Neighbors and More (High Rise Series) (5 page)

“How long did he stay, Mrs. Partson?” Ladd waited, his pencil
in hand, half way toward his mouth, as if he planned to bite on it.

“He left by 2:00 pm.”

“Did anyone else see Steve Bairey after that?”

Dianna crossed her hands on the table and twiddled her perfectly
manicured fingers. “I passed by the
Jacuzzi
on my way from the beach. I
stopped and talked to him for a few minutes,” she said with a lilting voice and
a Latino accent.

“I wonder if you were the last person to talk to him,” the
detective mused. “Was any one else around?”

“There were people in the pool around the corner, but he was
alone in the hot tub.”

“Thank you. Did anyone else see him today?”

“I saw him in the elevator, around noon,” Dante said.

“Were you going up or down?”

“Up. I’ve just arrived from the airport. He got off at the fifth
floor.”

“Okay. Mr. Partson?”

“I saw him several times. In the morning and later in the
afternoon. I’ll tell you about the details later.”

Dante stifled a sigh of exasperation and noticed Detective
Ladd’s eyes narrowing. Greg had to act differently from everyone else.

“Very well. Mr. Partson, I’d like to post a note on the
bulletin board notifying the owners and residents that anyone who saw and
talked to Steve Bairey should come and see me. Now I will talk to each one of
you separately. Ms. Oliveira, I’ll start with you. Stay here please. The others
leave the room but not the building. You need to be available for questioning
tonight.”

“Why all this questioning?” Dianna asked. “Do you suspect
foul play?”

“So far it’s a simple routine investigation,” Ladd answered,
his tone as neutral as could be, without looking at any one of them in
particular. “Oh, and don’t talk to journalists if they contact you for
comments.”

Dianna patted her hair, a subtle smile on her lips. “Really,
the press is going to be here? Would they take pictures of us?”

“I hope not,” Greg grumbled. “We don’t need negative
attention on our building.”

For a change, Dante couldn’t agree more with Greg. The idea
of his picture displayed in the newspapers, and maybe captions about the
address where he lived, repulsed him.

They reached the door, but Greg remained seated at his
place.

“Mr. Partson, you can leave too.”

“Dianna is my girlfriend. We have no secrets from each
other.” He accompanied his statement with a menacing look at Dianna that meant he
wouldn’t tolerate any secrets on her part. “You can shoot your questions in
front of me.”

Dante stifled a snort. A few minutes ago, Greg had
introduced Alexa as his wife, not his ex. Now, it didn’t bother him to publicly
reveal that Dianna was his girlfriend. Talk about a nabob.

“Mr. Partson, please don’t interfere with how I run my investigation,”
Ladd said with a cold stare and a glance at his watch. “And don’t delay us.
It’s already 8:30.”

Dante held the door open for Greg and closed it behind him.
Even if Greg insisted on staying with Alexa for her interview, he’d be kicked
out.

Greg scowled at him. “You can stop smiling, Cantari. The
troubles are just starting. For all of us.”

Chapter Four

 “Dante, sit down.” Alexa shuddered, blinking several times.
“Seeing you standing at the bar reminds me too much of Steve hovering there.” Would
she ever stop seeing Steve’s ghost in her home?

“On the contrary, my dear. Maybe seeing me in the places
where he stood will make you forget him. Maybe I should kiss you in every one
of those places to give you different images to replace the lousy ones.” He waggled
his eyebrows and she couldn’t help laughing. He walked to her and handed her a
glass. “Here, a light Zinfandel. It will help you unwind.”

Alexa didn’t feel like drinking, but automatically extended
her hand to accept the drink, her gaze lost in the delectable contemplation of Dante’s
wide shoulders, now dressed for the evening in a striped shirt, his strong legs
clad in a pair of beige pants. With his dark curls smoothly combed into place,
he was the best thing she’d looked at in a long time.

Although it was already nine, she hoped they would go out
for dinner right after their interview with the detective. Alexa had slipped
into a black silk dress with a silver sequined top and matching high heeled
sandals.

 “Believe me, I was unwinding plenty before we met those
people downstairs.” While she sipped the light wine, a thought hit her. “Do you
think Greg will keep harassing me now that he’s insisted loudly Dianna is his girlfriend?”

“Knowing Greg, one has nothing to do with the other. The man
sets himself above every decent law and thrives on control. He may show up with
the detective. Just ignore him.”

As if fate had heard them, the bell chimed.

“I’ll get it.” Alexa rushed to the door, more than eager to
get her interview over with.

Sure enough, Greg accompanied the detective. Detective Ladd
turned toward him. “Thank you for bringing me to Mrs. Partson’s apartment. I
will talk with Mrs. Bairey next, and then with you.”

“You can interview Alexa and me at the same time.” As usual,
Greg never gave up.

“Mrs. Partson?” Ladd raised his eyebrows asking her opinion.

“No. I don’t want anyone present while talking to you,” Alexa
said, for the sake of making a point.

“In that case, excuse us, Mr. Partson.” The detective
stepped into her entrance hall and simply closed the door behind him, before
Greg could protest.

“This way, please.” She waved him to the living room where Dante
lounged in a chair.

“Should he go too?” Ladd’s smile indicated he already knew
the answer and the reasons behind it.

“He’s my lawyer.”

“I see.” His smile widened. He sat in one of the leather
chairs, turned on his mini-recorder, and opened his pad. “Mrs. Partson, how
long have you known Steve Bairey?”

“I met Steve and Julia when they moved into this building
eight years ago. Greg and I went out for dinner with them and other neighbors a
few times, but we weren’t particularly close. After my divorce, they offered
their help. At first they came together to ask if I needed anything from the
supermarket, or the hardware store. A year later, Steve started coming on his
own.”

“What would they get you from the stores?”

“Nothing. Greg made sure the bar and the fridge were well
stocked for his own use.”

“Did Mr. Partson keep coming after your divorce?”

She sighed. “Divorce didn’t bother Greg. He was here every
other day for one reason or another.”

“You never threw him out?” Ladd arched a curious eyebrow,
and Dante studied her sheepish expression and the blush covering her cheeks.

“I just couldn’t be that rude. You see, Greg was my father’s
best friend. He helped me after Dad’s death. He came here mostly to read his
email when his computer was down.”

“Sweet Alexa. Some people don’t deserve your kindness,”
Dante mumbled, while shaking his head. “You’re too sweet for your own good.”

“Have you ever been intimate with Steve Bairey?”

When Alexa glanced at Dante, the detective cleared his
throat. “Do you want Mr. Cantari to step out?”

“No. I don’t mind talking in front of him. He may as well
hear it all now.”

Dante rewarded her with a warm smile.

“We used to greet each other with a kiss on the cheek when
the four of us met. Steve continued to do this. I didn’t worry about it at
first. One day, he tried to give me a deeper kiss. I pushed him away. He
wouldn’t let go and started grabbing my breasts. I pulled at his hair, kicked
him, and managed to get him off me.” Her gaze flew to Dante.

His eyes glared with a menacing glow and his lips stretched
into a thin line, but he didn’t interrupt her.

“And?” Ladd prompted.

“He immediately apologized and told me he’d fallen in love
with me and was going to ask Julia for a divorce and marry me. I said, ‘No way.
Get out.’ That was a year ago.”

“Did he bother you again?”

“For a long time after that, he behaved himself. Then two
months ago— after you left, Dante— he came to discuss a recent assessment. You
see, he’s the treasurer of our building association. By then I had relaxed my
guard. I let him in. At the end of the discussion, he helped himself to a drink
and handed me one. I didn’t realize how strong the drink was. He must have spiked
it with something. I fell asleep or passed out. I don’t remember anything after
that until I woke up in bed with Steve.”

She wrung her hands while staring straight ahead. Had Steve
slept with her? Had he touched her intimately? The bile rose in her throat. For
the life of her, she couldn’t look at Dante.

“What happened next?” Ladd asked.

“I was half-naked and so was he. I don’t know if he forced
himself on me or not.” Shame invaded her heart as she remembered Steve half
lying over her. “I jumped out of bed, called him every name I could think of, then
threw his clothes at his face, telling him to get out. He apologized, saying he’d
drunk too much and couldn’t remember what happened. He got dressed and left. I
complained about him to Greg without telling him the whole story.”

“Did you file a report with the police?”

“No, I couldn’t talk to anyone about this incident.” A
shudder shook her. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her chest. “I
just couldn’t repeat the details. I tried to forget the whole thing.”

“Did Steve come back?”

“He stayed away for two months, but he knocked on my door yesterday
and today.”

“Why did he come yesterday? And why did you let him in?”

“I didn’t let him in. Yesterday, I left the security chain
on and he talked to me through the door. He told me he’d get his divorce
finalized in a few days. He was madly in love with me and would I consider
marrying him. I said
absolutely not
.”

“And today?”

 With a scowl, she glared at the bar and the table. Steve
had stood there. “I was in my bedroom, getting ready to go shopping. I heard my
front door opening and closing.”

Alexa stared at the rug as she relived the scene.

****

“Alexa, sweetie, it’s me.”

“Damn it.” Alexa stiffened, recognizing Steve’s voice.

The jerk. He was in her living room, uninvited and
unwelcome.

The vein in her temple pounded like a drum. She wanted to
kill the bastard. Digging her nails into her palms, she stomped out of her
bedroom. “Get out before I call the police.”

In swim trunks and a matching shirt, Steve greeted her
with a big smile, his sun-streaked hair falling on his forehead in disarray. A
handsome hunk, who left her indifferent. Mad. Wanting to scratch his eyes out.

 “Hey, I came on a friendly, peaceful mission.” He raised
his hands encumbered with a carafe of golden brown liquor and two round crystal
glasses.

“Bastard, give me my key and get out.” She uttered
through gritted teeth and outstretched her open palm. Being the treasurer, he
must have accessed the locked room where the manager kept spare keys for all
the apartments. Tomorrow she’d change the locks.

 “Out. Get. Out.”

“I’m here to tell you… To promise I won’t bother you
anymore. You don’t want me as your husband or boyfriend. Fine. Can we at least
remain good friends?” he asked with a smile that should melt an iceberg.

But this iceberg refused to melt. “I don’t need friends
like you.”

“Just listen, please. I’m leaving Fort Lauderdale. Moving
to Atlanta.”

“Oh?” Something in her chest eased.

“I came to say goodbye and give you back your key.” He
deposited his carafe and the goblets on the dining table, and handed her a key.
“I brought Amaretto, our favorite, for one last toast.”

Amaretto had never been her favorite liqueur, but she
wanted him out of her place. “I have to go in a few minutes.”

“So we’ll make it a quickie.” He meandered to the bar,
poured the drinks, and gave her a glass. “To what could have been, but will
never be.”

She snorted at the way he phrased his toast. Narrowing her
eyes, she assessed his jovial smile. How could she forget the morning he woke
up next to her? She'd often wondered if he’d spiked her drink to trick her into
bed.

No way would she ever swallow anything he offered her. She
raised her glass halfway to her lips, determined to find an excuse to avoid
drinking. The strong odor of bitter-sweet almond wafted to her nose. She almost
gagged. “My stomach—”

A cell phone ring chimed in the silence of the room,
saving her the trouble to complete her sentence or to slosh the liquid on the
floor.

“It’s mine,” Steve said. “Excuse me.” He set his drink on
the dining table and walked out to the balcony to take his call.

 She put her glass next to his and squinted at the twin
goblets of Amaretto that challenged her commonsense. Drat. The glassware
belonged to her bar. The gall of the man. Irritation zapped through her system.
He must have picked them up as soon as he entered her apartment while she was
still in her bedroom. A shudder raked her. Nothing good had ever come out of
this scumbag. Biting her lips, she cursed herself for forgetting to hook the
security chain when she came back home after lunch.

While he still spoke on the phone, pacing the balcony, she
picked up the glass he’d held and hustled to the kitchen. Determined to avoid a
repeat performance of her nasty past history with Steve, she poured the drink
down the sink, rinsed the goblet, and filled it with iced tea. Same color as
the Amaretto.

Her heart racing, she glided back to the dining area, with
her harmless tea in hand, and settled in a chair, waiting for her nemesis to
finish his call.