Passion, Betrayal and Killer Highlights

by Kyra Davis

  It was approaching 6:00 a.m. when I finally got back in bed. I was able to sleep for another three and a half hours before Mr. Katz started kneading my pillowcase. I opened one eye and looked at him. “I suppose you want food,” I muttered.

  I interpreted my pet’s angry expression as a yes. I crawled out of bed and stumbled down the hall. Leah was in the living room staring at five different outfits she had laid out on the couch.

  “Hot date?” I asked as I went into the kitchen and retrieved the kibble.

  “It’s not exactly a date, just a first meeting.”

  “Wait a minute!” I rushed back into the living room, kibble in hand. “I was joking. You’re not seriously thinking about going out on a date with everything that’s going on in your life, are you?”

  “No, of course not.” Leah selected a navy blue sleeveless sweater and held it up against her torso. “I misspoke. What I meant was that I agreed to give an interview today. I thought it would be a good idea to tell my side of the story to the press.”

  “Oh…okaaay.” I pivoted and went back to my chore of feeding the cat. “Who’s the interview with?”

  “The man from Flavah Magazine. Jerome.”

  I bit my lip as I felt the beginning of a headache come on. “I forgot that you had agreed to meet with him.”

  “I did, too. But he called this morning to confirm. He has such a nice deep voice. Do you think I should wear that plum sweater that Bob didn’t like?”

  “So you do like him!” I slammed my hand against the tile counter. “Damn it, Leah, this is not good!”

  “I told you, it’s just an interview.” She opted for the sleeveless number instead, and picked a pair of brown cigarette pants to go with it. “You know, I’ve never been with a black guy before.”

  “Leah,” I said in my best warning tone.

  “I’ve dated Latinos before, and I went out with that Japanese guy in high school, but I never dated anyone of my own race. Why do you think that is?”

  “I don’t know. Can we examine this issue at a different time—say, after Bob’s case has been closed?”

  Leah smiled and came into the kitchen. “I swear on our father’s memory that I will not so much as bat an eyelash at Jerome.”

  I let out a sigh. “Thank you.”

  “On one condition.”

  “One condition? Maybe you’re not getting this, but you’re the one facing prison time. You should be suppressing your urge to flirt with Jerome for your own sake!”

  “It’s just a small favor, Sophie.”

  I threw my hands up in defeat. “Fine, what is it?”

  “I need you to babysit Jack today.”

  “In what universe is that a small favor?”

  “Just while I’m talking to Jerome. He wants me to show him around my house so he can get a better sense of the kind of life I shared with Bob. It shouldn’t take too long.”

  “You know the saying ‘time flies when you’re having fun’?” I asked. “Well, the reverse is true, too.”

  “Don’t be selfish,” Leah reprimanded. “Besides, you owe me.”

  “How do you figure?”

  Leah took a step forward and looked me in the eye. “Three little words. Barbie. Dream. House.”

  I closed my eyes. “Damn it, I knew that would come back to bite me.”

  Less than two hours later, I had drunk an entire pot of coffee and it still hadn’t given me the lift necessary to deal with my now awake and inexplicably unhappy nephew. I bounced him up and down while pacing the living room singing every kids’ song I could think of from “Rock-a-Bye Baby” to the theme song from The Incredibles. Jack was having none of it.

  When the phone rang I shifted Jack to my right hip and tucked the receiver between my ear and shoulder. “Yes,” I screamed, in hopes of making myself heard over Jack’s howls.

  “Hi, um, is Leah there?”

  “Does it sound like the mother of this child is here?” I put Jack down on the floor, which just made him scream louder.

  “Okay, I’m thinking this is a bad time.”

  “Wait, who is this?” I sat on the edge of the couch and desperately started sorting through Leah’s diaper bag to find a magic toy to pacify Jack.

  “It’s Charlie…”

  “Marcus’s Charlie?”

  “C’est moi.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad you called!” I found a small stuffed clown hiding under a supply of baby wipes and tossed it in Jack’s direction. “Did you find anything out?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Define ‘sort of.’”

  “Well, nobody remembers the name of the husband or what part of Brazil they were from. But Maria went to our day spa while she was staying here. Wendy, the masseuse who worked on her, remembers her.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a knack for this detective stuff, Charlie.” I started unzipping pockets in Leah’s bag, looking for something more effective than the clown. There was a small outside pocket in which I found a supply of Leah’s makeup. I put my hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver. “Here, Jack, try some Estée Lauder.”

  “Sophie? Are you still there?”

  “I’m here.” I glanced at Jack, who was showing a surprising interest in his mother’s cosmetics, notably a shiny cylinder of lipstick. “Okay, so what did Wendy say about Maria?”

  “Basically that Maria was one of those clients who liked to talk when she was supposed to be relaxing. She spent the whole time quizzing Wendy about San Francisco’s hidden treasures—you know, the cool hangouts that the tourists don’t know about. But here’s the kicker. She said that it was her first visit to San Francisco and she didn’t know a soul here.”

  “Really?” I tapped my finger against my lips. “She could have been covering,” I ventured. “You know, making a point of saying that she didn’t know people here so no one would suspect she was having an affair with a local.”

  “I could see it if the conversation was with her husband or his family, but why make a point of lying to your masseuse?” Charlie reasoned.

  “You’re right, that doesn’t make sense.” I sighed. Why was it that the more information I got, the more confused I became? “Okay, here’s another question for you. Is there any chance that Bob was checking into the hotel under a pseudonym?”

  “Unlikely. We need a credit card to make a reservation. Celebs sometimes ask us to refer to them by a fake name, but our records in the computer have their real info.”

  I sighed again and then looked down at Jack. “Charlie, I’ve got to go.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you if I get more dirt.”

  “Yeah, okay, gotta go.” I hung up the phone and bent down to Jack’s level. “You ate all the lipstick, didn’t you.”

  Jack looked up at me with big innocent eyes and flashed me a giant smile, his baby teeth now covered with Crystal Rose.

  I picked up the canister of lipstick and looked to see if there were any instructions concerning accidental ingestion.

  “I’m so not cut out to be your guardian.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “Of course I don’t own you!” Samantha spat. “I don’t own the road either, but that doesn’t mean I want to share it.”

  —Words To Die By

  Anatoly showed up at my house an hour later. By that time Jack was screaming again. I hadn’t bothered calling Poison Control since, judging from the raw waste that he had pushed into his diaper, it seemed reasonable to assume that there was nothing left in his stomach to pump. I had gone through Leah’s things, and if something didn’t have a warning label on it, I offered it up. Nonetheless, apart from a brief interlude he had with a super-absorbent tampon, Jack was not to be appeased.

  Rather than help me, Anatoly seemed content to stand in the corner of the room and passively observe the execution of my nephew’s diabolical plot to drive me to the brink of insanity.

  “So, tell me what Charlie said again?” he asked, leaning his weight against the wall.

  “Anat
oly, look at me. It’s everything I can do to get a sentence out without this child yanking out another lock of my hair, and you actually have the nerve to ask me to repeat myself?”

  “I just want to make sure I have everything straight.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Unless, of course, you want to be taking care of this child on a full-time basis.”

  I shot him a lethal glare, then turned my attention to the phone that had begun to ring again. It occurred to me that Jack’s screams might have spurred one of my neighbors to call Child Protective Services. I snatched up the receiver. “Is this CPS?”

  “What?” Leah screeched. “Why would CPS be calling? What have you done to my child?”

  “Nothing bad, which speaks to my unbelievable level of self-restraint.” I mouthed the name Leah for Anatoly’s benefit.

  Anatoly pushed himself off the wall. “Ask her if she has any of Bob’s old credit card statements.”

  “Leah, do you have any of Bob’s credit card statements?”

  “No, Bob always shredded the bills after he paid them. Why is Jack screaming?”

  “I don’t know, maybe because he’s Jack.” I shook my head at Anatoly to indicate that Leah didn’t have what he wanted.

  “Have you tried feeding him?” Leah asked.

  “Of course I have!” I didn’t bother mentioning that her lipstick had been one of the items on the menu.

  “Has he been sticking his hand in his mouth? He was doing that a lot last night.”

  Anatoly waved his hand in the air to get my attention. “Ask her if Bob’s job ever required him to meet with out-of-town business associates.”

  I nodded at Anatoly and spoke into the receiver. “I haven’t noticed Jack putting his hand in his mouth, but he did try to bite my pinky off a few minutes ago. Leah, is there any chance that anyone Bob worked with would have stayed at the Gatsby?”

  “If that was the case, don’t you think I would have mentioned it when Charlie was telling us about the Brazilians? My husband didn’t have to entertain clients, he was a comptroller. The only business people he ever interacted with socially were his superiors who actually worked for Chalet. You know, maybe he’s teething.”

  “Who, Anatoly?”

  “No, Sophie—Jack. The pediatrician said that if Jack was teething I could give him some children’s Advil. I have a bottle in your bathroom but I don’t like to give it to him unless I’m sure.”

  “What are the side effects of the Advil?” I asked as I rescued a section of my hair from Jack’s clutches.

  “He tends to get rather drowsy and sedentary.”

  I covered the mouthpiece and turned to Anatoly. “Go to the bathroom and find the children’s Advil.” I gave him a shove down the hall.

  “Don’t give it to him now,” Leah continued. “I’ll be home in a little bit, and if he’s still cranky, then I’ll check his gums.”

  “Right.” Anatoly came back from the bathroom with the Advil and I immediately started pouring the purple fluid into the plastic measuring cup. “Whatever you say, Leah. When are you coming home, anyway?”

  “Well, Jerome and I are at my house.”

  I swallowed hard. “Please, please, please, tell me you’re not getting to know each other better.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m just walking him through the events of…that night.”

  “Great idea,” I said absently, as I pried Jack’s mouth open and coaxed him to take the Advil.

  “And after that, I’m going to show him some of the places Bob used to take me during our courtship. I’m going to walk him through our entire relationship so he can accurately relay the love Bob and I shared to his readers.”

  My heart dropped into my stomach. “I thought you were just going to be gone for the morning.”

  “Change of plans.”

  “Leah, you can’t do this to me.”

  “What? I’m sorry, but I think there’s something wrong with my phone—you’re cutting out.”

  “Leah…”

  “Nope, can’t hear you anymore. I’ll check in again in an hour or so. Ta!”

  “Leah!”

  At the sound of the dial tone I tore the phone from my ear and threw it across the room. “I can’t believe this! Leah doesn’t need to worry about going to prison—because I’m going to kill her!”

  Anatoly nodded distractedly. “So what did she say about Bob’s clients and colleagues?”

  “She has no reason to think that Bob would have been visiting anyone at the Gatsby, colleague or otherwise.” I used both hands to lift Jack so that he was eye to eye with me. His screams had been reduced to a peevish whine.

  “Sophie, I have to go,” Anatoly said.

  “What?” I put Jack down. “But you can’t leave me alone with this child! That would be…be…”

  “The way the cookie crumbles,” Anatoly finished. “I know this is difficult to believe, but I have a life outside this case.”

  “Excuse me, but twelve thousand dollars of my money says you don’t!”

  “I have errands to do and a few bills to pay. I’ll call you later in the day and we’ll do some more brainstorming.” He leaned down and gave Jack a playful punch on the arm that started him screaming again. “See you later, Jack. Have fun torturing your aunt.”

  I stood there with smoke coming out of my ears and watched as he walked out. Jack’s screams went up a notch in volume and I looked down at him sympathetically. “For once, I don’t blame you. I feel like screaming, too.”

  I picked the remote off the top of the television set and started flipping through the channels. Leah didn’t like Jack to watch TV, but I was past caring about her parental preferences. Besides, watching television had to be healthier than digesting cosmetics.

  Unfortunately, Jack wasn’t a big fan of Mr. Rogers or America’s Funniest Animals, and after a few other poorly received programming choices I was about ready to give up. And then I found it—the secret to domestic harmony right there on the Disney Channel. Five hyperactive Australians who called themselves The Wiggles were jumping around singing about fruit salad with a giant dog, and Jack was immediately transfixed. I sat down on the edge of a chair and waited for the spell to be broken—but Jack became more engrossed by the second.

  Mr. Katz peeked into the room to investigate. “I don’t know why, but he loves this show!” I explained to my clearly skeptical cat. I looked back at the screen and watched the brightly dressed men strike up a conversation with their door. “I wonder if you have to be a kid to really get this.”

  Mr. Katz didn’t seem to have an answer, so I let the question drop and grabbed a Corona from the refrigerator. I decided this was the perfect opportunity to sort through the shoe box of Bob’s life. Sitting down on the couch, with Jack in full view, I examined each dry cleaning receipt and parking stub in hopes of finding something useful. Perhaps he had parked somewhere unusual, like Brazil, for instance. But no such luck. I was about ready to give up when I found a torn-up scrap of paper. The words “Jan Le” and the numbers “517-8” were written on it. By the way the paper was torn it looked like “Le” was the first part of a last name. I rummaged through the box again to find the other torn pieces, but they weren’t there. Jan could be anyone—a mistress, a prospective employee, an exorcist, the possibilities were endless. There was no reason to think that this name had anything to do with the case.

  I got up and ripped out a blank piece of binder paper from a notebook I had resting by the phone. By the time the credits were rolling on The Wiggles Show, I had listed all the facts I had collected on the case so far. Despite my deep-seated desire to see Cheryl get her just desserts, my most likely suspects were still Taylor or Bianca. This Maria person was a possibility, but that piece of the puzzle didn’t fit as nicely as the others. And I couldn’t figure out how the floppy disk fit in at all. Mr. Katz was now sitting at my feet, eyeing Jack warily.

  “Bianca doesn’t have the temperament of a killer,” I said aloud. Jack ignored me, b
ut Mr. Katz was all ears. “Maybe I just haven’t been pushing the right buttons. Maybe if I piss her off, the bad Bianca will rear her ugly head.”

  Jack grinned at me. “Piss off!” he said proudly, then turned back to the show.

  “Shh! You shouldn’t say that,” I chastised while ducking my head down to hide my barely contained laughter.

  Jack giggled but kept his eyes trained to the television set. I put my virtually untouched beer down on the table with a solid thump and punched Bianca’s number into the phone.

  She answered on the fourth ring.

  “Hey, Bianca, it’s Sophie. Do you have a minute?”

  “More questions?” Her voice sounded weary.

  “Just a few. I talked to Taylor Blake yesterday and she admitted to having an affair with Bob.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  I sat up a little straighter. “You knew? For how long? Who told you?”

  “I’ve known for approximately fifteen minutes and it was Anatoly who told me.”

  “Anatoly called?”

  “He stopped by—you just missed him. I’ll tell you what I told him. I’ve only met Taylor once and I’ve never even heard of anyone named Maria Pizo—”

  “Souza.”

  “Whatever. All I know is that Bob would never cheat on me. He wasn’t capable of that kind of betrayal.”

  “Are you serious? He cheated on the mother of his son!”

  “But he didn’t love Leah. He did love me.”

  I scoffed. What she didn’t know about men could fill a concert hall. “Is your sister there to hear you spout this drivel?”

  “No, she left with Anatoly.”

  I froze. “Say that again.”

  “She left with Anatoly.” Bianca’s voice started to shake. “I know she—all of you think I’m being naive, but you didn’t see Bob and me together. We—”

  “Why the hell did she leave with Anatoly?” I asked.