Never Sorry: A Leigh Koslow Mystery (23 page)

They weren't there. She walked around the bar, looking at the kitchen floor on the other side. Nothing.

Her brow furrowed. She had tossed them on the counter—she was certain of that. The cat could have moved them, assuming her imperial highness had ever come out from under the bed. Did cats play with keys?

Maura searched fruitlessly around the floor of the apartment, her wariness increasing. Finally she walked to the door and bent down to examine the pattern of light filtering through the crack between the door and its frame. The deadbolt wasn't locked.

Had she been so groggy she'd forgotten to lock it? No—locking doors at night was second nature to her, if more to keep her mother in than strangers out. She had locked it. She was sure of it.

She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and carefully opened the door. Pulling it into the room, she examined the outside of the deadbolt and sighed. There were scratches around the keyhole—fresh ones. The apartment had been broken into.

She turned and surveyed Leigh's living area and kitchen, but hadn't a clue what it had looked like last night. Had she even turned the kitchen light on? Nothing appeared to be out of place—no open cabinets, no overturned drawers. She knew of nothing that was missing except the keys, but if something else had been taken, she wouldn't be able to tell.

Damn
! Had she slept that soundly? By all accounts, yes. At home she'd slept lightly, forcing herself to listen for signs of trouble. But last night, in different surroundings, she'd been blissfully able to turn off her brain. Once out, she was way out—it wouldn't surprise her if she'd slept through her own alarm.

She looked out into the hallway, but knew it was a pointless action. Whoever the intruder had been, he or she was long gone. She closed the door and trudged over to the telephone. There was no point in minimizing the break-in. It could be simple vandalism, but where Leigh Koslow was concerned, nothing was ever simple. In the last week alone she'd gotten arrested for one murder and narrowly escaped charges on another. The intruder could be someone involved in the murders—or a distant relative trying to hide snuff in the toilet tank. With Koslow, one never knew.

The Ross Township Police arrived promptly, and Maura began a calm explanation. She was about halfway through it when an extra—and uninvited— branch of law enforcement pulled in. Detective Gerald Frank walked through the open door with a look of surprise—and annoyance. "Leuthold!" He interrupted the older of the two officers talking to Maura with a none-too-pleased tone. "What the hell's going on here?"

Sergeant Leuthold, who did not seem unduly disturbed by the detective's outburst, answered pleasantly. "Had a break-in last night. What's up with you guys?" 

Frank's gaze passed over Maura without interest. She was just another uniform in the crowd. "Search warrant," he growled. "Where's Leigh Koslow?"

Maura rose from the couch where she and Sergeant Leuthold had been sitting. "She's at my house. I'm Maura Polanski, Avalon PD."

"What's she doing there?" Frank demanded sourly.

"Taking care of my mother. She hasn't been here all night—I stayed here."

"You two friends?" he asked caustically.

"Since college."

Frank's dark eyes bounced from Maura to Sergeant Leuthold and back. "You were staying here—and someone broke in?"

"Right."

"Did you see them?"

"No."

"Anything taken?"

"The apartment keys. Past that, I wouldn't know."

Frank's gaze was penetrating enough to bore holes in her head. "How do you know Miss Koslow herself didn't pick the locks?"

Maura returned an unfaltering, studying gaze. He was sharp all right. If  he was even halfway honest, he'd eventually see his mistakes where Koslow was concerned. He just needed a little help.

"I don't know that she didn't, Detective. I told you, I was asleep."

Frank's eyes narrowed, and Maura knew she'd scored a point. As she had guessed, this man respected objectiveness above blind loyalty.

"Have you contacted her about the break-in?" he asked.

"No," Maura answered, "not yet."

He stepped closer to her. "And why not?"

Maura didn't hesitate. "Because I didn't want her coming over here until after the officers had had a look around."
Freaking out and messing up evidence
.

Frank stepped back, the softening in his gaze assuring Maura that she was on the right track. His mouth slowly curved up, and he chuckled. "Sounds like you know her pretty well."

Maura smiled slightly, but didn't respond. Sergeant Leuthold jumped back in. "What you looking for, Detective?"

Frank hesitated slightly before answering. "Miss Koslow's been arrested for murder, and her boyfriend's under arrest up in Butler for another one. An anonymous tipster would have us believe that Miss Koslow was involved in both." He stole a sideways glance at Maura before finishing. "But you know how it is with anonymous tipsters. Sometimes they have their own agenda."

***

Exhausted, but driven by anxiety, Leigh took the steps to her apartment two at a time. It had been an excruciatingly long night. Mary Polanski was worse—much worse. Her lucid periods had become few and far between, and she had a hard time remembering where the bathroom was, much less who Leigh was and what she was doing there. Mary had always been a fascinating woman to talk to, but now her dialogue simply repeated itself on a five-minute cycle. By 3:00 AM, Leigh had become a master at derailing the topic train and switching it to a new track, but the effort was taxing. Mary had tried to go outside for a walk at least twice every hour, and had only slept briefly between 4:00 and 6:00 AM. Leigh slept even less, and at 7:30 AM had wearily relinquished her duties to Maura's Aunt Judith.

The experience had left her with a strong sense of duty where her friend's family was concerned. They all had to face facts. Maura and her elderly aunts simply could not keep this up—it would destroy their health, and it was only going to get worse. They would either have to hire live-in help, or investigate an Alzheimer's care home. Left to her own sense of loyalty and responsibility, Maura would care for her mother until she dropped—literally. Somehow Leigh had to convince Maura that her own needs mattered, too.

She had headed for the Avalon Police Station with hopes of launching into the needed discussion right away, but was hit head-on with another disturbing revelation. According to the desk clerk, Maura was late for work because the apartment she'd been staying in had been broken into.

Peachy
.

Leigh leapt up the last flight of stairs and jogged to her door, which she jerked open while still in motion. She skidded to a halt and burst in on a sea of uniforms. "Maura!" she called out breathlessly. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"I'm fine, Koslow," Maura answered.

The only non-uniform in the room turned to look at Leigh. Her face fell. All she needed now was her number-one nemesis.

"Good morning, Miss Koslow," Frank said with a smile. "We were wondering when you'd show up."

Leigh rankled at his obvious sarcasm, and returned in kind. "It appears I wasn't invited to the party. Rather rude, don't you think?"

Frank's upper lip lifted enough to show teeth—but only on one side. "Officer Polanski here says you spent the night at her house in Avalon. That true?"

Leigh nodded.

Sergeant Leuthold stepped forward and introduced himself. "Could you tell us if anything is missing?" he asked politely.

Eager to show Frank how cooperative she was with officials who had social skills, Leigh jumped to the task. She examined the apartment from head to toe, and honestly could not see where anything had been disturbed, much less taken.

Frank, who had hovered over her like a vulture the entire time, seemed to be getting impatient. "Check your tools and cutlery. Anything you have that might be used as a weapon."

Leigh hadn't a clue what he was driving at, but continued with the good-girl act and reasoned that the only potential weapons she owned were her kitchen knives and her scissors. She looked at them again—all seemed present and accounted for.

Frank gave her a tired, frustrated glance, and instructed another officer to produce a zippered bag. "Have you ever seen this item before, Miss Koslow?"

Leigh peered through the plastic at a nasty-looking knife with a long, serrated blade seated in a brown plastic handle. The blade was spotted with a dry, reddish-brown residue, and she recoiled instinctively. "No," she said firmly. "I don't think I've ever seen that particular knife before. It certainly isn't mine."

Frank exhaled loudly and ran fingers through his remaining hair. "You'll have to wait outside until these men finish up," he barked, then abruptly left the apartment.

Leigh walked quickly to Maura's side. "What the hell was that? And why is he even here? Doesn't he have enough false evidence against me?"

Maura shook her head purposefully and led Leigh out into the hall. Frank was nowhere to be seen. "Watch what you say around these guys," she chastised.

"Fine. Answer me!" Leigh insisted. Agitated as she was, she couldn't help but be encouraged by the lights in the back of Maura's eyes.

"This may not be such a bad thing after all," Maura began in a whisper. "I'm not sure, but it looks like somebody just made a big mistake. And it looks like you got a hell of a break."

Leigh's own eyes lit up. She didn't understand anything that was happening, but a break sounded good. "What?"

"I'm just guessing, but here's my take. Someone broke in to leave you a gift, then phoned the police to make sure they knew you had it."

"Had what?" Leigh demanded loudly.

Maura put her finger to her mouth, then answered in another whisper. "The knife that killed Stacey Tanner."

Chapter 17

Leigh realized her mouth was open, and shut it. "The knife that killed Stacey Tanner? I thought she was shot."

"Did Tanner tell you that?" Maura asked.

"No. I mean, he might have said something about it when Katharine and I talked to him, but I don't remember specifically. I guess I just assumed."

"Based on what?"

Leigh shrugged. "There was blood coming from her back, but no knife sticking out—no weapon anywhere. I just figured she'd been shot from a distance and that the killer had left with the gun. It did happen on hunting land, you know."

"The killer couldn't have left with a knife?"

Leigh exhaled. "I suppose so, I just never really thought about it. What does it matter?"

Maura still looked relatively happy. "It might matter to your defense—and Tanner's. If your statements showed you thought the victim was shot when in fact she was stabbed, it supports your innocence."

Leigh smiled.
All hail ignorance.

***

When Katharine Bower called Leigh to her office at noon, she had several new stacks of paper with which to torture her client. Though one would think that even minute details of one's own murder case would manage to intrigue, Katharine's lengthy discourses left Leigh wishing for a pillow. Leigh wanted to talk about the planted knife, but Katharine was too methodical for that. They progressed in an ordered manner—and ad nauseum—through various items, actions, and motions before Stacey Tanner's murder was mentioned. When the subject did come up, it took a moment for Leigh to rouse to full consciousness.

"Did you say that Tanner's out?" she asked incredulously. "As of when?"

Katharine looked at Leigh over the top of her glasses, lips pursed. Though it was none of Katharine's business who Leigh did and did not want to see, Leigh clarified her intentions. "I'm not involved with him, if you care. That's over. I just wondered how he got out so quick, that's all."

Katharine did not appear convinced. "Quick? He was in two nights. You were in about five minutes, as you recall. He was released on bail Monday afternoon, and he now has a private attorney."

"Where did he get the money?" Leigh said without thinking.

Katharine looked at her impatiently. "I'm
your
lawyer, not Tanner's accountant. Besides, what does it matter? You're not involved with him anymore, remember?"

Leigh's mind drifted. Tanner was out. Tanner who kept insisting he had no money. Had this mysterious brother in Alabama come through, or was that a lie too? He hadn't come to see her—evidently his life was now too complicated for the employee-of-the-month game. Had Leo fired him as well? If not, was he back at the zoo now?
Where had he been last night?

"Leigh!" Katharine commanded.

"What?"

"Can you please pay attention? I was telling you that I met with Tanner's lawyer this morning. He's green, but I think he's competent. And he was willing to share information about Stacey's murder. An eye witness confirmed your passing and return on Barber Road, and the timing was such that you couldn't possibly have been at the cabin more than a minute or two. Another plus: the medical examiner's report placed the time of Stacey's death at least one hour before you got there."