A Dangerous Widow (Dangerous #1)

by Christina Ross

  “Cheers,” I said to Ben.

  “Cheers,” he said.

  I took a sip, and then wondered. “Have you ever had a martini before?”

  “No.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Then take a sip. And please don’t look at me like that. Just one sip—and then you’ll see that this cocktail was delivered to us from the heavens.”

  He smiled at me when I said that, and then he just shrugged and acquiesced. “I’ll only commit to one sip.”

  “Then make it a good one.”

  He did, and when he did, he screwed up his face. “Holy shit, that’s strong.”

  “What did you expect? It’s pure vodka.”

  “I might have to have a little talk with your liver later.”

  “She won’t hear of it.”

  “No wonder you’re in warrior mode tonight. That drink alone would drop anyone’s inhibitions.”

  “Consider it an acquired taste that I acquired years ago. I love them—but two is my limit. Otherwise—and you should know this going forward, Ben—if I even dared to have a third, I’d become one mother of a hot mess. And if that happens, think about what you’d have on your hands then.”

  “It’s not as if I haven’t seen you at your worst when it comes to having a bit too much to drink, Kate…”

  “What can I say? When we were young, you might have picked me off a floor or two. I’ll concede to that. I’ll own my shame. And by the way, if I didn’t thank you for that then, allow me to thank you for that now. Because I’m sure that whatever party we were at, you helped me make a graceful exit.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, and we both laughed. And after so much tension between us tonight, it was good to laugh with him again. Despite how we’d been thrown together again, it hadn’t escaped me that somehow, after all these years, it was still easy to talk with him. To be with him. The banter we once had hadn’t left us. It was still right there, a vague memory brought straight to the forefront as if no time has passed between us at all.

  And it was quickly growing deeper.

  “Kate?” a man’s voice said to my left.

  When I turned with Ben, I faced Eli Rosenberg, a well-known reporter from the Times. I’d known Eli for years, reaching way back to the days with Michael when StoneTech had become such a force that we suddenly found ourselves being invited to parties such as this. Eli was a stylish, good-looking gentleman somewhere in his late sixties who covered the society pages for the Times. I knew from reading his column after all these years that there were those whom he disliked, and those whom he championed. For reasons unknown to me, he’d always championed me.

  “Eli,” I said as I reached up to kiss him on each cheek. “I haven’t seen you in months. I think the last time was when you covered the last big Red Cross event. It’s so good to see you.”

  “You look lovely,” he said. “And I have to say that that’s some dress. You know I need to ask who you’re wearing.”

  “Valentino.”

  “I thought so. And it’s magnificent.”

  “Off the rack,” I said.

  He raised his eyebrows at me. “You don’t say? Well, you’d never know it, because it looks anything but.”

  “And you certainly look sharp,” I said as I stood back to look at him. “But when don’t you? How have you become more handsome than the first day we met?”

  “Eating well? Exercise?” He rolled his eyes at me. “Please, let’s just face it—all of that, plus a heaping dose of Botox.”

  “Good for you. Because, believe me, when it’s my time for the Botox boxcar to arrive on my doorstep, I’m so getting in.”

  “Who knew that a lethal poison such as botulism could be turned into a youth-giving miracle?” he said.

  “And who even cares? Let’s just be happy that it was. I mean, look at you. Unlike so many people around us, you haven’t gone too far. You’ve just smoothed everything out.”

  “God, I’ve missed you, Kate, especially your frankness, your lack of judgment, and your willingness to have fun. Covering this circuit has been boring without you in the mix. So many of them are so damned stiff.”

  “I’ve also missed you, Eli. But before we go any further, I should introduce you to Ben Cade,” I said, motioning toward Ben as the two men shook hands. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ben.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Eli.”

  “Knowing Kate as I do, I’m certain that she chose well after Michael. I hope that you’ll come to see me as a friend just as Kate does.”

  “I’m sure that I will.”

  For a moment, Eli looked uncomfortable, and then he just sighed. “And about that,” he said. “About Michael. Kate, you know why I’ve come over.”

  “Let’s just say that I have a feeling that it has nothing to do with my dress or with any mentions of Botox.”

  “It doesn’t—though I do love the dress. And I’m beyond thrilled to see you. Still, while I don’t normally find myself in situations such as this, I’m nevertheless a journalist, so if you’re willing, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  Eli Rosenberg and I weren’t friends on a personal level, but we certainly were on a professional one. And that relationship was one of the main reasons he was soft-balling this situation right now. If he were anyone else—such as a reporter from the Daily News or the Post—he would have just gone straight in for the kill and tried to catch me off guard with a blizzard of questions. But that wasn’t who Eli was, which was one of the many reasons why I admired him so much.

  “It’s OK, Eli,” I said. “I know what this is about. You can ask me whatever you want.”

  From his pants pocket, he removed a small, digital recording device and showed it to me. “I need you to understand that this will be on record,” he said.

  “I understand that.”

  “Are you ready to talk?”

  “I am.”

  “I’m about to press the button,” he warned.

  I put my hand on his arm and said, “Press it.”

  As he pressed a button on the recorder, I saw a tiny red light appear on the top of it, and then Eli held it discreetly in front of his chest, likely so that as few people as possible would know that he was interviewing me.

  “From what I’ve been hearing, tonight you apparently made a few candid remarks to Bill and Maxine Witherhouse, which have since turned this room on its side. Everyone is talking about what you presumably said. What I want to know is if you, in fact, said anything at all.”

  Eli had been so good to me over the years that he deserved for me to be as straight with him as I could be. Not only because I liked and respected him, but also because I knew that right now I was in the very best of hands.

  “You’re talking about my suspicions surrounding Michael’s death?”

  “I am. Would you care to elaborate on them?”

  “For you, I will.”

  “I believe that Michael has been dead for five years. Am I right about that?”

  “You are.”

  “Then I have to ask, Kate—why are you questioning his death now? Everyone knows that it was ruled an accident. Anyone who knows you or knows of you will never forget that Michael fell down that staircase because your dog rushed him. It was a freak accident. What’s changed your mind to make you think that it might have been something else?”

  If I told him that it had been a psychic that had led me down this road, I’d lose all credibility with him and with the rest of the world. So, I decided to remain as vague as possible—while nevertheless baiting the hook.

  “A recent series of events that I can’t discuss for personal and private reasons have led me to believe otherwise. And believe me, Eli, if I could discuss those reasons with you now, I would, if only because I know that you wouldn’t turn them into something scandalous. That’s just not who you are. But since I can’t
go into detail just yet, I hope that you’ll understand why I can’t. Right now, I can’t show my hand, because, if I do, it could reveal too much at the wrong moment.”

  “All right…”

  “What I can tell you is that Ben is a former SEAL turned private investigator. When the idea that Michael might have been murdered came to my attention, I hired Ben. We’ve been looking into his death for the past few months.”

  “How did the idea that Michael may have been murdered come to your attention?”

  “Through a friend.”

  “Can you offer a name?”

  “To protect that person, I can’t.”

  “What have you learned so far from the investigation?”

  “I can only say that I’ve learned enough to go forward with the investigation.”

  “Where is the investigation at this point?”

  “We’re narrowing in on a potential suspect.”

  When I said that, I could sense Ben bristling beside me. I hadn’t brought up a suspect until that moment, and now I’d done so with the New York Times, of all publications. Later, he’d have at me for that, but since I was impatient when it came to all of this, I nevertheless thought it was the right thing to do, if only to step things up and potentially put an end to this.

  “A suspect?” Eli repeated.

  “A potential suspect. Or, to be honest here, several potential suspects. It’s still too soon to tell.”

  “But why come out with this now?” he said. “Why go public with it? If any of this is true, you know that you’re only putting yourself at risk. There could be repercussions for what you’ve made public—specifically, your own life could be at risk. Certainly you know that.”

  “Of course I do. And because of that, I have a team of bodyguards in place that protect me 24/7.”

  “Are any of them here with you now?”

  If I said that there were, he’d just fact check it with Maxine and find out that I was lying. So, I told the truth.

  “Ben is with me now. I’d say that a former SEAL with two tours of duty in Afghanistan behind him is enough to keep me safe for tonight. But the rest of my team is just outside, waiting for us to leave. They protect me wherever I go.”

  “Kate, off the record, what’s the point of going public with this?”

  “To end it,” I said.

  “You want to draw a potential murderer toward you?”

  “Still off the record?”

  “Yes.”

  “I do. We have a plan. And if any of this is true, that plan will bring this person to justice.”

  “For the record, what else would you like to say?”

  “If someone did murder Michael, I have the means and the resources to root them out and make them pay for what they did to him. On the other hand, if Michael’s death was, in fact, an accident, which I hope to God it was, then this investigation has all been for naught. What it comes down to is this, Eli—even after all the years that have passed since Michael’s death, I owe it to him to find out if there’s any truth behind what I’ve learned. If nothing’s there, fine—I’ll just move on with my life knowing that it was an accident. But if it was murder? I can promise you this—Ben and I will ensure that Michael receives the justice that he deserves. My only goal here is to get to the truth. What I can promise you now is that I’m working hard to make that happen.”

  He switched off his recorder when I said that, and then he hugged me.

  “Thank you for being so candid. And, Kate, know that I’m with you on this—despite my fears about how you’re handling the situation. Because when this hits the Internet by night’s end and the papers by tomorrow morning, I’ll be worried as hell about you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Like I said, I have a team in place.”

  “No disrespect to Ben or to anyone on your team, but no one is infallible, Kate. We’re all human. Mistakes can and will be made.”

  “Put yourself in my shoes, Eli—what would you do if you were in my position? Just stand back and do nothing? Or, if you were madly in love with someone as I was with Michael, and new information came to light about that person’s death, would you just ignore it? Or would you fight it? If any of this is true, I have to get to the bottom of it. Even if it does cost me my life. That’s how serious I am. That’s how much I loved him.”

  “And I respect you even more because of it,” he said. “You’ve always been formidable, Kate. And now you’ve proved just how formidable and daring you really are. I don’t know when we’ll see each other again, but know that I’ll be thinking about you and wishing you the best. You’ve always been one of the good ones, you know. Zero pretension. A genuinely kind person. I don’t often come upon that. But several years I ago, I did with you. I’ve never forgotten our first meeting, and all the fun we’ve had since then. So, I will report on this, and I’ll do my best to assist you in your quest with all of the facts that I have on hand.”

  “I appreciate that, Eli. You’ve always been kind to me.”

  He looked at Ben.

  “Keep her as safe as you can,” he said. “Because soon, everything is going to change. I’m not the only one who has been wanting to have at her. Along my periphery, I can see my colleagues from the Daily News and the Post just waiting for their chance. But I doubt that they’ll have Kate’s best interests at heart as I do. It’s just not who they are.”

  “I’ll be fine, Eli,” I said to him.

  But when he didn’t answer me—when I saw what looked like real fear and concern in his eyes—I knew that he didn’t believe me.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  By the time Ben and I left the party, I’d been interviewed by a number of media outlets, including the Daily News and the Post, and I’d achieved what I’d wanted.

  Soon, I would become the news. And so, if Michael had been murdered, it would only be a matter of time before someone would try to shut me down to keep me from finding out who was responsible for his death. Before that happened, Ben and I—along with whatever security team he had in mind—would strategize about how best to go forward with our effort to trap the killer.

  Was I frightened? A part of me was. But there was a larger part of me that was determined to give Michael his justice. I had meant what I’d said to Ben—if any of this was true, I’d be damned if Michael’s killer got to continue to walk free. Some might consider my actions reckless—including Ben and Eli—but I had to believe that those people had never had the kind of love that Michael and I had once shared together.

  “I should stay with you tonight,” Ben said when we stepped into the limousine waiting for us outside the Witherhouses’ mansion.

  “You should what?”

  “Stay with you.”

  “Ben, I know that things heated up between us tonight, but I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I should stay with you to make sure that you’re safe.”

  “But I live at the San Remo,” I said as my chauffeur closed the door behind us and then stepped behind the wheel. “Nothing is going to happen to me there.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because so many celebrities live there—and, hell, even a prince lives there. That place is designed to be a fortress, and believe me, we pay a premium to be as well protected as we are.”

  “Are the security guards who protect the San Remo armed?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Well, that’s some fortress, isn’t it? So, let me stay in one of your extra bedrooms. Given what I saw, you probably have a suite of them.”

  As the car lurched into motion and moved down the street, I looked out my window and felt my pulse quicken. “There are five bedrooms other than mine.”

  “Then put me in one of them. Tomorrow morning, we’ll have coffee, we’ll assess the papers together, and then we’ll take to the Internet to see what the other media outlets are saying. You
’ve done what you set out to accomplish tonight, Kate, and now it’s time for you to follow through with your promise to let me take over. When I assemble a team to cover you—which will happen quickly—I’ll start looking into Mark Dodd, as well as Bill and Maxine Witherhouse. What I’m also going to need from you is a list of all of the people we spoke to tonight. Not the press—but your former friends.”

  “None of them are my friends. They’re just people that I used to know.”

  “I still need their names.”

  “I’ll get them to you.”

  “I’m staying with you tonight, Kate. Don’t fight me on this.”

  I lived in a six-bedroom penthouse, and several of the other bedrooms were far and away from my own bedroom. In fact, two of them were on the second floor while the master was on the third.

  “You really think that’s necessary?”

  “Why are you giving me push-back on this?”

  Because I’m still attracted to you, Ben. Because I haven’t forgotten who we once were. Because when you first kissed me tonight, I felt something in that kiss, and that feeling has only intensified as the evening has worn on. I’m not sure that I trust myself around you—especially when it comes to you sleeping over.

  “I don’t mean to,” I said.

  “Then I take one of the bedrooms so I can make sure that you’re safe tonight, and we assess the papers and the rest of the situation in the morning. OK?”

  “OK,” I said reluctantly.

  * * *

  When we arrived at my apartment, I tossed my purse onto the foyer’s side table and kicked my heels beneath it.

  “I hate wearing heels,” I said.

  “Since when? I remember you wearing them in high school…”

  “Back in the day, my heels came from Payless, and because they were so cheaply made, they were far more forgiving than anything from Dior.”