Passion, Betrayal and Killer Highlights (22 page)

I glanced over at Leah, who was now staring blankly out the car window. “Leah,” I said a little too sharply.

Her only response was a slight shake of the head.

“Leah, can you abandon your catatonic state for a few minutes so we can go over our story?”

“All I wanted to do was tell her off.”

“Yeah, that didn’t work out so well, so let’s come up with a different strategy.”

“Sophie, do you think I’m a witch?”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “No, Leah, you’re not a bitch. Although you do have a tendency to fly off the handle, and you didn’t think things through—”

“Not a bitch—a
witch
. You know, the kind that flies around on a broom.”

I glanced over at her quickly before looking back at the road. “Please don’t lose it on me right now. In a few weeks you can go crazy, but not now, okay?”

“I’m not crazy,” Leah said. “It’s just that when Bob told me he was leaving me I had some horrible thoughts. I wanted him to suffer. And then I came home and he was dead. And now, no sooner do I find out about Erika and want to give her what-for, then she turns up dead.”

“So you think you’re an ethnic version of Carrie?”

“This isn’t funny, Sophie!” Leah pulled her newly highlighted hair back with a jerk of her hands. “Two people I was angry with are dead. Mama always told us that people thought our grandmother was a witch. Maybe we shouldn’t have been so quick to laugh those stories off.”

I took the Sixth Street exit and drove through downtown. “If every person you disliked automatically died from violent causes, Cheryl would be decapitated, our elementary school music teacher would be stabbed to death, and every hardcore Raiders fan would be lying at the bottom of some river.”

“You have a point.” She looked over at me, a slight smile playing on her lips. “And you’re still alive, so my powers must not be
that
strong.”

“Yeah, but I’m invincible. After the nuclear holocaust, it’s gonna be me, Cher and the cockroaches.”

Leah laughed, but the tone was a tad on the hysterical side. I gave her a sidelong glance and some of my anger melted away. Reaching over, I put my hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know what you’re feeling but I need you to suppress it for a few hours. If you can pull it together, I would like to take you to Redwood. They should be busy tonight.”

Leah stopped laughing and shot me a look of disbelief. “We just found the dead body of my late husband’s mistress, and you want to go clubbing?”

“It’s a bar, not a club. I think I can get some of the employees and patrons to remember us without being able to recall exactly what time they saw us or be able to swear to how long we were there. It’s a weak alibi, but it’s better than none.”

“I can’t go to some trendy bar right after losing my husband!” Leah said, suddenly concerned about her image. “I didn’t even go to bars when he was alive! No one will believe it!”

“Is there anyone who would have believed that you would go and buy yourself a skintight leather skirt?”

Leah took a moment before answering. “Do you think we’ll find street parking?”

We did end up going to Redwood. Leah managed to pull off the role of the depressed widow being dragged to bars by her well-meaning sister. That didn’t exactly make her Meryl Streep, but it did help us to establish an alibi without making it appear that she was celebrating her hubby’s sudden demise.

When we got home around midnight we found Anatoly sitting on my doorstep.

“Where have you two been? I’ve been trying to reach you for over three hours.”

“Really?” I said, checking my watch. “I must not have heard my cell ring—we were at Redwood.”

“Redwood—as in the forest?”

“As in the
bar
.” I pulled out my keys, opened the door and ushered in Leah, who was studiously keeping her eyes on the ground.

“You took her to a bar?” Anatoly scooted in after us before I had a chance to close the door. “Are you trying to find a way to make the defense attorney’s job a little more challenging, or are you both just insane?”

“I prefer the term
eccentric
.” I looked over at Leah, who was now ringing her hands again. She was clearly having a flashback to our discovery earlier in the evening. I put a hand on her back and pushed her up the stairs. “I figured she might as well get some mileage out of her new look.”

I opened the door to my apartment and let Leah in ahead of me, then stood in the door frame blocking Anatoly’s admittance. “It was a bad idea,” I confessed. “She had a miserable time and so did I. What we both really need is some shut-eye. Do you mind if we talk tomorrow?”

Anatoly didn’t look very sympathetic to my fatigue. “Did you ask Leah about Erika?”

“No!” I said a little too adamantly. “I think we may have been wrong about that. Let’s just keep our suspicions to ourselves…no need to smear Erika’s reputation for no reason.”

Anatoly’s brow creased. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Why would you ask?”

“You’re keeping something from me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, you got me. I didn’t have a horrible time at Redwood. It was actually fun. Are you happy now?”

Anatoly was beginning to look alarmed. “That was one of the worst lies you have ever told me.”

I hesitated for a moment. “Was it the lie itself that was bad, or was the problem in the delivery?”

“Both, and it has been my experience that when pathological liars falter in their area of expertise, they are hiding something big.”

I glanced back at Leah, who was sitting at the dining table with her head in her hands. “I did take her to Redwood,” I said slowly. “We did have a horrible time and I do think that it’s important that we keep our mouths shut about Erika. Now please, it’s been a long night, so can’t we just leave it at that?”

Anatoly opened his mouth to answer, but I put a finger to his lips. “Sometimes it’s better not to know.”

Anatoly looked conflicted as he studied me in the doorway. “You don’t want me to go to the police with our suspicions about Erika.”

“No.”

“You don’t want me to talk about it at all or even look into it.”

“You’re catching on fast.”

“I don’t like being kept in the dark, Sophie.”

“Then you shouldn’t come over to people’s homes in the middle of the night.” I glanced at the clock behind me. “Good night, Anatoly.” I shut the door without waiting for him to walk away. I had dealt with enough for one evening. Anatoly was going to have to go on tomorrow’s to-do list.

I had nightmares all night long about finding Erika. Every time I woke up in a cold sweat I would force myself to visualize something pleasant, like George Clooney. But when I closed my eyes again, it was Erika’s prone body that I saw. At four o’clock I gave up on trying to focus on positive imagery and had a couple of shots of vodka to help me relax. The one thing about being a writer is that you don’t have to wake up early in the morning to go to work. Of course, judging by my level of productivity lately, I didn’t need to wake up at all. I went back to my bedroom and let my head sink back onto the pillow. I would first figure out everything for Leah, then I would be able to focus on the manuscript I was supposed to be working on. I felt the effects of the alcohol on my already tired mind. Everything would fall into place. But for the moment the only thing I needed to concentrate on was sleep.

Two hours later, Leah woke up. I know this because the clock read 6:05 a.m. when I awoke to find her shaking me. “Sophie, Sophie are you awake?”

“No.”

“Sophie, the police aren’t here.”

I opened one eye. “Did you just say the police
aren’t
here?”

“That’s right.”

“And you felt the need to wake me up and tell me this?” I propped myself up on one elbow. “You know who else isn’t here? Johnny Depp. So now that we’ve finished stating the obvious, can I go back to sleep?”

“No.”

“I hate you.”

“
Why
haven’t the police come to question us about Erika?” Leah asked. “Don’t you think that I’ll be a suspect?”

“Probably.” I yawned. “But my guess is that we’re the only ones who know she’s dead.”

Leah gasped. “You think she’s just rotting away on her living room floor?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have phrased it quite like that but…yes.”

“How long will it take before someone else finds her?”

“What do I look like, Nostradamus? She won’t come into work, she won’t return her calls, and eventually someone will go check on her.”

Leah shook her head. “I don’t like this.”

“Oh, really? Because I’m having the time of my life.”

“There’s no need to be sarcastic.” Leah stood up and threw my robe on top of me. “Get up. I need to figure this all out before I have to pick up Jack.”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and pulled on the robe. “When do you plan on picking him up? Next year?”

“I’m serious, Sophie.” Leah led me out of the room and into the kitchen, where I immediately made a grab for the coffee beans. “I’m tired of this cloak-and-dagger nonsense. I have things to do. I have a memorial service to plan, for God’s sake. Do you think that’s easy? It’s like planning another wedding! And, well, Erika’s not exactly around to help anymore—not that I would have let her, considering what I learned about her….”

“Mmm, so have you been interviewing photographers?” I ground the beans and threw them in the coffeemaker.

“What? No, but I am putting together an album documenting Bob’s life. And I do need to start talking to caterers—”

“And coffee—if Bob’s friends are going to be making speeches, you’re going to need lots of coffee for the rest of us.”

“And I know exactly where I want the service to be held,” Leah continued, ignoring my thinly veiled insult. “And while I don’t need to send out actual invitations, I do need to make sure that the word gets out to the right people.”

I froze with my Brita pitcher poised over the coffeemaker. “Oh, my God, I just realized who the right people are.”

“Well, it’s not too difficult to figure out. There’s the Cavlins and the VanSambes….”

“And the Whitmans, Leah. You can’t forget Bianca Whitman.”

Leah blanched. “You’re not serious.”

“Of course I’m serious.” I absently poured the water into the coffeemaker as I planned our next move. “Bianca won’t expect to be welcome there, so we’ll have to tell her to come. Why don’t I call her up right now and invite her to come on over for brunch?”

“Why don’t you?” Leah mocked. “Other than the little issue that she has completely dismantled my life, I don’t have any real problem with her.”

“Leah, don’t you see? We’ll invite her over to make it clear that while her actions were hurtful, we don’t bear her any ill will. To further illustrate that, we’ll ask her to come to the memorial service.”

“Over my dead body.”

“No, over Bob’s. It’s his memorial.” I pulled a couple of mugs out of the cupboard and handed one to Leah. “Then, while she’s here, we’ll subtly inquire about her whereabouts last night.”

Leah gasped. “You think she’s the one who killed Erika! She must have found out that she wasn’t his only mistress and lost it, why didn’t I see it before?”

“At this point I’m not sure I care all that much who killed Erika, as long as
we’re
not blamed.” I leaned my back against the cream-colored tiles of the counter. “It’s possible Bianca didn’t know about Erika, but it’s just as possible that she did, and if she doesn’t have an alibi, then the police will have to look at her.”

“That’s assuming the police find out about Erika’s affair with Bob.”

“And if they don’t, all the better.” I shrugged and watched as the coffee drizzled into the coffeepot. “Then they won’t be able to come up with a motive for you at all. The point is that if we make nicey-nice with Bianca, then we could get some useful information out of her, her bulldog of a sister might lighten up a bit,
and
you won’t look like a jealous, vindictive wife who is capable of murder.”

Leah pressed her lips together and looked down at her empty cup. “Fine, I’ll invite her to the service. But she can’t sit in the front row and she can’t stand up to speak.” She peered up at me. “I already shared my husband with her, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to share the spotlight.”

I waited until 9:00 a.m. to call Bianca, and as it turned out, my timing was impeccable. Porsha had stepped out for a morning jog, so no one was there to tell Bianca that having a private breakfast with the woman believed to have killed her lover wasn’t the most prudent thing a girl could do. Bianca had accepted my invitation to brunch without so much as a hesitation. Once again Bianca’s naiveté didn’t sit well with me. She just didn’t seem to have the savvy or even the intelligence to pull off a murder without leaving mountains of evidence behind.

Leah was busy in the kitchen, muttering to herself like the schizophrenic housewife she had become. I sighed and leaned against the counter and watched as she chopped up some fresh fruit to place in what was quickly becoming an elaborate salad. “I don’t get you. If you hate this woman so much, why are you going to all this trouble?”

“You want this to look good, right?” Leah turned away from the salad and started arranging the croissants, which she had picked up a half hour earlier, on what was apparently my “only presentable serving dish.” “If she’s as polished as you say she is, she’d suspect something the minute we put an onion bagel and smoked salmon on the table. Honestly, who wouldn’t?”

“Me?” I looked behind me to examine the perfectly set dining table. “So are you saying that if we serve her croissants on good china, she won’t suspect that we’re trying to poison her?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying— Wait! No, I’m not trying to poison her!” Leah suddenly shot back. “Which is why… Besides, I’m serving Perrier as a beverage. Nobody poisons Perrier.”

The buzzer went off, masking the groan that escaped my lips. Leah put the finishing touches on the meal and gave me a nod to indicate that I should press the intercom.

“Bianca?” I spoke her name with the most positive inflection I could muster.