by Arlene Kay
“Cut it out, you guys. Think of CeCe.” I folded my arms, summoned my meanest frown, and waved the printout at them. “According to these condo rules, they keep that rooftop locked. Only tenants can access it.”
That stopped both combatants. They rolled apart, gasping for breath as my words sunk in. CeCe must have been meeting someone; otherwise she couldn’t have accessed the roof. She’d hardly choose that spot to end her life on the off chance that it would be unlocked.
Deming sat up as the message sunk in.
Jem did the same. “Hold on! She wasn’t meeting me. I can prove where I was Sunday morning.” His confidence faltered as he met Deming’s murderous glance.
“Oh, yeah?” I said. “Where were you? Put up or shut up.”
Deming said nothing. He seemed to know the answer already.
Jem stood up, adjusted his clothes, and turned away. “I was with someone. A girl.”
I knew immediately it was the truth. No sane man would invent that story with Deming’s punishing fists nearby. “Who is this . . . woman?”
He shrugged. “You don’t know her. It doesn’t matter anyway. I didn’t hurt CeCe.”
Deming straightened his jacket and nodded to me. “Come on, Eja. We’re out of here.”
“Wait!” Jem Russell held out his hand. “I want to help. I’ll do anything. Please.”
Before Deming hustled me out the door, I locked eyes with Jem. “I’ll call you.”
Eight
WE RODE IN silence to the lobby, each of us absorbed in our thoughts. Deming’s mood was turbulent. There’d be hell to pay if Cato had munched on the Porsche’s leather seats for a breakfast snack. Luckily, we found the little devil nestled in the backseat sound asleep.
“Not your finest hour,” I told Deming, “although CeCe would have loved seeing you roll around the floor with Jem. What were you thinking?”
His eyes narrowed as he spit out a response. “I don’t regret one thing. Mind your own business.”
I fastened the seat belt, trying mightily to contain my rage. “You don’t get it! This is my business. I’m part of this, whether you like it or not. Deal with it.”
“You are the most stubborn woman . . .” Deming started a rant that lasted for two blocks.
“What next?” I asked, with my sweetest smile.
His expression hinted that he planned to dump Cato and me at the earliest opportunity. “I’ll drop you off. I’m meeting Jake for lunch.”
“No problem,” I said. “I’m starving.”
“You aren’t up to it,” he said, clutching the steering wheel. “Jake’s got the preliminary autopsy findings for us. I can’t have you causing a scene in the restaurant.”
“I promise. No scene. It’s early yet, anyway. Let’s drop Cato off with Jaime.”
Deming stared at me with menace in those hazel eyes. “My mom told you, didn’t she? I guess you’ll be moving in there soon, taking this mutt with you.”
The anger in his voice surprised me.
“I . . . I didn’t ask for anything, Deming. Why? Does that bother you so much? I’m not trying to take her place.”
“I know.” He shook himself. “Don’t mind me, Eja. Losing her . . . it’s like a knife in my gut. Twins are part of each other. Another self.”
It was unsettling to witness such naked vulnerability. For a moment I feared that Deming might weep, but by the time he swung into the driveway of the Tudor, he was as stoic as ever.
“Give him to me. I’ll find Jaime.” He reached into the backseat for Cato’s lead.
I said nothing, but Cato had other ideas. He lunged at Deming, leaving a vicious tear in his fine leather jacket. Perhaps Cato was also acting out his grief. From the string of curses Deming hurled at the spaniel, he wasn’t buying that excuse. Leave it to CeCe to find a one-woman dog with a bad attitude.
He took his sweet time situating Cato. I leaned back and rested my eyes, envisioning the battle plan we’d crafted last night. Our lunch with Jake would provide vital information. Like it or not, we’d know how CeCe died. Why she died was another matter entirely. Was Jem telling the truth, or had he lured CeCe to that rooftop? He was a lying, cheating cretin, but try as I might, I couldn’t conjure up a motive. Jem hoped to worm money out of CeCe, and knowing her kind heart, he probably would have succeeded. In that scenario, killing the golden goose made no sense. Unless—was it possible? With his track record, Jem Russell was the perfect patsy. Had someone set him up?
I screamed as a hand touched my arm. I hadn’t seen or heard Deming until he was sitting next to me. Maybe I’d done more dozing than planning. “Ready?” I asked. “Cato’s okay, I presume.”
He grunted and aimed the Porsche toward Arlington Street. Against all odds, Deming snagged a parking space across from Legal Sea Foods. I love the place, but it seemed an unlikely choice for the elegant Mr. Swann. He’s more a Clio kind of guy.
“Yum,” I said. “I love the bluefish here. They do it in this mustard dill sauce that . . .”
Deming yawned. His rudeness was nothing new, although it seemed wildly at odds with the spurts of tenderness I’d just witnessed. In a way, it was comforting: I understood this version of my childhood nemesis. That other guy, gentle and loving, was a total stranger.
He swung his long legs out of the Porsche and sped over to the passenger side.
“Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Do I have to carry you?”
“Don’t bother. I’m fine, thank you very much.” I straightened my shoulders and launched toward the restaurant at a dignified trot. A long line of hungry patrons had already queued up in the waiting area, but Jake Harris was nowhere to be seen. Deming glided to the front desk and conferred with the hostess. Despite groans and glares from the masses, we were immediately ushered to a choice booth where Dr. Jake Harris sat.
“Hey, Dem,” Jake said. His dark eyes lit up when he saw me, and he rose immediately. “Eja, what a treat! Dem didn’t tell me you’d be here.”
Dr. Jacob Harris was quite a hottie. He was Deming’s height with a broad build that was more football than fencing. His hair fell in soft ringlets that framed a smiling face with perfect white teeth.
“Ignore her, Jake. She’s just an observer.” Deming laced his hands around a steaming cup of tea and cautiously sipped. He plunged into the fray as soon as we ordered.
“Well. Did you get anything?”
Jake lowered his eyes. “Yes.” He withdrew a folder from his briefcase and hesitated.
“It isn’t easy to hear. Try to pretend it’s some television show.” He took a deep breath and read the information in a dry doctor’s voice. “Okay. Official cause of death is the hard part. There’s a lot of medical gobbledygook that precedes the final conclusion.”
Deming clutched his fork as if it were a weapon. “Go on. Massive trauma or something like that. I can take it.”
“That’s just the thing.” Jake paused. “CeCe didn’t die from the fall.”
Despite my promise to Deming, I felt a flush that went all the way from my toes to my head. Don’t faint, Eja. Remain calm.
“What are you saying?” Deming croaked. “That must be a mistake.”
Jake shook his head. “No. CeCe was dead before she fell. The police are on that rooftop right now, looking for forensic evidence. Your sister was murdered, Dem.”
“Murdered!” Deming shuddered as his friend continued reading the report.
“Of course, they’ll do toxicological tests, but that won’t change anything.” Jake’s warm brown eyes oozed compassion. “Someone must have lured her there to kill her.”
“That explains a lot,” I said in a small voice that even I didn’t recognize. “I knew she wouldn’t harm herself.”
Deming seemed stunned, his eyes glazed and unfocused. He stood abruptly, upending his wat
er glass. “My parents. Do they know?”
Jake shrugged. “I think that lieutenant—Euphemia Bates—was on her way over.”
“I’ve got to go. Take Eja home, will you?” Deming staggered toward the exit, oblivious to everything.
I pushed back my chair, preparing to follow until Jake Harris stopped me with a gentle touch.
“Let him go, Eja. It won’t do any good when he’s like this. Better that we finish our lunch and plan our next move.”
“But . . .”
He was right. I knew it, but I still felt guilty. CeCe blamed it on the nuns. They loved inducing guilt in their hapless charges. Thrived on it.
“Were there pictures? Of the roof, I mean, not CeCe.”
“Some. Enough to prove that no one could fall accidentally. A mesh fence borders the edge of the roof. It’s at least three feet high. Too high for any accidental fall.”
I mouthed a silent prayer of thanks that my friend had been spared the worst. At least she didn’t feel the terror of falling into space. That was a blessing. It wouldn’t take much to push CeCe’s willowy form over the ledge. A man, even a strong woman could do it. Jem Russell’s bright eyes flashed in my mind. He was more likely to charm a woman to death than murder her. Still, Jem was a taker, ruthless in his own way. Maybe she’d turned him down. Maybe he’d lost his temper. Lots of maybes and no certainty.
“What about her shrink?” I asked. “Wesley Townsend, that’s it. Anika said he’s some type of family friend.”
Jake gave me that neutral look that they must bottle and sell at med school. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Eja. I’m not sure what help he’d be.”
I finished my bluefish, taking care to wipe dill sauce from the corners of my mouth. Hottie or not, Dr. Jacob Harris was a royal pain. Surely, a graduate of Harvard Medical School wasn’t this obtuse. Was he pretending for some reason?
“Listen, Jake. Let’s get one thing straight. We can’t afford to wait for the cops, or to stand on ceremony with anyone. For all we know, this Townsend might be Raven. Maybe CeCe dumped him, or threatened him with a restraining order. Maybe he’s a quack.”
Suddenly he laughed. Dr. Jacob Harris guffawed so loudly that heads turned. “You are really something. Cecilia was lucky to have a friend as loyal as you. Anyone would be.”
He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I get the message, okay? I don’t know this guy Townsend personally, only by reputation. He’s solid. Well respected. How about this? I’ll do some digging. Talk with some of the guys I went to med school with who might know him. You need ammunition before you tackle him. Okay?”
“It’ll have to be.” I gathered my things as Jake paid the bill. “Can you drop me off at the Swanns’ house? If not, I’ll grab a cab.”
“No problem. I plan to pop in there anyhow to see how Anika’s holding up.”
“What about Bolin?”
Jake unlocked his Jeep and helped me in. “Bolin’s tough. He’ll channel his grief into action. Then, watch out. Whoever did this better be saying his prayers right now.”
A CLUSTER OF cars blanketed the Swanns’ driveway. I recognized a patrol car and Mia Bates’ black sedan. As always, Deming’s Porsche was splayed defiantly across the path, making a statement.
“Come on,” Jake said. “Things must be heating up.”
I grabbed his arm. “Wait a minute. Who’s that woman?” I pointed to a sinewy blonde who appeared in the doorway, draped over Deming. Her long manicured nails moved up and down his arm as if she owned it.
“Oh. That’s Pam Schwartz. She’s the managing partner at CeCe’s law firm.” Jake surveyed her from stem to well-toned stern. “She and Dem are close.”
My reaction made no sense. I had no claim on Deming Swann. One simmering night between the sheets—if it even happened—didn’t confer any rights. Somehow my blood pressure and heartbeat didn’t understand that. My insides plummeted straight to my basement as I watched him hold her close and stroke her hair. My faded makeup, chipped nails, and windblown hair were no match for such blonde perfection.
“She’s older than him. In her forties at least.”
Jake put his arm around me and squeezed. “So what? You know how crazy love is. Besides, Pam’s a special case. Brilliant, sexy, and driven. A femme formidable.” He chuckled. “Kind of like a female version of Dem himself.”
“Love? I didn’t realize . . .”
“I’ve known him for a long time, and lately he’s changed. Must be Pam’s influence.”
Jake guided me toward the front door. “Come on. Let’s find Anika and leave these lovebirds alone.”
Deming didn’t look at all pleased to see me. His scowl was deep enough to darken the skies. “What are you doing here, Eja? I thought you’d gone home.”
“Darling, you’re being rude.” His companion playfully elbowed his ribs. She stepped forward and shook my hand. “Eja Kane. I’ve heard so much about you I feel like we’re old friends. I’m Pam Schwartz.”
I felt shy and inadequate next to this womanly paragon. She was impeccably dressed, a corporate warrior; I was a midlist author in faded denim. Luckily, Jake ladled on the charm, and Pamela Schwartz soon forgot my existence.
“Why are you here?” Deming hissed. “My parents are in with the cops. Stay out of it.”
That snapped me back to reality. Deming Swann could have his golden cougar for all I cared. Served him right. My goal was to help CeCe. Nothing more. I ignored him, brushed past Po, and knocked on the heavy walnut door to the study.
Bolin appeared and waved me inside. “Eja. You’ve probably heard the news. Lieutenant Bates was just briefing us.” He gestured toward the sofa, where Anika sat dry-eyed and alert.
Euphemia Bates nodded to me. “Nice seeing you, Ms. Kane. I was just saying that you raised some very good points yesterday morning. Your faith in your friend was amazing.” She spread her hands. “The reality of big city policing is too many victims, too little time. But we get there eventually. Yes, we do.”
Anika clutched my arm as if to steady herself. “Tell us, Lieutenant. Do you have any suspects yet, or a motive?”
The language of crime sounded odd coming from those elegant lips. Bolin Swann walked over and put his hands on his wife’s shoulder.
Mia managed a wintry smile. “Actually, we have a very promising lead. Someone with motive and opportunity who knew your daughter quite well.”
Bolin stood soldier-straight, his hands balled into tight fists. “Who is it, Lieutenant?”
“I think we all know who she’s talking about.” Deming had noiselessly entered the room. “Jem Russell. That’s the name. Right, Lieutenant?”
Euphemia Bates rose to her full height and faced Deming. “I keep those things to myself, Mr. Swann. Avoids complications.”
I noticed that Pamela Schwartz was shadowing him, her eyes slithering up and down his body like a serpent as she murmured into his ear. The startled look on his face convinced me it was some lewd, anatomically improbable suggestion.
“I thought you had an urgent appointment,” Mia Bates said to her with an unconvincing grin. “You lawyers are all so busy.”
Pamela tossed her perfect bob to the side. “Of course, but nothing’s more important than Cecilia. If I can offer any more insights . . .”
“I’d prefer to speak privately,” Mia said. “In your office if possible. How’s your schedule tomorrow at eight?”
“In the morning?” Her eyes registered shock.
Deming gave a rakish grin. “You see, Lieutenant, Pamela doesn’t do anything before nine.” They locked eyes. “At least on the business front.”
I turned away and counted to ten. Twice. How dare he parade his conquest before Anika? And me. CeCe told lots of tales about Pamela Schwartz, none of them flattering. She’d named her she-
wolf, a predator who’d strip the meat from a rival’s bones then send flowers. If Deming liked that sort, so be it. They deserved each other.
“You look tired, Leda.” Bolin bent down and kissed his wife’s cheek. “Nap?”
There it was again, that exquisite bond between husband and wife. You’d think Deming would have learned something from his parents, or that I’d stop dreaming.
“Go on, Mom. I’ll finish up with the lieutenant.” Deming turned to Mia. “Eja and I were at that building today. We have something to share.”
Pamela’s face ballooned into a major pout until she gave me the once over. After starting my day at five, I was more waif than wanton. No woman would call me a threat.
“If you’re sure you don’t need me,” she said, “I’ll be at the office.”
Jake Harris followed Pamela out the door, using Harvard charm to jolly her along.
As Bolin led her upstairs, Anika stretched out her hand. “Eja, call me tomorrow. Okay?”
Nine
EUPHEMIA BATES took her time, easing into a leather wing chair and examining her notes. A thirty-something sergeant with a walrus mustache sat behind her, armed with a laptop and a miniscule tape recorder.
“Okay Mr. Swann, why don’t you start? Tell us what happened today.”
Deming acted like a racehorse at the starting gate, frothing at the mouth and pawing the ground. His zeal to neutralize Jem Russell was unnerving.
“Ms. Kane and I went to his apartment and . . .”
“Hold on.” Mia held her hand out traffic-cop style. “How’d you know he lived in that building? You never mentioned it when we met.”
Deming maintained his composure by evasion and half-truths.
“My father told me. He stayed with my mother, and I went in his stead.” He nodded to me. “Ms. Kane knows him too, so she went along.”
Mia crossed long, elegant legs and nodded. She wore that flat cop look like a custom suit.
“We confronted him, and he admitted that he’d been seeing my sister. Trying to get money from her.” Sparks flew from his hazel eyes. “He even said he’d tried to lure her out on the roof before.”
