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Passion, Betrayal And Killer Highlights
Passion, Betrayal And Killer Highlights
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Passion, Betrayal And Killer Highlights

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“I really don’t think you do,” I mumbled, thinking about the bedroom Leah had shared with her husband for the duration of their marriage.

“Well, we just couldn’t take it anymore. We loved each other so much and we had to be together. Bob told me he was going to be leaving Leah and this time nothing was going to change his mind. And I…I know this is so awful, but I was overjoyed. I was so sure that we would have this perfect future, but I didn’t think of Leah, now did I.”

“I would say the answer to that is a big no,” I agreed.

Bianca nodded and looked at her petal-pink nails. “Bob had told me how delicate her mental state was. He warned me she wouldn’t take it well—and who would? Who could possibly be gracious in the face of losing Bob?”

She had a point. If Bob had left me I would have been too busy celebrating to be gracious.

“I just didn’t anticipate that our betrayal would push her over the edge,” Bianca continued. “And now look what I’ve done! Leah may have been the one to pull the trigger but I’m the one who set this whole thing in motion.” Bianca’s lower lip began to tremble. “It’s all my fault that the love of my life is dead!”

The really frightening thing about this monologue was that she actually seemed to be buying into her own bullshit. I tried to see her the way Bob must have: a soft-spoken, white, Christian, polished, naive girl with a pedigree and a knack for codependency. In other words, she was everything Leah was not.

Anatoly studied Bianca for a moment before speaking. “There’s evidence that indicates Leah is not the one responsible for Bob’s death.”

He told the lie so effortlessly that I almost believed it myself.

“There is?” Bianca’s tears momentarily stopped. “But she’s the only one that had any kind of motive. Bob was so gentle and thoughtful—no one other than Leah would ever hurt a hair on his head.”

“I would,” I whispered. But if Anatoly or Bianca heard, they chose to ignore me.

“What about your ex-fiancé, Kevin?” Anatoly asked. “Is there any chance he wanted to reconcile with you? Perhaps Bob was in his way.”

Bianca tucked her hair behind her ears and shook her head sadly. “Kevin proposed to his new girlfriend three months ago and the two of them moved to Boston. He could care less who I’m with. The only man who really cared about me was…was…”

“My sister’s husband,” I finished for her.

Bianca shot me a pleading look. “I want you to know that I don’t intend to contact the police. If they come to me I guess I’ll have to answer their questions, but I don’t want to make any more trouble for Leah. I know I’m as much to blame as she is, and I…I don’t want to take both of Jack’s parents away from him. I don’t want that at all.” She averted her eyes and her shoulders began to tremble. “All I really want is for Bob to be alive again.”

Anatoly sighed and drummed his fingers against the armrest impatiently. “Bianca, do you know for sure that Bob informed Leah he was leaving her this last time?”

Bianca nodded without making eye contact. “He came over here right after he broke the news to her. It was the last time…we were together.” She swallowed hard. “I can’t understand how he could be gone when just yesterday he was making love to me.”

I tried to swallow my disgust, but it was impossible.

“Did he say anything about the rest of his plans for that day?” Anatoly asked.

“He said he was going to work and then he was going to go home and pack. He was planning on moving in with me that night, but said he might not get here until late. I waited and waited, and when he wasn’t here by eleven, I turned on the news and—” She stopped herself and stared fixedly at the hardwood floor.

Anatoly cleared his throat. “Did Bob ever talk about anyone he disliked or who he felt disliked him?”

“Other than Leah?”

“Yes,” Anatoly and I said in unison.

“No, everyone loved Bob.”

Those were the same words Leah had used. I had a quick flashback of a Saturday Night Live skit in which the audience of a Broadway play came out of the theater and one after another recited in a monotone voice, “It was better than Cats, I’d see it again and again.” Maybe Erika was on to something with the brainwashing thing. Worse, maybe Bob had turned all the women he had contact with into San Francisco’s version of a Stepford wife. But that didn’t work because San Francisco’s version of a Stepford wife would probably be a drag queen.

“All right, I think I have all I need for right now.” Anatoly stood up, and Bianca followed suit. “May I contact you again if I have further questions?” he asked.

Bianca nodded. She looked at me and pulled nervously at the sweater draped over her shoulders. “Please tell Leah that I’m sorry.”

“I can’t imagine that your apology would mean anything to my sister.”

Anatoly took hold of my wrist. “We’re leaving now.” He pulled me toward the door, but I resisted.

“One more thing,” I said. “May I see the bracelet?”

Anatoly shot me a questioning look. I had forgotten to tell him about the Tiffany’s receipt Leah had found.

Bianca flushed. “You know about that?”

I fixed her with a cool stare. Bianca bit her lip.

“I’ll go get it,” she whispered, and retreated into the next room.

“What bracelet?” Anatoly hissed.

“Yesterday Leah told me she found a receipt for a six-thousand-dollar bracelet.”

“And I’m just hearing about this now?”

“It’s not like it’s important. The only reason I brought it up is that I want to see what it looks like.”

“Really,” he said dryly. “This isn’t about trying to make Bianca feel guilty about the gift?”

I shrugged. “It’s an added perk.”

Bianca reappeared with a wide gold bracelet that was covered in small, sparkling yellow stones. She cupped her hand and held it out for my inspection. I poked it gingerly with my finger. “Wow, Liz Taylor’s got nothing on you. Are these diamonds?”

“Yellow sapphires.”

“Huh, those suckers must have been on special or something.”

“He gave it to me to celebrate the one-year anniversary of the day we met.” Bianca’s voice took on a dreamy tone. “He got the date wrong by six and a half weeks but I never corrected him. It was just such a romantic gesture.”

Extravagant seemed like a better word for it. Still, Bob clearly had better taste than I had given him credit for. I pulled my hand away from the bracelet. “It’s amazing how profitable immorality can be, isn’t it?”

Bianca’s lower lip started doing its trembling thing and Anatoly grabbed my arm again. “We’re really going now,” he said, more to me than to her.

Bianca trailed behind us and watched glumly as we stepped onto the elevator.

“I can’t believe I allowed you to come on these interviews,” Anatoly muttered after the doors had closed.

“I’m sorry, but she messed up my sister’s life and I don’t really give a shit how sorry she is about it. She’s probably the one who killed Bob. I mean, if she loved him so much, why is she extending her apologies to the woman she believes to be his murderer?”

“That was a bit strange.” Anatoly stepped out of the elevator on the first floor and escorted me to the sidewalk. “Do you think there’s any truth to Bianca’s assertion that Bob tried to leave Leah nine months ago?”

“No way. Leah would have told me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Leah doesn’t suffer quietly. Ever.”

Anatoly sighed and looked back at Bianca’s building.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I’m thinking that if the police end up talking to Bianca they’re going to think that she…”

“Has an unhealthy lack of cynicism?” I offered.

Anatoly laughed softly. “She is incredibly naive, but what I was going to say was that she comes across as being credible.” He looked at me and the gravity in his expression chilled me. “They’re going to think she is a lot more credible than your sister.”

I didn’t say anything, and Anatoly was wise enough not to push the issue. We mounted his Harley and rode to my apartment in silence. When he stopped the bike in front of my doorstep I muttered a goodbye and walked swiftly to the door.

“Sophie?”

I turned to see that Anatoly had gotten off his bike and was standing with his helmet in his hands. “I know this is hard, but for a moment I want you to pretend that you don’t love Leah. I want you to think about the things she’s done in the past and the things she hasn’t, and then I want you to tell me if you believe she could be capable of murder.”

I swallowed and turned away.

“Sophie, even if the answer is yes, I’ll still help you protect her.”

“Why?” I shook my head in bewilderment. “It’s not like you owe me anything. If anything, it’s the other way around.”

“Because,” Anatoly said softly, “I have a brother.”

This was news to me. Fifty million questions flooded my mind. Did he live nearby? Was he still in Russia? Or had they immigrated together to Israel but not to America? But it didn’t seem like the right time to ask.

“So about Leah…” Anatoly prodded.

“Right—Leah.” I thought about the woman who was my sister. I replayed the conversation we had had the afternoon before Bob’s death and then I thought about Brad Thompson. Brad was from Leah’s pre-Bob days and he had been the “love of her life.” She had assured me, our mother and everyone else who would listen that he was going to propose. And then it happened—the breakup. He told her that she was fun to mess around with but not nearly good enough to marry. I sat by her side as she cried into her pillow and listed off all the things she wanted to do to him, his car and his reputation. But when I had suggested that we get some of my male friends to start a fight with him at a bar and rough him up, Leah had been horrified.

“She didn’t do it,” I said slowly.

“Are you sure?”

I smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll admit that I had some fleeting doubts, but I know my sister. She didn’t do it.”

“All right, then. I’m going to do a background check on Bianca. Maybe she’s not as credible as she seems.”

As I watched Anatoly put his helmet on and drive away, I was overcome with relief. Fear had clouded my judgment, but now I was thinking clearly and I knew Leah was innocent. All I had to do was prove it.

I let myself in and was just opening the apartment door when my phone started ringing. I looked down at Mr. Katz, who was watching me expectantly. “I’ll feed you right after I get this,” I assured him before grabbing the phone. “Y’ello?”

“It’s me.”

There was no mistaking the husky voice of my closest and most abrasive friend. “Hey, Dena, what’s up?”

“What’s up? How about the murder of your brother-in-law?”

“Oh, yeah, that.” I went to the kitchen and poured Mr. Katz some kibble then took the phone back into the bedroom with me.

“Jesus, just when I thought things were getting back to normal.”

“Tell me about it.” I sat on the edge of my bed and pulled my boots off and threw them in the general direction of my closet. “At least Leah’s okay.”

“Is she? Did she ever find out if he was screwing around on her?”

When I didn’t answer, Dena groaned. “Shit, do the police know about the affair?”

“Nope.” Mr. Katz wandered into my room and glared at me. Undoubtedly he had seen the bottom of his food bowl.

“Thank God for small favors. Look, I’m with Mary Ann, can we stop by?”

“Sure, I’m not doing anything.”

“Perfect, we’re in the car and about a block from your place, so with any luck we’ll be able to find a parking spot within the next fifteen minutes.”

It would be so nice if Dena was being sarcastic, but fifteen minutes to find parking in my neighborhood was a pretty realistic estimate—assuming she didn’t mind parking four or more city blocks away.

By the time Dena and Mary Ann arrived I had brewed a pot of coffee and was midway through my second cup.

The minute she walked in the door Mary Ann pulled me into a hug. “Sophie, I’m so sorry your family has to go through this.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled into her chestnut-brown curls. I pulled back slowly, careful not to spill the coffee I still held on to her white three-quarter-length sleeve wrap top. It was slightly cropped and exposed a little over an inch of perfectly flat abs.

Dena’s hug was briefer and a little less emotionally charged, but then again, Dena wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely type. She walked over to the covered mirror and knitted her thick Sicilian eyebrows. “What’s up with the new wall hangings?”

I grinned and stepped into the kitchen to pour them both a cup of caffeine. “It’s Jewish tradition to cover the mirrors after a family member dies.”

“With sarongs decorated with rainbow-colored salmon?” Dena asked. “Oh, wait, I get it! Lox! The salmon are there to remind us that some things are more enjoyable dead.”

“Dena, that is not funny!” Mary Ann said. But even she couldn’t keep a straight face as Dena and I collapsed into giggles.

“My God, we’re horrible human beings.” I handed a cup of black coffee to Dena and a cup half filled with cream and a few tablespoons’ worth of sugar to Mary Ann.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Dena sat down on my couch and propped her feet up on my coffee table so that the thick heels of her boots stuck out like phallic symbols. “Seriously, though, how could anyone find Bob interesting enough to kill? There’s no way that little bean counter could inspire that kind of passion.”

“Mmm, I don’t know about that.” I sat down opposite her on my love seat and Mary Ann quickly took her place by my side. “When Leah told me he was leaving her and Jack for his mistress, who just happens to be twenty-one years old, I entertained some pretty violent thoughts.”

“Yeah, but you’re always entertaining violent thoughts. You write murder mysteries, for Christ sake.”

“That’s not fair,” Mary Ann said. “You don’t have to be a violent person to write about murder. I work at the Lancôme counter and I don’t think about makeup all the time. I’m not even wearing any now.”

I looked at her flawless porcelain complexion and tried to suppress my jealously.