Neighbors and More (High Rise Series) (9 page)

Just talk? His tone of voice suggested he was ready to slice
Alexa with questions, shred her story to pieces, and drive a spear through her heart.

She sighed, but stood, her chin high. “Fine. Let’s go.”

****

Dante grasped Alexa’s hand and squeezed her fingers to reassure
her. They were icy and limp. Where was her bravado of a moment ago? They rode
the elevator in silence and walked to her apartment. She took her key from her
beach bag, opened the door, and entered without a backward glance.

“Have a seat, please.” Always the gracious hostess, she
indicated the sofa and chairs, settled herself, and crossed her legs. Dante
dropped beside her on the sofa.

Ladd remained standing, towering above them.

“Well, you can go ahead. Ask your questions,” she said, her
tone impatient.

“Mrs. Partson, have you accepted Steve’s proposal of
marriage?” Ladd’s head and neck jutted toward her, reminding Dante of the
pelican that suddenly dove into the ocean to catch a prey.

“I’ve already told you I didn’t. I slammed the door in his
face.”

“Are you sure? Think carefully. Try to remember.”

Alexa uncrossed her legs and lurched off the sofa to be at eye
level with the detective. “Yes, I am sure. One hundred percent certain. Why do
you keep asking?”

Ladd glared at her. “Do you drink a lot? Often?”

She gasped. “No, I don’t drink often. Only when someone
insists I share a drink. I never drink when alone and I never drink more than a
couple of glasses.”

Dante gritted his teeth, guessing the detective’s line of
questioning.
Jerk
.

“So you can say that your mind was completely clear when Bairey
visited on both days?” Ladd pinned her with a sharp gaze.

“Yes.”

“You knew exactly what you were doing? Right?”

Her mouth opened and closed. She glanced at Dante.

“Alexa said she was sober. Why do you keep insisting on that
point?” Dante asked.

Ladd kept studying her. “Her statement is so different from
her neighbors’ that I’m wondering if there is a reason we may have missed.”

“How different?”

“For instance, you heard Carter Morton saying that he and
Steve were not moving to Atlanta. I called Mrs. Julia Bairey. Her husband never
talked to her about Atlanta.”

Dante crossed his arms on his chest and gestured to Alexa to
let him handle it. “Steve and Julia were practically divorced. He wouldn’t
confide in her.”

The detective’s lips twitching to one side indicated he
didn’t swallow that bit of good sense. “There is more. Morton said that Bairey
confided he and Alexa were getting married soon.”

“He’s lying.” Alexa flung her arms up and down against her
sides. The nightmare was deepening. Ladd thought she’d plotted a complicated
plan to kill Steve. She wasn’t capable of killing a fly. How could she convince
them
she
didn’t put anything in Steve’s drink? It was he who’d spiked
her drink in a previous visit. But if she mentioned that, Ladd might think
she’d tried to retaliate.

“Why did you accept Steve’s ring?” The detective’s voice
sounded like a metallic clank.

“Damn it. I didn’t.”

“I would like to search your apartment.”

“But—” Alexa started.

Dante interrupted by raising a hand. “You have no right to
do it without a search warrant.”

“Here it is.” Detective Ladd shoved his hand into his pocket
and extracted a folded paper. “A man is dead. As a lawyer, Mr. Cantari, you’ll
understand justice must be done.”

“Go ahead, search,” Alexa shouted.
Oh God, I’m losing my
mind
. “I have nothing to hide,” she added, her tone more subdued as she
struggled to control her shaking.

Ladd opened his briefcase, extracted several items he dumped
into his pocket, and donned a pair of latex gloves. “I will start with the
bathrooms, then the bedrooms, and later the kitchen.”

“Can we come with you?” Dante asked.

“Yes, as long as you don’t touch anything. I may have more
questions as I look around.”

They followed him to the bathroom and stood at the door
while he opened the medicine cabinet, unfolded a plastic bag he had in his
pocket and threw in it all the bottles and vials. He looked into the wooden
cabinet under the sink, read the labels on hairsprays and lotions, peered
behind the toilet bowl, and unfolded the neatly arranged towels in the bathroom
closet. Moving to the powder room, he repeated his search.

“Off to the bedroom.” He walked straight to her dresser and pulled
the three top drawers. She stiffened as he fumbled through her perfumes,
scarves, and belts. When he opened the next series of drawers, he whistled and
glanced at her, his eyes rounding.

“Careful with her jewelry,” Dante warned as the detective uncovered
a black velvet box and raised a diamond and emerald necklace to the light. “You
are searching, not assessing her diamonds.”

Ladd’s eyes narrowed threateningly. He slammed the drawers shut,
swiftly explored the lower ones, and strolled to the chest sitting against the
wall.

Alexa cringed. “My intimate things,” she whispered to Dante.
“Must he touch my underwear and bras?”

“You’ll wash everything. Better still, you’ll buy new
things.” Dante rubbed her back. She would have relished the soothing effect of
his fingers at any other time. But not now. Averting her gaze from the detective,
she concentrated on the Intracoastal Canal, a view that had always relaxed her.
“You don’t have to fondle every thong,” Dante said, his tone menacing.

“I knew it.” The detective flung up his hands. One dangled a
lace bra and the other clasped a small jewelry box.

Alexa paled. “What’s that?” She didn’t recognize the gray box.
Hers were all black with her initials embroidered or painted in gold, a special
luxury touch from her high-class jeweler.

“It was hidden here.” Ladd demonstrated how the box had
nestled inside the curve of the bra.

Why was that gray box hidden in her lingerie drawer? Her
throat tightened so hard she suffocated and inhaled hard. God, what was
happening?

“Ah-ha. A solitaire. Not your usual huge diamonds. Still it
makes a beautiful engagement ring. Oh, and here is a small card.” His lips
thinned in a long smile that reminded her of a snake. “How sweet. ‘Thank you
for taking me. I will love you forever’. Ah-ha. Care to explain, Alexa?”

She stomped forward, rubbing her neck, and forced the words
out. “I don’t understand. I’ve never seen it.”

Ladd arched ominous eyebrows. “Of course. Why did I expect
you to say anything else?”

No. It’s not true. It’s not happening
. How could she
stop the shaking? She wrapped her arms around her chest and stared at the box
displaying the diamond. A small diamond of poor quality that looked more like a
zirconium. A ring she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing after Greg had taught her
to appreciate the best. It was that lousy diamond that threatened her right
now.

Count to five. Inhale. Exhale.
She had to do
something. Get herself out of this mess before it was too late. She’d pledged to
build her future on her own—a future where she wouldn’t let any male intimidate
her, a future where she’d depend on herself in every way.

Start now
.

She lifted her chin. “You’ve seen my jewelry. Do you really
think I need that ring?” She reached in the dresser drawer and extracted a
square black box with a gold monogram made of an A and P interlaced. Clicking
it open, she revealed a fabulous ten carat, brilliant diamond reflecting light
in all directions. “
This
is my wedding ring. Greg wanted me to keep it.”
She didn’t add she considered it to be her manacle. Greg’s slave mark. Soon she
would emancipate herself by insisting he took it back. Right now she counted on
the magnificent piece of jewelry to save her.

The detective’s eyes widened and riveted on the sparkles of the
opulent diamond. After a moment, he flipped an uncertain glance in her
direction, then ogled the other sachets and jewelry boxes in the drawer.
“Careful, lady. You have a little fortune here. I mean a big one. Don’t leave
it around for anyone to grab and run.”

“Don’t I know that?” She’d scored a point. Time to press her
advantage. “Steve wouldn’t have needed a ring. If I wanted a man—if I loved a
man—he wouldn’t need a ring to convince me to marry him. I already have my
share of diamonds. I didn’t want Steve. I despised him.” She turned toward Dante.
Would he believe her?

“Detective Ladd, if Steve was her fiancé, I would have
thought that would make Alexa less likely to be the killer rather than more
likely. Don’t you think?”

The detective’s gaze flipped from the cheap ring in his hand
to the giant rock she held. He slammed the small box shut, shoved it in the
plastic bag, and dropped the card in, too. “I will have fingerprints taken on
this. I will continue my search now. Not a word to the press,” he added before
moving to the guestroom.

“We’re not the ones who leak nasty gossip,” Dante retorted.
“But I suggest you search two apartments, Julia Bairey’s 1202 where Steve lived
when married, and Cater Morton’s 502 where Steve moved after his divorce.”

“Mr. Cantari, I know how to do my job. I can assure you these
condos are on my list.”

Alexa slumped on the edge of her bed. “I’m sick, just
thinking that someone has entered my condo more than once, opened my medicine
cabinet, searched through my clothes.”

“Calm down, sweetheart. I promise we’ll find out who wants
to hurt you.”

Tilting her chin toward the door, she muttered, “He’s
convinced I’m lying.”

“No. I don’t think Ladd has made a decision. He’s still
looking for clues. Several people have a good motive to get rid of Steve.”

Pictures of jail, handcuffs, and court zipped around in her
head. “Dante, do you believe me?” She wished he could take her in his arms and
kiss her senseless to make her forget the nightmare. “Do you believe I’ve never
seen that ring?”

If he had no faith in her, he’d better leave and never come
back. She’d had enough deceitful men around her.

His lips twitched in a hint of a smile. “I’m sure you’d have
thrown it in Steve’s face.”

Relieved, she exhaled. At least, she still had a friend in
this rotten world.

“The whole thing doesn’t make sense.” Dante shook his head.

Ladd came back toward them, his plastic bag swollen with
more items. She didn’t give a damn if he took the whole household. “Mrs. Partson,
do not leave town. Do not go any place where I can’t reach you.”

“I don’t intend to. But I repeat—”

“Alexa, don’t say anything now.” Dante’s warning gaze froze
the words in her throat.

Apparently, she was the main suspect. A shudder shook her
and she plopped her forehead into her hands. Had they reached the point where
anything she said could be held against her? 

Chapter Seven

After Ladd’s departure, Dante strolled to the kitchen,
grabbed two cans of beer from the refrigerator, and joined Alexa on her
balcony. They settled on the rocking chairs watching the breathtaking view of
the azure water spotted with the white sails of fishing boats. A couple of
Jet
Skis
crisscrossed, stirring a wake of foam behind them, and a yellow boat
zoomed past, dragging an expert water-skier.

Dante snapped the cans open and handed her one. He gulped
down half of his can and clucked his tongue. “Mmm. I needed a cold drink.”

“Darn, I forgot to have the lock changed.”

“It wouldn’t make a big difference, if someone can access
the spare key from the security room. An alarm system connected to the police
would be more useful.”

Her eyes flashed with interest. “Not a bad idea. I’ll look
into it tomorrow.”

The breeze carried notes of music. Alexa bent over the rail.
“Oh Dante, look. There’s a wedding on the beach.” He glanced in the direction
she pointed. A flowered arch erected on the sand harbored a party of people, elegantly
dressed but bare-foot. They formed a half circle as the bride and groom
approached, greeted by a man wearing black pants and shirt, and holding a book—probably
a minister.

“Isn’t it lovely? A wedding on the beach,” she repeated with
a sigh, as she turned toward him. “I wish them happiness.” A mixture of
emotions played across her face—bitterness, disappointment, anger. He hated
seeing her so disheartened.

His fingers tightened on the can as he guzzled the rest of
his beer. “Maybe I should rub your back. It’ll comfort you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the offer.” She smiled, a very sad
smile, and averted her gaze. “But I need to think.” Torturing her lip, she tapped
on the arm of her rocking chair. “Who is trying to frame me, Dante? Who wants to
throw Steve’s death on my shoulders? And why?”

Desperation drenched the green pools of her eyes and twisted
his gut. The temptation to take her in his arms and kiss her into oblivion
escalated.

Focus and help her.

“Who and why?” The two words kept tumbling through his
brain. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I wish I had an answer.” In an
effort to distract her from gloomy feelings, he added, “Let’s review the
plausible killers and their motives.”

Her eyebrows arched, but she nodded. “Greg? He couldn’t
stand Steve because he hit on me. Greg ordered Steve to stay away from me and threatened
him once.”

“Would Greg kill for you? Does he still love you?” Dante
grimaced. He didn’t like the idea of any man, competing with him for Alexa. Especially
not her former husband.

“It’s not a healthy love. More like an obsession. Greg
thinks he owns me. He won’t allow me to break free from the leash he insists on
noosing around my neck with his attentions, his jealousy, his money. But to
kill…  I don’t think it’s his style. He’d pay others to do his dirty work.”