by Kyra Davis
Dena paused for a beat before clearing her throat and standing up. “Leah, I’m sorry about Bob. I’m sorry he was killed and I’m sorry he was such a major prick.”
Leah used the back of her hand to wipe away a tear. “I tried so hard to be a good wife. But I was never able to get it right.”
Dena took the sweater back out and draped it over her arm. “You need to pack this and wear it. And you should never allow a man to give you shit about your wardrobe. You shouldn’t allow a man to give you shit, period.”
I smiled as I watched them. It was probably the nicest exchange the two of them had ever had. I glanced at the door to the bedroom. “Now that we know we’re alone, maybe we should comb this place again and make sure there really isn’t anything missing.”
We spent the next fifteen minutes searching Leah’s and Jack’s rooms. We didn’t find anything amiss until we reached the office and Leah started going through the desk where the computer once sat. She stared into the top drawer for a full minute before speaking.
“All the floppy disks are gone.”
I walked over and looked in the drawer. “What was on them?”
Leah gave me a sharp look. “Why is that important?”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “That’s why I’m asking.”
Leah pursed her lips and shut the drawer. “I don’t think they knew what they were stealing.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Dena said, “just tell her what was on the disks so we can get on with things.”
Leah shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Occasionally when Bob was working late and Jack was asleep I would surf the Internet, and when I found something that interested me I would cut and paste it and, you know, save it on a disk.”
Dena perked up. “Leah, were you saving Internet porn?”
“Ew! No! I was saving…short stories.”
Dena nodded knowingly. “Some of the best erotica is on the Internet.”
“It wasn’t erotica! They did include a few sex scenes, though.” She blushed and looked at the ground. “I was saving Fan Fiction from a site dedicated to All My Children’s Kendall and Ryan.”
Dena blinked. “Is this a joke?”
“Well, it’s better than porn!” Leah snapped. “And in the fan fiction Ryan dumps Greenlee and ends up with Kendall. It’s the way it should have happened. And since these fan Web sites sometimes go under, I always save the stories that I may want to reread on disk.”
“I agree,” I said. “The intruder definitely didn’t know what he was taking.”
Dena laughed. “Won’t he be surprised when he gets home? So assuming that we’re not dealing with a crazed soap fan, what do you suppose our burglar expected to find on the disks?”
Leah planted her hands on her hips. “I bet it was Bob’s little Jezebel who broke in here.”
Dena lifted her eyebrows. “What makes you say that?”
“Because I talked to Erika earlier. She screened all of Bob’s calls at work and she thinks the only way he could have been corresponding with that woman without her knowing would have been through his e-mail account.”
“So what?” I asked. “Why would that make Bianca want to break in and steal poorly written fiction?”
“The stories were beautifully written,” Leah snarled. “Bianca obviously thought that Bob cared enough about her to save their correspondence. So she came in here to steal it and spare herself the embarrassment of someone else stumbling across it.”
Dena cocked her head to the side. “Are you aware that your theory makes no sense, or has ABC daytime TV warped your brain beyond repair?”
“Look, the little witch already slept with my husband, and as far as I’m concerned she’s probably the one who shot him, so what’s a little burglary?” She made an attempt to toss her hair, but it had long since formed itself into a frizzy, unmovable mass. “It all makes perfect sense.”
My cell rang and I fished it out of my handbag. “Hello?”
“Sophie, is that you?” Mary Ann’s desperate voice floated through the earpiece.
I could hear Jack screaming in the background. “I take it he woke up.”
“Yes, about a half hour ago—Jack, stop it!” She sucked in a deep breath before addressing me again. “Are you coming home now?”
“Well, Leah still hasn’t really packed anything….”
“But she can do that tomorrow if she really has to, right? Jack, I told you, no socks on the cat!”
“We’re coming right now.” I hung up the phone. “That was Mary Ann, we have to leave immediately. Both Mary Ann’s and Mr. Katz’s lives are at stake.”
My plan was to get home, go straight to bed and try to solve the mystery of Leah’s lost fan fiction (along with the lesser mystery of her husband’s murder) the next morning when I was better rested. Instead I was up most of the night listening to my young nephew torment my sister at the top of his lungs. By three in the morning I had decided that Jack wasn’t a normal child. I mean, if all children were as much trouble as Jack, corporal punishment would never have been curtailed.
At nine the next morning I stumbled out of bed. Leah was already up and had apparently spent the morning instructing Jack on how to destroy my kitchen. Every pot, pan and Tupperware item I owned was strewn across the floor.
Leah smiled at me and poured some freshly brewed coffee into a mug. “I made it strong, just how you like it.”
My mood lifted a bit. “I can’t believe you made it at all. That’s so sweet of you!”
“Well, it’s the least I could do considering what you’re doing for me this morning.”
My eyes narrowed into what I knew were puffy red slits. “What am I doing for you?”
The buzzer rang and I looked at the clock above the stove. None of my friends was self-destructive enough to ring my place before noon.
“That would be my moms’group,” Leah explained. “They all wanted to come over this morning and offer me moral support.”
I looked down at the stained oversize T-shirt I was wearing as a nightshirt. “Were you planning on telling me about this?”
“As soon as you got up.” Leah crossed to the front door and buzzed her friends in. “It’s not my fault you can’t get yourself out of bed at a reasonable time.”
“No, that would be your child’s fault.”
Jack banged two pot lids together to emphasize my point.
“Leah!” Miranda swept into the room wearing black capris and a red T-shirt. Her daughter Courtney was tucked under her right arm, wearing a matching outfit. She threw her free arm around Leah’s neck and pulled her in for a quick air-kiss.
Behind her was a woman with long auburn hair and a body that was greatly enhanced by breast-feeding. Her bald dumpling was strapped into a carrier secured to her back.
Leah led them to the living room. “Sorry about the mess,” she said, sitting down on the edge of my sofa. “Sophie’s never been very domestic.”
“Excuse me?” I put my hands on my hips, then quickly dropped them when I realized how short the move made my T-shirt.
“I completely understand,” Miranda cooed. “Artistic types always need a bit of chaos in their lives.” She turned her attention back to Leah. “Donna and Marcy should be here any minute. They’re bringing bagels and croissants.”
“Perfect.” Leah looked up at me. “Sophie, do you mind getting Miranda and Cecily a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, I mind!”
Miranda and the other woman, whom I assumed was Cecily, looked at me in surprise. I rolled my eyes and stormed into the kitchen to start pouring coffee.
Leah followed me in. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should have given you more notice. I just needed to do something normal today.”
I didn’t respond. It wasn’t normal for me to be half dressed and serving coffee to my sister’s friends while they discussed the benefits of disposable diapers.
“Listen, I want you to know how much I appreciate you,” Leah sa
id.
That got my attention. “You do?” I asked carefully.
Leah nodded. “Last night I couldn’t stop thinking about what I would do if the police somehow pinned this on me. Can you imagine me—in jail? How would I survive, Sophie?”
I put my hand on her shoulder. “I’m not going to let that happen.”
“I hope it won’t, but even you can only do so much.” Leah’s eyes got a little watery. “I try to take some comfort in the knowledge that you’ll make a wonderful mother to Jack if I can’t be here for him.”
My hand involuntarily tightened around her shoulder. “Leah, you’re not going anywhere. I am going to make sure that you will always be the one to take care of Jack. I mean that.”
Leah flung her arms around my neck. “You’re such a good sister!”
I disentangled myself and quickly handed out the coffee before running to the shower, my sense of urgency at an all-time high. Once dressed and presentable I locked myself in my bedroom with the phone and called the Gatsby. After being informed that Cheryl Miller had the day off, I retrieved Leah’s address book from the guest room and flipped to the M page. All of Cheryl’s information was there. She must have moved recently because her outer Sunset address was scratched out and a Cow Hollow address was written in its place. The prestigious address told me Cheryl hadn’t expected to be laid off by the Ritz. I wondered how she planned to pay her rent now that she had only one front-desk job. Perhaps I could help her out by securing her a place at one of the state’s more renowned penitentiaries.
I dialed Anatoly. He didn’t answer his home phone, but when I tried his cell, he picked up on the first ring.
“Hello, Sophie.”
“Hey, listen,” I said, sitting down on the edge of my bed. “I think we should talk to Bob’s sister, Cheryl. She’s not working today, so we might be able to catch her at home.”
There was a pause. “You’re not armed, are you?”
“Why would I be armed?”
“I’m just trying to figure out your motivation for wanting to see Cheryl.”
“I don’t want to kill her—or at least I’m not going to. But I was thinking that maybe she wanted to kill Bob and maybe, just maybe, she did.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because she’s an evil bitch and that’s what evil bitches do—they kill people.”
“I think you’re confusing reality with a James Bond film.”
“It’s worth checking out,” I said. “Cheryl and Bob never got along. She’s clearly trying to convince everyone that Leah’s the guilty party, even though she has no basis for the accusation. Maybe she’s trying to draw attention to Leah so that she can slip under the radar.”
“It seems like a long shot.”
“Look, we can’t afford to leave any stone unturned here. Leah is not cut out for prison and I am not cut out for motherhood!”
Anatoly took a moment before responding. “Explain to me how talking to Cheryl is going to keep you from getting pregnant.”
“Not pregnant. Don’t be dense. Leah just told me that if she gets convicted she’s going to leave Jack in my care.”
Anatoly’s laughter rang in my ears.
“It’s not funny!”
“Think about it, Sophie, you and Mr. Katz could become the legal guardians of the Antichrist. Even you have to admit that’s rather amusing.”
“No, I don’t. Now, get over here and take me to Cheryl’s or I’ll have you pummeled to death in my next book.”
“Not many women can be sexy and insane at the same time, but I have to say, you blend the two traits masterfully.”
“You’re sick.” I looked in the mirror and thanked God that Anatoly couldn’t see me smiling. “Be here in a few minutes.”
Fifteen minutes later I met Anatoly at the front door so he wouldn’t be subjected to the scrutiny of Leah’s moms’ group. He greeted me with a quick once-over that made my heart do a little flip-flop.
“I take it from the short length of your skirt that we’re not taking the motorcycle.”
“My car’s just three blocks away and street-cleaning’s tomorrow, so I figured I’d drive.” I started down the street and Anatoly fell into step with me. “I stopped by Leah’s place last night.”
“Oh?” Anatoly checked his watch, then stuffed his hand in his pocket.
“Yeah, we kind of interrupted a break-in.”
Anatoly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Did you call the police?”
“Um…”
“Why? Why do you always do this?”
“It wouldn’t have helped,” I said defensively. “I didn’t realize anyone else was there until I was already inside the house, and then I just ran out. By the time we had a chance to call the cops, it was clear the intruder was long gone.”
“If he left in a hurry he might have left something behind that could implicate him, or at least give us an idea about what he was looking for.” He checked his watch again. “We should go over there now and check things out.”
“I already did that last night.”
Anatoly’s jaw dropped. “You went back to the house after you knew someone had broken in? What if he had still been there?”
“I wasn’t alone. Dena and Leah were with me the whole time.”
“So the trespasser would have had to use three bullets instead of one.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been in more dangerous situations in the recent past.”
“But why test your luck? You can’t take those kinds of chances with your life.” He took a step closer to me and reached out to touch my hair. “You have too much to look forward to,” he said, his voice taking on a considerably softer tone.
I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me. “What do I have to look forward to—?” My voice caught as I asked the question.
Anatoly took another step closer and leaned in so that his lips were no more than a centimeter away from my ear. “I know this is hard to believe,” he said, his breath tickling my skin, “but Starbucks is coming out with another variation of the Frappuccino.”
“Oh,” I breathed, “I wouldn’t want to miss out on that.”
Anatoly laughed softly and moved back. “So, no more needless risks. If you don’t want to call the police, at least call me and let me deal with it. That is what you’re paying me for, right?”
I nodded and willed my breathing to come out at an even pace. “Right, no more needless risks.”
“Good, now why don’t you tell me what you found at Leah’s when you went back.”
I filled him in on everything as we walked to my car. It didn’t take long, since there really wasn’t much to tell. I slid behind the wheel as he turned the whole thing over in his head.
“They took all the disks?”
“As far as I can tell.” I started the car and turned down the radio.
“What the hell could they have been expecting to find?”
“That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Leah thinks Bianca was trying to find records of her and Bob’s e-mail correspondence. It doesn’t seem likely, but I’ve yet to come up with an alternative hypothesis.”
“What makes Leah think they corresponded by e-mail?”
“Erika put the idea in her head. Who knows if it’s actually true or not, but—” I stopped short.
“What’s wrong?”
“I thought I just heard my mother’s voice—there it is again. Oh my God, it’s coming from the radio!” I pulled my car to a stop in front of someone’s driveway and turned up the volume.
“So you don’t think your daughter bore her husband any ill will?” the interviewer asked.
“No, I don’t. Let me tell you something about my Leah. She’s a nice girl. She was nothing but good to her husband and that was no small feat because he was a real schlemiel.”
“You didn’t like him?”
“What’s to like? I’ll never understand why she married him. In a church yet! But that
’s the problem with girls today. They always take up with the nogoodniks. Her sister Sophie did the same thing and married some putz in Las Vegas. Now she’s divorced and running around town with a Russian. This one’s Jewish at least, so I don’t mind so much, but he needs to find himself a real job.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Please make it stop.”
But Mama continued. “Right now people hire him to take pictures of their husbands schtooping other women! You tell me, is that any way to make a living?”
Anatoly grinned. “Taking pictures of people schtooping—I think I’ll put that on my business cards.”
“Um, I see…” The interviewer’s voice was shaking; I was pretty sure he was trying to contain his laughter. “Do you think the police are treating your daughter Leah as a suspect because of her race?”
“Never you mind about her race,” my mother said sharply. “It’s not polite to talk about such things. It doesn’t matter what color my daughter is. What’s important is that she’s a real beauty and she’s single now. When all this nonsense about Bob blows over, she’ll have to beat them off with a stick, you just wait and see.”
“Oh, my God, why don’t they cut to a commercial?” I moaned.
“Right, well, that’s all the time we have….”
“Thank you!” I turned the radio off and looked at Anatoly. “I think I’m going to change my name.”
“What? And break your mother’s heart?”
“Go to hell.” I pulled the car back onto the road and drove toward Cheryl’s.
CHAPTER 6
“I like fanatics. They always make me feel well balanced.”
—Words To Die By
Anatoly unbuckled his seat belt as I pulled into a parking spot. “Presuming she’s home, what are you planning on saying?” he asked.
