Wicked Obsessions (11 page)

"You said you didn't see or hear from him after he left here Friday, around four o'clock, with the money you gave him. Is that correct?"

"That's right."

"Was that the usual time he'd get home from work?"

Teri didn't care for his use of the past tense. It seemed... final. "Usual, as in about half the time, yes. He didn't always come directly home after work. That was another problem we had."

"Hmmm, yes. That would agree with something a co-worker said about him. Would you mind answering some personal questions for me, Mrs. Gambini? You never know what little detail is going to help."

"Of course. What would you like to know?"

For the next half hour, Teri answered seemingly irrelevant questions about Rico's background and habits. But when Kidder started probing into their marital relationship, she grew defensive.

"Did you and your husband fight on a regular basis? About his gambling, running around or anything else?"

"Doesn't every couple have their share of arguments?"

"But you stayed married in spite of his... weaknesses."

He made her feel like she was under an interrogation lamp, like an incorrect answer could automatically convict her of murdering Rico herself. "I told you we were getting divorced. There are a number of reasons it took me so long to force the issue. One was that our religion forbids it."

It was the first thing she had said that caused his deadpan expression to alter with interest. "I see. Do you work outside the home, Mrs. Gambini?"

"I'm an artist. My studio is above the garage, so I guess the answer to your question is yes and no."

"An artist! How I envy creative people. I have absolutely no talent myself, but I sure can appreciate it. Would you let me take a look at some of your work? It would be great to go back and tell the boys we had a real artist in our station yesterday."

Teri would have preferred that he just go back to the station right now, but at least a tour of her studio would get him out of her house, and maybe on his way.

After she escorted him up to her work area, however, he seemed only slightly interested in the paintings themselves.

Pointing to the closed darkroom door, he asked, "What's in here?" and then opened it to look inside before she could answer.

When he finally left, she took another look at her studio, trying to imagine it from his viewpoint. What had he been looking for? His gaze had scanned every inch—the table, her work station, the props, the day bed... She went back downstairs and walked through the house asking the same question.

In her bedroom, she grimaced at the unmade bed, the open closet door, and the clothes and shoes she had dropped on the floor last night. Then she remembered his comment about Rico's car being impounded. Could he suspect that Rico was not really missing, but hiding right here in his own house? What reason would she have for trying to mislead the police that way?

She played with the idea of a fraudulent insurance claim. That might make sense if they were planning to use the money to pay off a big gambling debt of Rico's or to run away to South America, which she would never do. But didn't the insurance company require a dead body before they paid any benefits?

The other possibility that came to mind was that she and Rico could be using the police to convince the bad guys of his disappearance so they would get off his back. The problem there was that it now appeared that Rico had paid them off. Unless that wasn't his only outstanding debt...

A third and more frightening alternative was that Kidder suspected
she
personally had something to do with Rico's disappearance and was looking for evidence of some kind. He had asked a lot of questions about their marriage. But she had told him about Rico signing the settlement agreement and agreeing to an uncontested divorce. There didn't seem to be any rationale behind her doing Rico harm. He had gotten out of her life exactly as she had told him to.

So, what was Kidder looking for?

* * *

Kidder turned on the hand-held tape recorder as he drove away from the Gambini house. He had discovered long ago that people talked more freely when they didn't think he was taking notes. Thus he had begun verbally recording his impressions immediately after an interview ended. Fortunately his memory hadn't gone the way of his hearing.

He shook off his initial disappointment about the way this interview had gone and instead considered the challenge that lay ahead. It would have been all too easy if the morning had turned out the way he'd expected.

His early morning, impromptu visit had served only to unnerve Teri Gambini a little. He hadn't found Drew Marshall breakfasting in the kitchen or lounging in her bed. There was no pair of champagne glasses in the sink signifying a private celebration. Nothing anywhere in the house or the studio supported his instinct in this case. He could be wrong, though he seldom was. Time would tell, of course.

His nose said she hadn't been completely honest with him. On the other hand, she had told him things that a woman guilty of knocking off her husband normally wouldn't reveal. That might make sense if it hadn't been her hand that had done the dirty deed, but her lover's.

Even though this wasn't technically a homicide case yet, he had a long list of ideas and questions to be investigated. He would begin by following up on Rico Gambini's undelivered mail in order to nail down the time of his disappearance then compare where wifey was at that time. After that, he would start searching for motives among every possible suspect. Although his nose pointed him toward her, he couldn't ignore the fact that the vic was a gambler and womanizer. Those two characteristics made a lot of potential enemies, one of which
could
be a murderer.

He would work around the clock. Sooner or later the
corpus delicti
would turn up. And Detective William F. Kidder would be way ahead of everyone else.

But it had to be soon. He desperately needed to crack a big case fast. That would show those administrative rocket scientists that the old man still had what it took to be a homicide detective.

A desk job in the property room! He hadn't received the official transfer notice yet, but that was where rumor said he was being shipped. They might as well exile him to Siberia. He would be cooped up in that stuffy, windowless room all day long, then go home to his silent house, all cluttered with the gewgaws his wife had loved and he hadn't had the heart to throw out. The mere thought of that kind of existence had him considering how the wrong end of his gun would taste.

Once that fatal notice reached his hands, he would have two weeks to report to his new assignment, two weeks to solve a crime that might normally take months or even years. But that was exactly the kind of grandstand play he needed to convince admin to postpone his transfer.

If a body was never found, there could be no murder charge. And if the mob was behind Gambini's disappearance, it might never be discovered. A really lazy detective, one who didn't have his job on the line, might put the file aside and chalk it up as an unsolvable disappearance.

But not Detective William F. Kidder. He didn't take things at face value, especially when his job was on the line.

Fortunately for him, two less obvious suspects had fallen right in his lap. The key was the seemingly unimportant fact she had shared with him.

Their religion prohibited divorce.
Having a signed settlement agreement did not constitute the wife's freedom. Teri Gambini might have been stuck with her good-for-nothing husband until, as the vows said, death parted them. A widow, on the other hand, had the church's permission to remarry.

Besides that, the lovers had made one major error besides letting him see how they cared for each other. Having two witnesses to the alleged thug's threat was overkill. Kidder figured the man could have been hired to dress up and reel off the standard threatening words, but Kidder didn't buy the idea that one of the mob's errand boys was quite that stupid. A single witness, made to overhear the incident accidentally, would have been far more credible. The two suspects he had in mind, however, would have been acting on emotion, not intellect.

And between the two of them, Teri Gambini was clearly the weaker. It wouldn't take much to break that nervous little bird. Why, he bet he could have her warbling a confession in less time than it took to clean his weapon.

Chapter 7

As the sun rose Friday morning, Teri was no closer to getting any answers. She had no idea where her husband was, and she still couldn't imagine what Detective Kidder had been looking for. Nor had Kidder been in touch with her again. With each passing day she grew more certain that Rico had met with some terrible fate, but the lack of any proof to back it up had left her in a nerve-wracking limbo.

Selena's unexpected arrival at the studio door just as she was about to start working didn't help any.

"Teri! You look absolutely awful," Selena exclaimed without her usual tact. "Do you have the flu?"

For a brief moment Teri was tempted to say yes and let it go at that. She wasn't sure she was up to repeating everything again and then convincing Selena not to worry about her. But eventually Selena would find out the truth and be hurt that Teri hadn't considered her enough of a friend to confide something so important. "No, it's not the flu. I've had a rough couple of days. But why are you here? I thought I let you know I wouldn't need you until Monday."

Selena rolled her eyes. "You may have said that but the tone of your voice told me something was wrong. Now that I see you, I'm more worried than I was before. What's going on?"

Teri sat down at the table and Selena followed her lead. "Rico's missing." When Selena didn't react to that with so much as a raised eyebrow, Teri reworded her statement. "I threw him out Thursday night after that cretin was here. Now no one's seen him since sometime Saturday."

"How nice."

"Selena! What an awful thing to say!"

Selena's perfect brow creased from that mild criticism, and her calm expression altered to one of bewilderment. "But it's the truth. Surely between the two of us we can speak the truth."

Teri felt acid flush into her stomach at the thought of how Detective Kidder would interpret Selena's offhand comment. "Selena, please. Don't say something like that, even in jest."

"Why? No one's here but us. We both know you wanted to get rid of him, and now it looks like you got what you wished for." Her face broke into a rare ear-to-ear smile. "And you don't even have to double my paychecks." She giggled and gave Teri a playful poke.

Teri failed to understand what was so comical, but Selena was quick to fill her in.

"Don't you remember what you said? We were sitting right here, having coffee. You had just found out Rico had been lying to you again, and you said, 'If I thought for one minute you could get Rico out of my life permanently by having sex with him, I'd not only give you my blessing, I'd double your next dozen paychecks!' Then we laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes. It was one of the best times I've ever had!"

Selena's aquamarine eyes glowed with a joyous light, but Teri couldn't bring herself to share her pleasure in recalling the conversation. She remembered it all right, but with an enormous amount of guilt that she'd ever had such a wicked thought. But Selena not only remembered it, she'd memorized the exact words. And for Selena to call it one of her best times seemed to make the bad joke that much worse. "Selena—"

"Oh, now, don't you worry." Selena squeezed Teri's forearm and whispered breathily, "Your secret wish is safe with me. I'd never tell a soul."

"I know but, it's just that there's this detective—"

"What?" Selena's eyes abruptly filled with anger.

"I had to report Rico's disappearance to the police."

"But I wanted... I mean, why didn't you call me? I would have handled that for you, or at least gone along with you. Really, Teri, you shouldn't have tried to take care of this on your own. It was thoughtless and inconsiderate. After all, that's what best friends are for."

Teri couldn't understand what had caused Selena's anger, but as her irritated expression was replaced by a hangdog look of devotion, she realized the young woman felt left out. She again decided not to mention that Drew had been with her. In a far corner of her mind, she noted that Selena had added the word "best" to their friendship.