Josie tapped her forehead with her finger. “I’m crazy, not dead. Where is she?”
“The two-top over by the travel books. I’ll be by in a few to get your orders.” He winked at her before rushing off with his deliveries. Josie walked across the length of the café and approached Ann-Marie’s table. She also had the long shiny dark hair that seemed to be characteristic of this tribe of women, but hers was piled on top of her head, held there by an invisible device that was doing a miserable job of keeping everything in place. Tendrils fell haphazardly, as if she’d been interrupted on moving day and was about to blow the hair out of her eyes. She turned her head as Josie approached, watching her warily.
“Ann-Marie?” Josie said.
Ann-Marie rose from the table and kept rising until she towered over Josie by a head. She was six feet, at least, and model thin. As they shook hands, Josie saw the bony wrist, the fingers with the prominent knuckles. She also saw the blue jeans Ann-Marie wore were covered in smears of paint.
“Are you an artist?” Josie asked, settling into her chair. She brought her notebook out, which only increased the spooked look in Ann-Marie’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said, ignoring the question. “I really don’t understand what we’re doing here. I’ve already talked to the police.”
“I’m not with the police. I’ve been hired to find out if the police arrested the right person.”
She looked surprised at this. “Why would anyone want to keep this mess alive? It’s been horrifying enough.” She swept the hair off her face and squinted at Josie.
Casey appeared at their table with a big smile on his face. He turned to Ann-Marie. “Welcome to Kopi. Any friend of Josie’s and all that. Can I get you some wine? Something sweet? Something warm?”
Ann-Marie seemed to relax a little. “I’ll have a green tea, please.”
“Usual for you, Josie?”
“I think only the coffee this time, Casey.” Ridiculously, she thought she’d be judged by Ann-Marie if a giant scone was dropped in front of her. It looked like Ann-Marie disapproved of eating in general.
“As I was saying,” Josie said, “I’ve been hired to see if the murderer was someone other than Lauren, or whether the evidence continues to point to Lauren. She can’t be retried for the same crime, as you probably know.”
“Yes.” Ann-Marie was studying the scratches in the old wooden table, running her thumb along them. “I don’t see what I can add to the investigation.”
“Maybe it would be best for you to tell me what happened with you and Kelly, and then I can get your opinion on whether Lauren did it or not,” Josie said, prodding the conversation along.
Casey delivered their drinks and Ann-Marie spent time dipping her tea bag up and down, up and down into her cup. If Josie watched too much longer she’d be hypnotized.
“I hate telling this story. I feel a lot of shame about it,” Ann-Marie said.
Josie leaned forward and lowered her voice. “A year ago I was on a marathon of mortifying behavior. I could be an exhibit in the Shame Museum. There’s nothing you can say that will make me judge you.”
Ann-Marie returned Josie’s steady gaze and gave her the smallest of smiles. “I doubt that, but I’ll tell you what I can. Gabby, my partner, joined a book club Lauren was in, and she wanted me to be in it with her. We often met at Lauren and Kelly’s house, and that’s where it started.
“It was quickly apparent Kelly was not a big reader,” Ann-Marie continued. “She never contributed to the discussion. She kept bouncing out of her seat to leave the room. When she returned she looked like she’d never been so bored in her life. I started to notice she was giving me the eye. You know, sweeping me top to bottom, very slowly, with the touch of a smile on her lips. At first I felt a little excited about it. Who doesn’t want to be admired? But I was nervous Gabby and Lauren would see what she was doing. I think it was Kelly’s brazenness that partly attracted me.”
“So how did it move out of the book club?” Josie listened closely. Being with all of these women over the past few days was starting to wake the sleeping giant—her libido—which in the past had known no settings other than absent and superhuman. She was getting hints of something in between.
Ann-Marie took a sip of tea. “I was at Tillie’s one night with my friend Anya, and Kelly was there with a group of her friends. Lauren wasn’t there and Gabby was working that night. Kelly kept checking me out from the other end of the bar. Eventually she came over to me, and Anya left to talk to some other people. And there it was. We talked for a bit about our partners. I complained about Gabby working evenings and never being around to do things together. Kelly said Lauren always worked a lot, but she didn’t mind. It was what made her family’s business successful and you could tell Kelly was all for that. She did complain Lauren had recently been acting very oddly. She seemed very distracted and uncomfortable and Kelly was beginning to wonder if Lauren was having an affair.”
Ann-Marie shifted in her seat. “It didn’t take long before I agreed to leave the bar with her, though the story doesn’t sound like much of a seduction. Let’s say Kelly has a way of drawing you in, and I was clearly game for it. We had to go to a hotel because both of us were living with our partners. Even now I can’t quite believe I did it. I’d been with Gabby for ten years, and I slept with another woman as if it were nothing.”
“Why Kelly?”
Ann-Marie laughed, which surprised Josie. “Probably because she was the only one who’d ever propositioned me in those ten years. I think what the fling with Kelly taught me was my relationship with Gabby was in trouble. I hadn’t been happy with her for some time.”
Josie thought this would all have made a terrific lesbian soap opera if there weren’t a real murder involved.
“How many times were you with Kelly?”
Ann-Marie winced at the question. “Maybe eight? We had fun and the sex was great and all the while I felt terrible about it. I got into that mentality of ‘one more time can’t hurt.’ It was Kelly who put a stop to it. She called not long before she was murdered to tell me we wouldn’t be seeing each other again.”
Ann-Marie concentrated on her tea. “I don’t know if I would have put a stop to it myself. Gabby was clueless, which shouldn’t have surprised me. Still, it was wrong to betray her like that. I told her about it after Lauren was arrested, since I knew the story would come out before long. Either in the news or at Tillie’s. She was bound to hear.”
“And what was her reaction?” Josie said.
“Unequivocal. I was told to pack and get out.” Ann-Marie made it sound like she’d gotten exactly what she’d deserved.
“Where did you go?”
“I grabbed a few things and went to my sister’s in the West Loop.”
Josie wrote a few notes while Casey came by to warm up their drinks. “You girls look like you’re discussing famine in Africa. How can I cheer you up?”
They both looked blankly at him until he walked away, with a small smile aimed at Josie.
Josie turned to Ann-Marie. “I have a few more questions for you now, but I may have more later. First, how did you feel about Kelly’s death?”
“Shocked, of course. The murder of someone you know is the last thing you expect to happen. Kelly and I’d been intimate, at least physically. I can’t say I really knew her at all. I guess I’d say I was surprised and saddened, but not grief stricken. And part of me—the old Catholic schoolgirl part—couldn’t help think God had delivered punishment for our sin. But why her and not me, I couldn’t say.”
“How likely do you think it is Lauren murdered Kelly?” Josie said.
“I honestly have no idea. When Kelly called me late to end the affair, she said Lauren had found out about us a few days before and had just that day decided to try to make their relationship work. Kelly sounded hugely relieved and said she wouldn’t jeopardize it again by being unfaithful. Who knows if she would’ve held to that, but she sure meant it that nig
ht. Why would Lauren murder Kelly when she’d decided to make a go of it? On the other hand, it wasn’t the first time Kelly had cheated. Maybe Lauren snapped.”
“Where were you the evening Kelly was murdered?”
Ann-Marie looked startled. “The police asked me the same thing, which I assume is standard. Do you have reason for suspecting me?”
“It’s standard for private investigators also. Where were you, let’s say from late afternoon through late evening that day?”
“I was teaching in the afternoon. I’m on the adjunct faculty at the Art Institute. Then I went to my sister’s and spent the evening there. I don’t remember if she or her husband were there when I arrived.”
“What time did you leave work and what time did you get home?” Josie had her pen poised over her notebook.
“I left after four, I’m not sure exactly when, and I stopped at a grocery before getting home.”
“Which grocery?”
Ann-Marie looked flustered. “The police didn’t ask me all these questions.”
“Well, I’m not here to comment on the police investigation. Which grocery?”
“The Mariano’s on South Halsted.”
“Did you charge the groceries or keep a receipt?” Josie said.
“Jesus.” Ann-Marie scrubbed at her face. “I’m sure I charged them. Do I need to dig up the information online?”
“It might be helpful. What’d you do after the grocery?”
“I cooked dinner for my sister’s family and spent the rest of the evening there.” She stood to leave and Josie asked for her sister’s phone number as well as Gabby’s. She hesitated before giving it.
“Did you go out at any point?”
“I said I was there for the evening.” She didn’t hide how impatient she was to leave.
Josie wrote the information down and closed her notebook. “Please don’t take any of this personally,” she said. “I’m doing my job.”
Ann-Marie looked down at her. “I suppose.”
With that she walked away. Josie signaled Casey and ordered her scone. She was going to have to start tacking things up on a murder board in her office.
Chapter Twelve
Lauren picked her book up and set it down again. She went to the kitchen and started unloading the dishwasher and stopped halfway. She walked to the sliding glass door leading to her backyard and stared out. The twilight was darkening its edges. Her perennials needed attention. The garden used to be the part of the house where she was able to relax and be active at the same time. Digging and weeding had been welcome tasks; now she couldn’t care less. She sat back on the sofa and picked up the book.
Her thoughts drifted to Cory. Her mind had been blank during their few hours together. Was that what made people sex addicts—arousal and orgasm being a sort of oblivion? She was entirely willing to become a sex addict if it would keep her from crawling out of her skin, or worse, giving up altogether on her parents. She picked up the stilettos that still lay where she had tossed them that morning and pulled out the stockings in the left shoe. A note fell to the floor, with Cory’s name and number on it. She called the number.
“I found your number in my shoe,” Lauren said. “At least I’m hoping it’s yours.”
“Helen?” Cory said.
Lauren blanched at hearing her mother’s name. Using it in pursuit of sex seemed entirely wrong.
“Yes. I wanted to thank you for taking such good care of me last night.”
Cory talked over the noise in the background. It sounded like she was in a bar. “It was my pleasure, honestly. Are you okay today?”
Lauren paused. “I’m a little lonely.”
Cory had moved somewhere quieter. She was probably at Tillie’s. “Are you at the house I dropped you at this morning?”
“Yes, it’s my home.”
“I can be there in fifteen minutes,” Cory said. She sounded eager, excited. Young.
“No, it’s better at your place.” Lauren imagined Tim bursting through her bedroom door or, worse, monitoring the action from his CCTV command post. “But, Cory? Same rules apply. No questions about what I was doing last night or anything else. Think of it like Last Tango in Paris.”
“What?”
She wasn’t surprised Cory didn’t get the reference. She was much younger and probably no film buff. “It’s a film about two lovers who don’t exchange names. They’re completely anonymous to each other.”
Cory hesitated. “Well, we already know each other’s names, but I think I catch your drift. I’d still like you to come over.”
“See you in a bit.”
She dressed and brushed her hair. In the mirror she saw her pallid complexion and the bags under her eyes, but she didn’t put makeup on. This was all about her, not how anyone else perceived her. The need to claim some small bit of control over her life was driving her, and her sharp arousal was a surprise. Within a minute of walking through Cory’s door, Lauren led her to the bedroom and pushed her down on the bed. She stripped out of her pants and before even kissing her she straddled Cory’s face and lowered herself, holding onto the headboard.
“Make me come,” Lauren said, her eyes closed as she moved against Cory’s tongue. She’d never done anything as bold, as lewd. She felt she would explode in an instant, so she slowed down, moving evenly as Cory tried to match her pace. She looked down and saw Cory’s startled eyes looking back at her, turning hungry as their gaze held. She brought her hands to Lauren’s hips and held her in place as she used her tongue with focus and speed and considerable skill. Soon Lauren grabbed the headboard with both hands as she came and came and came.
She lay next to Cory, stunned by the intensity of her orgasm. Perhaps if she’d gathered together all of the orgasms she’d experienced with Kelly and turned them into one, it would have been half as powerful as the orgasm she’d just had. Maybe. She watched impassively as Cory pulled her T-shirt over her head, yanked off her pants, and then turned to Lauren to unbutton her shirt and unhook her bra. She started to lie on top of her.
“Hold on a sec,” Lauren said, blocking Cory with her arm. “That about crippled me.”
Cory looked her in the eye. “I remembered who you are,” Cory said.
“What?” Lauren didn’t approve of the choice of pillow talk.
“All last night I kept thinking you were familiar, especially after your makeup was off, and it came to me this morning. You’re the chick who was accused of murdering her girlfriend.”
Lauren stared at her for a long moment, trying to imagine what Cory thought about a possibly murderous publishing heiress who dresses like a whore to pick up women in bars. She started laughing.
Cory looked at her warily. “Should I be worried?”
“Do you really think I could get the advantage of you? You look like much more of a threat than I do.”
“I can take care of myself,” Cory said evenly.
“See? And don’t forget our rules. The anonymity thing is blown, but I don’t want any questions. I have much bigger plans for our time together.”
Cory leaned over to kiss Lauren, draping herself over Lauren’s long thigh and starting to move against her. Lauren could feel moisture spread over her skin and she lifted her thigh to give Cory more traction. As Cory started pushing faster, Lauren stared at the ceiling, plotting exactly how she’d have Cory bring her to at least two more orgasms and then how she’d slip away home. She felt like a chess player, three steps ahead of her opponent and in total control. It was thrilling.
Chapter Thirteen
Of the many gaping holes in Kelly Moore’s skimpy police file, the absence of any interviews with Lauren Wade’s family seemed the most curious. The detective’s interview with Lauren after her arrest was there, so Josie knew what Lauren had said, or, more accurately, not said at the time of her arrest. But nothing from the parents or brother. Bev’s notes indicated Lauren and Tim’s parents were sailing around the world, according to people in their Gold Coast high-r
ise. A neighbor there said he hadn’t seen them for months, the doorman said he’d been collecting their mail for a long time, and the property manager said their monthly assessments were being paid so she really didn’t care where they were.
Apparently the parents were incommunicado. Bev’s notes indicated the detectives couldn’t find the brother either. Kelly’s parents had told them Lauren had a brother, but they didn’t know him. Clearly no extensive effort had been made to find him. Once the case was in the hands of the state’s attorney, the motivation seemed to drain right out of the detectives assigned to the case, except for Bev, who had very little influence as the junior member on the team. And she was kept too busy to poke around on a case that had at least unofficially been closed.
Josie found Tim Wade with a simple search on Google. Digging a little deeper, she was able to come up with his home address. She was beginning to think homicide detectives were not the stars she always thought they were.
She didn’t bother calling for an appointment with him. She showed up at Tim’s Lincoln Park house late on Sunday afternoon and he answered the door without hesitation. He didn’t even ask who she was before he started talking to her about the Bears and how humiliating their loss that afternoon had been. He was dressed in cut-off khaki Dockers, a huge Bears jersey, orange tube socks, and navy blue sneakers. It wasn’t what she expected the scion of a publishing company to look like. Even more confusing was his expensive haircut and sharply handsome face. None of it integrated in any way. He seemed to see the confusion on her face.
“I always dress like this during a game. It’s a lucky-charm thing.” Josie listened for other people in the house, maybe other nerdy guys he was watching the game with. All was silent. “I suppose I should ask who you are,” he said.
Josie explained what she’d been hired to do and asked if she could talk with him about his sister.
“Of course,” he said. “Let me get changed and we’ll have some coffee.” She perched on a stool at the breakfast bar to wait. Josie didn’t know much about high end anything, but she knew that refrigerators wide enough to hold a baby elephant were owned by the wealthy, not by the bungalow class. The range looked like the kind they used on the cooking shows on TV. Everything was sparkling clean.
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