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Naturally, Mr. Macho didn’t believe me. He had to go up and see her dead body for himself. As soon as the elevator door closed, I looked at his guest book to see who’d signed in within the past three hours. There were only two names. Mine, and somebody named J. Smith. Yeah, right. No doubt it was “J. Smith” I’d just chased down the stairs. I used the security guard’s phone and called the cops.
They arrived quickly and we all went upstairs to Taylor’s apartment, where we found the security guard wandering around, looking in closets and under the bed. Clearly, he hadn’t gotten it when I said the killer ran out the fire exit.
The two uniformed officers told him to go downstairs, said that they would question him later, then asked me to have a seat in the kitchen, which seemed odd to me since Taylor was there. It unnerved me, her body lying so close, her eyes staring up at me.
“Tell me what happened,” the taller of the two said as he took the chair opposite mine and the shorter one went off somewhere else in the apartment.
I’d already given some thought to what I would say, and it seemed to me that being honest was the best way to go. Start lying and I was bound to trip myself up. As briefly as possible, I told him.
He wrote it all down, then had me read it over and sign it. Several minutes later, a middle-aged, ordinary-looking man in a dull brown suit came in and walked around Taylor’s body, checking her out before he sat across from me.
“I’m Detective Schumski. I know you’ve already given your statement, but I’d like to hear it from you.”
He stared at me as I spoke, without asking any questions. When I was done, he got up and left the room, then came back and said, “Did you leave a cab driver downstairs without paying him?”
“I told you, I was chasing Olga and didn’t take the time to get my purse before I left.” I glanced at the entry to the kitchen. “Is he still there?”
“I paid him. You owe the city thirty-two bucks.”
“Thank you.”
He gave me another hard stare. “I’m taking you in, Miss Pearl. There are way too many questions I need answered, and there’s a dead foreign dignitary across town. Until I have a better handle on what went on tonight, you’ll be a guest of the city.”
So I went downstairs and rode to the police station in the back of a squad car. Once there, I sat around and waited aeons before Schumski and another detective came in and asked a thousand more questions. Not only did they have the deposit and check copies from the office, the ones I’d handed over to Taylor and she’d conveniently taken home, but they also had the contents of Taylor’s surprise package—multiple Valikov Interiors invoices made out to me, covering three hundred thousand dollars’worth of Chinese antiques and furniture. For ten thousand bucks, an antique fish pot with a wooden stand, and three pairs of Chinese wedding shoes, the tiny kind women wore when their feet were bound. A real bargain at twenty-two thousand dollars was a jade horse from the Yuan Dynasty. All of the invoices were for similar items, equally pricey.
I said to Schumski, “Why would a person embezzle money, then spend all of it on this kind of stuff? It seems to me a person would buy things like cars, or go on a trip, or maybe blow it on some expensive jewelry.”
He glanced at his partner. “You tell me, Ms. Pearl. Maybe you have a thing for Chinese antiques.”
“Detective, I am not behind this, and I didn’t murder Taylor. I’m being honest and forthright because I want you to find the woman who did do it. Besides, if I bought all of this stuff, where is it?”
“My guess would be that it’s in your home, either here or in Midland. That’s why we’re getting a search warrant for both places. We’re also going to get the signature card from that bank in Kansas, and I’ll bet it’s a spot-on match with yours.”
He was wrong about that. The signature card had to be my ace in the hole. I would have to remember signing a signature card. I’d hire the best handwriting expert in the country to prove it. I was not going to prison. Period.
Nevertheless, thinking of all the circumstantial evidence against me, including the phone call and the catfight, I felt my heart sink.
It sank further when Schumski implied I had something to do with Ambassador Wu’s death. After he spoke to the detective who’d been at Steve’s, he said I had the opportunity to put poison in the ambassador’s salad when I went to the kitchen.
“Why would I tell the man about the China brides, then kill him? That makes absolutely no sense at all.”
He didn’t see it that way, but he was stretching it to charge me with Ambassador Wu’s death, so he settled with suspicion of only one homicide, along with embezzlement and fraud.
A little while later, while I cooled my heels in the small interrogation room, they got statements from a couple of the CERF staff who’d seen Taylor and me shout at each other, and me warning her not to screw with me. They got a statement from Parker about what I’d found, and how I’d approached him about it and wanted to do my own investigation. Yeah, that didn’t look good. But the last nail in my coffin was when they matched my fingerprints to those on the Valikov Interiors invoices. I knew for certain then that someone had gone to an extraordinary amount of trouble to set me up, to use me as their scapegoat. I had no idea how my fingerprints had gotten on those invoices, but I was hell-bent on finding out.
I got to make one phone call and used it to call my attorney, Ed. After I told him I was in deep doo-doo, he sighed, like he couldn’t believe I was such a pain in his ass, and I decided I’d kill him if he said he wouldn’t help me. Luckily for Ed’s longevity, he said he’d be there as soon as he could get a flight out.
“Whatever happens, Pink, whatever they ask, or say to you, don’t say a word. Understand?”
Kinda late for that, wasn’t it? “I understand,” I said anyway. “Ed, I left Mom at a party hours ago. Would you call and tell her what happened? They won’t let me make any more calls.”
“Does she have her cell phone?”
“Uh, no. It wouldn’t fit in her purse. The party was at Santorelli’s.”
Dead silence. Then he said, “I’ll call.” And then, in a very cold voice, “Remember, say nothing.”
“I remember.”
But it was damn hard not to say anything at all, especially when they booked me for murder and embezzlement, took a mug shot, then locked me up in a room with a lot of extremely sorry-looking women. To be fair, I probably looked pretty lousy myself.
I sat there all night and ignored everyone. One chick tried to pick a fight with me, but I turned away and closed my eyes and she finally laid off.
It’s funny, the things we think of in times of major crisis. All that night, the only thing I could think about was Mrs. Han, and how much she wanted to go home, and how much I hoped that she’d gotten what she wanted. Maybe she was from Siberia, a very unwelcoming, cold place to live, but it was her home, and her people were there. I had people back in Midland, which was also somewhat unwelcoming—a long, dusty stretch of flatland, broken only by oil-lease roads and pumpjacks, covered with scrubby mesquite and cactus. I was determined to go back there, to be with my people. I vowed that I would, as soon as I found the bastard who framed me.
Chapter 3
By nine o’clock the next morning, I had a sketchy plan. But it was a start. One thing was sure—no way I was gonna sit around and wait for the police or the FBI to find out who set me up. Why would they, when they already had a perfectly good suspect?
The guard, a hefty woman named Clara, came and let me out. She walked me down a long hallway, to a flight of stairs and another hall to a door with a window. Inside was Ed.
I almost hyperventilated. God, he looked good. Like salvation and sex. Dressed in one of his killer navy suits, with a red silk tie that was exactly like every other tie in his closet and his usually longish dark hair freshly cut, he could almost pass for another one of the millions of suits walking around Washington. But not quite. Something about Ed is unlike any other man. Maybe because I know what he looks like naked. Or maybe because he’s got an attitude that even the most expensive Brooks Brothers suit can’t disguise.
I’ve gotten in the habit of falling in and out of love with Ed, and at that moment I was dead dog certain he was the most supreme male on planet Earth. Overwhelmed with an emotion I never wear comfortably, I looked at Ed and wanted to marry him and have ten thousand of his babies.
It’s probably a good thing he didn’t ask just then.
Not caring if he hated my guts—and that’s not to say he did—I walked to him, slid my arms around his waist and burst into tears. I was so bummed out, I wasn’t even embarrassed about losing it.
Being the supreme male he is, Ed wrapped me up and let me bawl all over him and get salty tears on his tie.
Eventually, he set me away from him and pulled a chair out from the small metal table. He handed me a tissue from the box on the table and said, “This is some bad shit, Pink. They’ve got enough to nail your ass but good. They didn’t find anything in your loft here in D.C., or in your apartment in Midland, but it turned out the manager in Midland had taken all the boxes delivered to your door and stored them for you. There’s enough stuff to open a small Chinese antique shop.”
I sniffled and watched him take the chair opposite mine, drag it around the table and sit next to me. “There were quite a few messages on your answering machine from a woman named Sasha, who was updating you about your plans to redecorate the house you’re buying.”
“I don’t know anyone named Sasha, and besides, why would I make plans to redecorate a house I don’t own yet?”
“You wouldn’t. It’s all part of the scam, Pink.” He leaned forward a little and looked directly into my face. “I want you to tell me everything, from start to finish. Don’t leave anything out. Got it?”
Nodding, I blew my nose, tossed the snotty tissue toward the wastebasket, missed, then turned back to Ed. I told him all of it, my tears drying up the longer I talked and the more pissed off I became. By the end of it, I could have put any televangelist to shame, I was so righteous.
In typical Ed fashion, he didn’t get too worked up about it. He reached out and smoothed my hair away from my face. “You look like hell.” His gaze dropped to the neckline of my dress, along with his hand. While his long, warm fingers dipped into my cleavage on the pretense of feeling the fabric, he said evenly, “Nice dress. I like that it’s pink. I bet Santorelli liked it, too.”
Turning away from him, I didn’t rise to the remark. “What does how I look have to do with anything?”
“You need to look more conservative to the judge for your arraignment.” He nodded toward a small bag next to the door. “I stopped at your loft after I left Santorelli’s.”
I shot him a startled look. “You went to Santorelli’s?”
“Your mother is over there. She spent the night.”
I stood and walked around the perimeter of the small room. “I hear about five stories in your voice. So let me have ’em. First, what did Mom say about this?”
“Lots, and most of it I can’t repeat because my mama taught me better.”
“So she’s just mad? She’s not crying? I can take anything so long as she doesn’t cry. I hate it when she cries.”
“Oh, she cried, then she went off on a shouting tangent, then she cried again.” He smiled wryly. “I’d like to beat up the senator and leave him for dead, but I gotta say, his dad is one cool dude. Did you know he was a POW in Vietnam?”
“Yes, I know.”
“It’s pretty weird, watching him and your mom. Can’t say I’ve ever seen Jane like that.”
I stopped walking. “Like what?”
Ed cocked his head to one side, as though he had to think about how to phrase his thoughts. Finally he said, “There’s some kind of strange chemistry there. On the surface, she can’t stand Lou. She must have told him to shut the fuck up at least five times, and I didn’t blame her because he kept coming up with wacked-out, commando ideas about how to help you. Jane said if we left it up to him, we’d all be in prison. Or dead.” Ed shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. “Lou is one of those guys who says exactly what he thinks, and to hell with being politically correct, or tactful, or whatever. He told Jane she couldn’t possibly be any help because she’s too damn emotional, that if she didn’t stop crying and shouting, he’d force-feed her a sedative.”
“Did the castration take long?”
Ed stared across the small room at me. “That’s the strange part, Pink. She agreed with him. Then she sat down and asked me what I planned to do to help you out of this jam.”
I told him what I knew about Lou and his attraction to Mom, and what we’d all overheard through the ventilation system before the ambassador became so sick. “I can’t believe, considering how she insisted she wanted to leave, that she spent the night there.”
“Naturally, after I called and told her you’d been arrested, she was upset. Lou wouldn’t let her take a cab and insisted on taking her home, but when they got to your loft, the cops were all over it and wouldn’t let her in. So Lou made her go back to Santorelli’s house with him, and she stayed all night. When I got there this morning, she was crying and he was fixing breakfast. Gave her a couple of fried eggs, bacon, sausage and toast with butter. Jane says, that’s a heart attack on a plate. Lou says, eat it now, dammit. And she picked up the fork and ate it.”
Oh, man. Mom was sliding into doormat mode. This was bad. On the other hand, it meant she was definitely not wishy-washy about Lou. All her shouting aside, Mom liked him. She wouldn’t be a doormat for a man she didn’t like. The problem was, how could she be involved with him and not become a doormat? Jeez, I wished Mom would get some counseling.
I glanced at Ed. “You’ve very carefully not mentioned Steve.”
Ed shrugged. “He’s upset, but then who could blame him? You’re the future Mrs. Santorelli. Possible First Lady. How’s it gonna look if you’ve got a parole officer following you around the White House?”
I moved back to sit next to him. “That’s not fair, Ed.”
He frowned at me. “You think I care about being fair? The guy bought you a Mercedes. He asked you to marry him on a billboard. He wants to make you First Lady. How the hell can I compete with that?”
“It’s not a competition.”
“You don’t know one damn thing about guys, Pink. It’s always about competition. Always.”
“So buy me a Mercedes and ask me to marry you on a billboard. You can afford it. Granted, you can’t get to that First Lady thing very easily, but you could run for mayor and I could be First Lady of Midland.”
“You’re not even kinda funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny, Ed. I’m pointing out that what works for one guy won’t work for another.” I looked up at him. “As well as you know me, do you think I really give a hang about a car, or a romantic billboard, or living at the White House? I mean, seriously?”
He blinked a couple of times. “Hell, I don’t know. You’re a girl, and girls always go for that kinda stuff.”
“I said no. About the billboard, I mean.”
His laugh didn’t hold a lot of humor. “I know how that feels.” He leaned back in the chair until it rested on the rear legs. “Maybe you should say yes. I’m thinking being the fiancée of a Big Dog senator would get you a little more leeway. They might actually give it a shot to find who really did swipe five hundred Gs from CERF and who offed Taylor.”
Shocked and amazed, I gave him a scrutinizing look. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Damn straight.”
“So I should get engaged to Steve, then break it off after I’m exonerated?”
Ed shrugged. “I guess that would be up to you.”
“You really do hate his guts, don’t you?”
“Not true. I actually think he’s an okay guy. And it’s clear he’s got it bad for you, Pink. Crazy in love, even.”
“It would be incredibly selfish and cruel to say yes, then break it off. I’d be using him, and there’s no way I’ll do it.”
“Maybe you should suggest it. Be up-front about it.”
“Suppose I did, and he said yes. How would you feel about that?”
He dropped all four chair legs back to the linoleum floor. “For now, I’m willing to step aside, if it means keeping you out of prison.”
I jumped to my feet and started around the room again. “Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Be all selfless and wonderful.”
“Yeah, I’ll show you wonderful. Take your clothes off.”
I stopped. “You can’t be serious!”
He stared at my cleavage. “As a heart attack.”
I began to pace again and he watched me for a while before he said, “All of our issues aside, I gotta say we’re unparalleled in the sack.”
“Gimme a break, Ed. It’s never been just about sex.”
He cleared his throat and stood. “Yeah, well, all of it’s moot if I don’t get you cleaned up for the arraignment. Come here and take off that dress.”
I went to him and took off the dress. He rose from grabbing the bag and froze, his gaze fixed on my breasts, which were sort of way out there on account of I had on a push-up bra.
“I guess it’d be really bad form to make love to you right now.”
“Really bad. For one thing, I’m not into being watched, and Clara might have a stroke out there by the window. For another, it would only be fun for you. I’m freaking out way too bad to enjoy it, Ed.”
He pulled a black dress out of the bag. “Another difference between men and women.”
“We wear dresses and you don’t?”
