B004183M70 EBOK (28 page)

"Slow down. I don't want you leaving us. You're a
valuable person to have around."

She chuckled. "Okay, the biggest news—I mean, besides
Mr. Williams not being here—is that I transferred a call from Precision Knives
to Gina. They want to shoot an ad with Debbie Ann using their knives. The ad's
supposed to run in newspapers across the state."

"Debbie Ann must be over the moon."

"She is! The shoot is scheduled for Tuesday on her set.
I'm making a list of things you should know when you come back, but that's the
main one. Are you coming in today?"

"No, I'm not. I'm confident you have everything under
control, and I have some things to do," I said.

"Before you go, tell me something. Did you bring back
anything pretty from Saint Thomas?"

"I didn't have time for shopping, but I found this huge
conch shell on the beach. It's heavy, and you can hear the sound of the ocean
in it. My roommate and I put it in the center of our coffee table. That and a
slight sunburn across my nose and cheeks are all I brought back."

Danielle chuckled and we ended the call.

"You want more coffee, Darlene?"

"No, thanks."

I plopped down on the sectional. "Bradley's not at the
office."

Darlene shook her head. "Finelli can't still have him in
custody, can he?"

I bit my lower lip, reached up, and twirled a piece of my
hair. "There's only one way to find out."

Darlene nodded. "I'll go with you."

Darlene and I exited the cab in front of the police station,
me in a pale green suit, and Darlene in a short-sleeved lavender A-line dress
that tied at the neck.

I opened the door to the station and almost cursed.

"You again?" Officer Lonegan said. He stood behind
the desk looking more unkempt than he had last Sunday.

Darlene turned to me. "You know this person?"

"Who are you, Red?" the officer asked.

I answered. "She's my friend. Have you got Mr. Williams
in jail?"

Officer Lonegan smirked. "Your boyfriend? That would be
none of your business."

Darlene said, "Get Finelli out here then."

The officer's eyebrows came together. "Hey, missy, did
you forget who's in charge here? I recommend you both take yourselves off. The
detective's gone out for lunch."

"We'll wait," I said, and led Darlene to the long
wooden bench behind us. We sat at the far end, away from the officer.

He picked up his newspaper, folded it, and said, "You
can wait here all day if you want. All the same to me. But if either of you
causes any trouble, I'll put you behind bars myself."

Darlene started to get up. I put my hand on her arm and
whispered in her ear, "Don't let him rattle you. He's one of those people
who've reached a certain age and are unhappy with their life."

We waited in silence lest Officer Lonegan overhear our
conversation. Fortunately, only fifteen minutes went by before Detective
Finelli entered the building carrying a deli bag and a bottle of Coke.

Darlene and I stood.

Finelli saw us and blew out a deep breath. "I have
nothing to say to either one of you at the present time."

"What if we have evidence you might
need?" I asked, knowing I didn't have evidence, only conjecture.

"As taxpayers in the state of New
York, I think you are obliged to hear us out," Darlene said in her firm
stewardess-controlling-an-angry-passenger voice.

"Cripes. Follow me. I know you won't
leave until you've given me your ideas on my case," the detective responded.

He led us down the beige hall, past the
desks of curious policemen—Darlene grinned—and into his small office. Motioning
us to sit in the two chairs opposite his desk, he sat in a torn brown leather
chair.

"What's the evidence, Miss
Bennett?" he asked, dropping his deli bag and Coke on his desk and picking
up a pencil.

"Do you still have Mr. Williams in
jail?" I asked.

Detective Finelli leaned back in his chair,
making it creak in protest. "I didn't realize I was giving you
information."

Darlene said, "Maybe if we work
together, Suzie's murder will be solved."

He looked at Darlene. "I've already
made an arrest, Miss Roland. Are you telling me I can't do my job?"

"No," she said. "We just
want to help you, because you have the wrong person in jail."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, then
sighed and addressed me. "Look, Miss Bennett, I know you helped me on that
other case, and that you recently fended off an armed robber with a bottle of
mustard—"

"How did you find out about
that?" I asked, surprised.

"Cops talk to one another," he
said, and coughed. Or smothered a laugh. "The department doesn't encourage
citizens to endanger themselves by getting involved in homicide cases. I've
had a parade of people in here giving me their opinion on who killed Miss
Wexford."

"You'll need to hear us out as
well," I said bluntly.

Then I remembered how I had treated Finelli the last time I'd
seen him.

I leaned forward in my chair. "Listen,
I don't want to argue. I owe you an apology for insulting you when you arrested
Mr. Williams. I'm sorry I said that you hadn't investigated the case properly.
When I was growing up, my parents taught me to respect the law and policemen.
You do have my respect."

Finelli spoke in a gruff voice.
"Apology accepted. In a way, I admire your spunk."

"Oh, thanks," I said, softening
the words with a smile.

"What about me?" Darlene asked.

"The department apologized to you
after the Philip Royal case was closed, Miss Roland," Finelli reminded
her. Then he said, "But what gets me is that the two of you put yourselves
in danger. And the chief doesn't appreciate private citizens meddling in police
matters. You can see my predicament."

"We don't go randomly chasing crooks
and killers, Detective," Darlene said. "Last time I was defending
myself. Now you've got Bebe's boss in jail for strangling that slut Suzie. We
had to get involved."

He sat forward and stared at me. "Miss
Bennett, last Sunday you promised me you wouldn't interfere."

"You're right. But I didn't say I
wouldn't investigate." I gave him my most earnest expression. "I'm
going to confession this afternoon at St. Patrick's. Now, please, eat your
sandwich while we talk."

Finelli snapped his pencil down on his
desk, then reached for the white deli bag. He unwrapped a thick pastrami on
rye. "I'm listening." He took a bite.

"Thank you," I said. "Is Mr.
Williams still in jail?"

I had to wait for him to swallow and take a
long drink from his Coke before he answered. "This is all off the record,
understand? I could lose my job."

"We agree," I assured him.
"Do I look like the kind of woman who would put two young boys' father out
of work?"

"You don't miss anything, do you?
Pickering brought Williams before the judge about two hours ago. Your boss is
out on bail."

"Thank God," I muttered.
"You know Jeff Granford threatened to kill Mr. Williams."

"I've got a team watching the Omaha
boy."

"Good," I said, relief washing
over me. "Do you believe Mr. Pickering has put a private investigator on
the case?"

Finelli took another bite of his sandwich
and wiped his hands on a napkin. After he swallowed, he said, "Williams
was formally charged on Wednesday. Pickering probably didn't want to run up a
bill with a P.I. until he knew the outcome of the grand jury hearing. Then his
job was to get Williams out of jail, which he did. He'll probably hire someone
now."

"Exactly as I feared," I said,
furious at Mr. Pickering and determined to tell Stu how the lawyer had handled
the case so far.

"Miss Bennett, Pickering is a rich
trial lawyer with a high-profile practice. Speaking of which, I've had the
chief breathing down my neck on this case because of the celebrity status of
Miss Wexford. And from where I sit, Williams was caught red-handed."

I crossed my hands in my lap. "Mr.
Williams was with Suzie the night she was killed. However—and this is the
important part—he left her apartment for at least a half an hour. During that
time, the killer strangled Suzie. When Mr. Williams returned he found her dead.
Have you even tried to find a store clerk who could identify him and give him
an alibi?"

"You talkin' about the chocolate
syrup?"

I blushed. "Yes."

"Didn't your boyfriend tell you? He
couldn't find a place nearby that sold the stuff. He didn't buy anything.
Which means no clerk to ID him."

I wanted to scream.

Darlene picked it up. "We've got
suspects, motives, and opportunity."

Finelli put down the sandwich and picked up
his pencil. "Let's hear it."

"First of all," I said,
"there's Lola—another famous model. Suzie pushed Lola out of the
spotlight. I'm a witness to Lola stating that she could strangle Suzie. Those
were her exact words the Thursday before Suzie's murder."

Finelli made notes.

"Next is Jeff Granford, Suzie's
hometown boyfriend. I've spoken to him, and he lived in a fantasy world, where
Suzie was concerned. And he's a bully. You saw him in action yourself at
Suzie's memorial. He could have found out the truth about Pierre Benoit and
Suzie—they were having an affair—or about Mr. Williams and Suzie. I'm going to
find out his address—"

"Granford was questioned and
released," Finelli interrupted. "Don't you go near him, Miss
Bennett. He's violent. I called the Omaha police, and Granford has a history of
beating women."

"There!" Darlene exclaimed.
"With his temper, if he found out the truth about Suzie—he could have
followed her around—it's an easy step from hitting to strangling."

"Says he was teaching a kid to box at
the time of the murder," Finelli said. "Williams was caught at the
scene."

"Jeff was teaching a kid to box at two
in the morning?"

Finelli shrugged.

I made a mental note to follow up on that.
"Then there's Pierre. He was very possessive of Suzie."

Finelli shook his head. "The
photographer has a reputation with the ladies and was known to turn a blind eye
to Miss Wexford's straying."

"Did you know he asked Suzie to marry
him the night before she was murdered?" I asked. "And that she turned
down his proposal?"

Finelli made no comment, but wrote on his
pad again.

"Tell him about Gloria, Bebe,"
Darlene said.

I didn't speak.

"Bebe, you have to! I know you thought
she was your friend, but look how she's treated you. Tell him what Gloria said
about Suzie."

Reluctantly I conceded. "Suzie's
makeup artist, Gloria Castellano, had hated her client for a long time. Gloria
told me on more than one occasion that she could kill Suzie. After Suzie was
murdered, Gloria was happy. She even said, 'Good riddance.'"

"You and Gloria aren't friends now?
Why is that?" Finelli asked.

I shrugged. "Gloria got some idea in
her head about me wanting to engage Pierre's affections and become a model. It
doesn't make sense to me why that would bother her. Even before that, she
turned chilly toward me."

"Miss Castellano came in on her own
earlier this week." Detective Finelli held my gaze. "She told me who
she thought had the most motive to kill Suzie. Someone who was in love with
Williams. Someone jealous of Miss Wexford's relationship with Williams. Someone
who had threatened to kill the model."

Silence fell.

I whispered, "You can't believe that I
would take a human life."

While I sat stunned, Darlene shot to her
feet. "How dare you, Finelli? Bebe would never kill anyone, and you know
it! This just makes me think Gloria is the murderer, and she's trying to throw
the spotlight elsewhere. Did she come to you before Mr. Williams was
arrested?"

"Yes, she did. Sit down, Miss
Roland."

Darlene sat. "Has Gloria come back
since Mr. Williams was arrested to tell you he's not the killer, that Bebe did
it?"

"No, she hasn't," Finelli said.

"Exactly where was Gloria the night Suzie
was killed? Did you ask her?"

"She was out at a nightclub with a
friend."

Darlene laughed. "Now that's a great
alibi. Nobody in this case has a good alibi."

"Williams was at the scene of the
crime. He was intimately involved with the victim. The murder weapon was
something he bought for her."

"And you've got pressure on you from
the chief. It doesn't matter if you've got the killer, just that you made an
arrest." Darlene shot the detective a look of disdain. She rose and took
my elbow. "Come on, Bebe. We should have known we couldn't work with the
fuzz."