed a bit and finally settled down. “Okay. What do you know?”
I marshaled my thoughts, starting with Sonia’s phone call and ending with Duff’s murder. The temptation to drag Gabriel Mann into the mix was almost irresistible.
“Someone was threatening Sonia. Because of the lookism cause, I suspect.”
“Lookism? That`s a joke, isn`t it? I mean a bunch of women griping doesn`t sound like your cup of tea, Mrs. Swann. More like a coffee klatch.”
“I`m not a member of COWE, but I certainly support many of their aims.” I folded my hands in front of me. “It`s a human rights issue, Lieutenant.”
Keegan looked weary. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “After working twenty-five years in Cambridge, I am well aware of human rights.” He adjusted his reading glasses and shuffled some papers. “You mentioned death threats. Is that a guess, or do you have proof?”
“I saw them. Copies, anyhow. Duff shared them with me yesterday.” I gave Keegan what I hoped was a winsome smile. “The Cambridge police have the originals. Check with Sorrel Yeagan.”
“Funny you should say that. Officer Malloy checked, and we have no record of any police report. Strange, isn`t it?”
“Bureaucracies are notoriously inefficient.” I sniffed. “Probably misfiled or lost.”
Antagonizing the police is bad strategy and poor policy. By an effort of will, I clamped my jaw shut and said no more. Keegan saw my reaction and laughed—an unfriendly snort reminiscent of a rampaging elephant.
“Tell me everything you know about this. And while you`re at it, fill me in on your former husband. I understand he feuded with Ms. Reyes.”
I recalled the advice that Bolin Swann had once given me. “Never lie to the police, but don`t volunteer anything.”
I shrugged. “Sorry. Gabriel Mann is a stranger to me. Has been for a decade. Come to think of it, I didn`t even know him when we were married.”
“Well,” Keegan said. “You must know something. Most ex-wives would kill for this chance. I know mine would.”
That didn`t surprise me one bit. Given his sexist comments, Keegan probably left a string of angry women in his wake.
“I know all about their rivalry,” Keegan said. “Social media, you know. Cops use it too.” He sighed. “These academics fight over the damnedest things.”
“Tenure is a very big deal,” I said. “Money, prestige, advancement.”
“Sounds like a motive for murder to me.” He showed a set of exceptionally large teeth with a predatory mien.
I had a sharp, sudden aha moment. He`d won the first skirmish in our battle of wills. Round one to Keegan.
“Dr. Paskert is around here somewhere. He knows what the score is. After all, he`s the boss. However, in my experience Gabriel was not the violent type. He used other means to get what he wanted.”
Keegan got all wide-eyed. “Hmm. Seducing the opposition, perhaps? Maybe he used his wife to eliminate the competition? Works for me. Nice and tidy, two for one.” He rose and loomed over me. “You`ve been very helpful, Mrs. Swann. You`re free to go now.”
THE MOMENT I shut the door, Deming and Anika swarmed me.
“Don`t say another word,” Deming hissed. “Just keep on moving.”
For once I didn`t argue. My brief encounter with the lieutenant had spooked me. Who knew what tricks he`d use on Gabriel? No doubt about it—Keegan was wily, and that made him dangerous.
“Is your dad still here?” I asked.
“He walked Sonia to her car,” Anika said. “Mr. Yeagan will take her home.”
We exchanged glances but kept our thoughts to ourselves. For an avowed feminist and strident activist, Sonia certainly knew how to handle men. Lookism aside, she used her beauty to great advantage.
I expected the lobby to be jammed, but the throng had dissipated, leaving only a few posters and some stragglers from the Bella Brigade. In a jarring note, yellow crime scene tape cut a swath across the ladies’ room area.
“Is she . . . have they moved her yet?” I asked Deming.
He nodded and put his arm around me. “The coroner’s van just left. Come on. Let`s go home, Eja. We`ll talk it over there.”
Right on cue, the Bentley pulled up to the curb.
“Bolin texted me,” Anika said. “He`ll be here awhile. Po will drop us off and go back for him later.”
My limbs felt as stiff as a marionette’s. I stepped gingerly into the Bentley and snuggled next to Deming.
“Feeling sad?” Deming asked. “You`re a pro at this by now.”
I couldn`t explain it. Duff Ryder was a virtual stranger, but I felt an almost primal grief for the ungainly young woman whose life had been snuffed out. I`m a writer and a damned good one. Maybe I could pierce the veil of anonymity around her life and give her death some visibility. I shuddered to think about one of those bland, featureless obituaries that so often appeared in the Globe. Duff deserved better.
“Did you get anything from Sonia?” I asked. “Information, that is. The way she clung to you, it looked like she`d give a lot more.”
Deming brightened. “Really? I didn`t notice. Besides, you`re too suspicious. Tell her, Mom.”
Anika laughed. “Some women are like that around men. Almost a reflex action. She tried the same thing with your father, you know. That poor Mr. Yeagan. It must be hard for him.”
“Besides, I didn`t stick around long enough to hear anything,” Deming said. “Keegan was chomping at the bit. Once I bowed out, he sent me packing.”
My feelings about Sonia were decidedly mixed. At the very least, she was a study in contrasts. For an outspoken feminist she wasn`t above flirting with any presentable male or capitalizing on her appearance. Talk about lookism!
“Sonia has enough cosmetics to open her own store,” I said. “Poor Duff scuttled around in that dank outfit while Sonia played the queen. No wonder things were rough between them.”
Anika nodded. “I noticed the same thing. The girl obviously adored Sonia, but the feeling was not mutual. Very empress to scullery maid. Maybe that explains everything.”
“Wait a minute,” Deming said. “What are you talking about?”
“The big question, of course. How did Duff ingest that throat rinse? It wasn`t hers, but somehow she used it.” I rapped him on the knuckles. “Keep up, or your mom and I will solve the damn thing while you stumble around in the dark.”
Deming used the cover of darkness to prove how wide-awake he really was. When we reached home, Anika blew both of us a kiss and promised to call later in the day.
“Come along, Mrs. Swann,” Deming said. “Time to get some rest.”
I was tired—exhausted—but still sleep eluded me. Deming slipped into slumber land almost immediately, but I could not. The image of Duff Ryder, splayed across the floor, haunted me. The white powdery foam on her mouth popped up every time I closed my eyes. That had to mean poison. The police would test the residue of course, but I needed closure. I had to confirm my suspicions. My iPad was equipped with an enhanced version of The Book of Poisons, something I should have consulted straight away. I slipped out of the covers and slid toward the edge of the mattress. Before I escaped a pair of strong arms trapped me.
“Going somewhere?” asked a husky voice.
“Just insomnia. Go to sleep.”
“Nope. Get back under the covers, close your eyes, and let me hold you. You`ll sleep then. Guaranteed.”
I weighed my options. Deming would insist on getting up if I did, and there was the further danger of awakening Cato. The last thing I wanted was a forced march to the Common for a 2 a.m. potty break. All in all, surrender, sweet surrender, wa
s the only smart play.
ONCE AGAIN, HE was right. After Deming administered his version of sleep therapy, I dozed off until blinding sunlight and the urgent cries of Cato awakened me. I blinked once then once again at the time display. Nine o’clock! I found my robe and staggered toward the door.
The scent of espresso wafted into the room, followed by my husband carrying a cup of the precious brew on a silver tray. He had slicked his shiny black hair behind his ears and applied Royal Oud, my favorite fragrance. No Trojan horse ever looked that good. Be wary of a gorgeous man bearing gifts.
“What`s all this?”
“At your service, m`lady.” Deming dodged Cato’s teeth and sat beside me. “Consider this a bribe.”
My need for caffeine outweighed my suspicions. I took a sip and sighed. “What`s the deal?”
“Stay out of this murder, Eja. No good can come from it.”
“Duff Ryder proved that already. Besides, I may accept Sonia’s job offer. Why not? It might be interesting.”
I knew that Deming was working himself into a major snit. He folded his arms and narrowed those hazel eyes, looking very much the affronted hapa prince. We had sparred since preschool, so I was conversant with all the signs.
“Things are different now,” he growled. “You`re a married woman with responsibilities.”
“I`m also a writer with a career to consider. True crime sells really well these days.”
He set his jaw in a particularly stubborn pose. My husband, an elegant mule with a fetching chin cleft. “What if I forbid you to get involved?” he said.
“Don`t try it, buster. I`m your equal, not your subject.” I set my cup on the table, calmly and deliberately, and stared him down.
Deming shifted his strategy like the wily lawyer that he was. “I worry about you, don`t you see? Something strange is going on there, and I can`t always be there to protect you. Murder and who knows what else. With Gabriel Mann involved, I really worry. Never did trust that guy.”
