Like No One Else (15 page)

Had Richard Houghton learned about her past? Tommie wondered uneasily. Did he know about the scandal that had derailed her professional dancing career?

If so, what did he intend to do about it?

 

Paulo began his day at the morgue going over Maribel Cruz's autopsy results with the Harris County deputy chief medical examiner. Dr. Wilhelm Garrett was in his late fifties with thinning brown hair, a gray beard, and a ruddy, congenial face that belied his brusque, humorless temperament. He was a busy man who lacked the patience for dealing with the inquisitive detectives who attended the autopsies. The only people Garrett preferred to deal with were the ones who came to him on steel gurneys, the ones who couldn't talk back or ask questions.

Like Maribel Cruz.

Working a tasteless wad of Nicorette gum around his mouth, Paulo surveyed the body that had been pulled from a massive stainless steel refrigerator bearing other corpses. Dark brown eyes stared dully from slitted, bluish lids. Her neck was laid wide open to her spine, the strap muscles severed. Spaced narrowly apart over her left chest and breast were eleven stab wounds that had been inflicted in rapid succession, one right after the other, with a force so brutal that there were hilt marks in her flesh. She'd incurred multiple cuts to her forearms and hands while trying to ward off the slashing motions of a wide, sharp blade.

Paulo listened impassively as Dr. Garrett recited the other injuries Maribel had sustained, injuries not visible to the naked eye. Her left lung had been punctured seven times. Her carotid arteries were almost transected. Her aortic arch, pulmonary artery, heart, and pericardial sac were penetrated.

In short she'd suffered a very violent, painful death.

“No fibers or skin cells were embedded beneath her fingernails,” Garrett explained, his voice a flat monotone in the cold, sterile room reeking of antiseptic solution and formaldehyde. “No presence of seminal fluid. However, there
was
vaginal penetration.”

“She was raped?”

Garrett shook his head. “Based on my examination, I would say the intercourse was consensual.”

“You're telling me the victim had sex on the morning she was killed?” Paulo asked, thinking of the mystery visitor in the unidentified black car.

“That's right. There were traces of latex and a spermicidal lubricant inside her vagina, so it's safe to assume her partner used a condom.” Garrett frowned. “Not that the condom would have done her any good.”

Paulo looked sharply at the doctor. “What do you mean? Why wouldn't it have done her any good?”

Garrett met his gaze levelly. “Because she was already pregnant.”

 

When Kathleen Phillips found Paulo standing on her doorstep thirty minutes later, not only did she look surprised. She looked petrified.

“Detective Sanchez. W-what are you doing here?”

“You weren't at the office,” Paulo said calmly.

“I know. I didn't feel up to going in this morning. Ted told me to take the day off.” She swallowed, gathering the edges of her silk robe together as she eyed Paulo warily. “Is something wrong?”

“I need to talk to you. Mind if I come in?”

Kathleen hesitated, looking like she minded very much. But after another moment she stepped aside to let him enter.

Paulo swept a cursory glance around the tiny studio apartment, which was located in the heart of downtown, not five minutes from the law firm. He took in the contemporary furnishings and African art collection before returning his attention to his hostess. She had removed the silk scarf from her head and was self-consciously finger-combing her dark hair, trying to make herself presentable. Nothing could be done for the small bags under her eyes.

“Would you like some coffee?” she offered politely.

“No, thanks.”

Once they were seated in the living room, Paulo said bluntly, “You've been holding out on me, Miss Phillips.”

She didn't meet his gaze. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I think you do. And I think you know why I'm here.”

Kathleen said nothing.

Undeterred, Paulo said, “You lied when you told me Maribel wasn't seeing anyone. You knew she was, but you didn't want to tell me because you're trying to protect the other person. Why?”

Dark, haunted eyes lifted to his. “Because I promised I wouldn't tell, and I can't go back on my word.”

“Even if the person you're protecting is a cold-blooded killer?”

Kathleen flinched as if he'd struck her. “You don't know that,” she said faintly. “You don't know that he killed her.”

“And you don't know that he
didn't
.” Paulo leaned forward intently. “I just came from the morgue. Do you know what I found out? I found out that Maribel was pregnant. So it's highly possible that whoever you're covering for killed not only your friend, but her unborn child as well. Are you telling me you're okay with that?”

Kathleen was staring at him with a stricken expression. “Maribel was…pregnant?”

“Yes.” Paulo paused, searching her face. “You didn't know?”

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “She didn't tell me. I had no idea.”

“She may have just found out herself,” Paulo said grimly. “The ME says she was only five weeks pregnant.”

“Oh God.” Kathleen squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as if to block out the devastating news. “Poor Maribel,” she whispered tearfully. “She must have been so scared and confused. I should have been there for her. I should have helped her.”

“You still can,” Paulo said quietly. “All you have to do is tell me who Maribel was sleeping with.”

Kathleen inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. Slowly her eyes opened and settled on Paulo's face. “It was Ted. She was having an affair with Ted.”

“How long?”

“Since February.” She shook her head ruefully. “And it's all my fault.”

Paulo frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It started the night of the ballet.”

“Their affair?”

Kathleen nodded stiffly. “Ted knew how much Maribel loved ballet, so when he found out that the Blane Bailey Dance Company was coming to Houston, he bought her tickets to the show for her birthday. I was supposed to go with her that night, but I had to cancel because of a family emergency. Maribel didn't want to go alone, so Ted offered to take her. He said his wife was out of town on a business trip, so he'd just be going home to an empty house. Maribel wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of being seen in public with her boss, but she felt a little sorry for Ted, and since he'd been nice enough to buy the tickets, she figured what the hell?

“The next morning at work when I asked her how everything went, all she said was that she'd enjoyed the ballet and met one of her favorite dancers. When I asked her if she'd felt awkward being there with Ted, she just laughed it off, wouldn't really give me a straight answer. I should have known then that something was up, but I didn't give it too much thought after that.”

“When did you find out about the affair?” Paulo asked.

“About a month later. I'd gone back to the office one night to get a file that I'd forgotten to take home. As I neared my cubicle, I heard voices coming from Ted's office. I figured since Ted was there burning the midnight oil, I could ask him a few questions about a report I was working on. I was about to knock on the closed door when I realized that he was in there with Maribel.” Kathleen swallowed, nervously massaging her slender throat. “She and Ted were, ah, making plans for the weekend. His wife was going out of town again, this time to visit her sister. Ted was telling Maribel how they were going to soak in the Jacuzzi together, sip champagne by the fire, and, well, you get the gist of it.”

Paulo smiled grimly. “Did you confront them?”

“God, no. I was so shocked and disgusted, I wouldn't have known what to say to them. I got my file and left before they came out of the office and saw me. But I couldn't hold my tongue for very long,” she admitted, grimacing. “The next day over lunch, I told Maribel what I'd overheard and asked her what the hell was going on between her and Ted. She told me everything, then swore me to secrecy. She was more worried about Ted getting fired than losing her good reputation at the firm. And she said that Ted could pull some strings for me, get me a promotion.”

“So she bought your silence,” Paulo said flatly.

“No,” Kathleen fired back, bristling. “I told her I didn't want any damned favors from Ted, I was fully capable of moving up in the company on my own merit. I told her she was wrong for sleeping with a married man, and she probably wasn't the first secretary Ted had screwed around with.”

“Ouch,” Paulo murmured.

Kathleen frowned. “I was very upset. We both were, to the point where we stopped speaking to each other for three whole weeks. I considered asking to be transferred to another division, but I didn't want to raise any red flags. And then Maribel came to me and apologized for the hurtful things she'd said during our argument. She told me she understood why I was so angry and disappointed in her, but she'd never meant to sleep with Ted that night. One minute they were baring their souls to each other, the next minute they were in bed together. Maribel fell in love with Ted, and she didn't know what to do about it.”

“Did she ever ask him to leave his wife?” Paulo asked.

Kathleen shook her head. “She wanted to, but she didn't think he would. And she told me she didn't want to be the home-wrecker who destroyed his marriage. Except she didn't use that word,” she added wryly. “She used the Spanish word she'd grown up hearing her mother and aunts use to describe women who screwed around with married men. I'm trying to remember what it was….”

“
Puta?
” Paulo offered helpfully.
“Tramposa? Rompehogares?”

Kathleen snapped her fingers. “That's the one!
Rompehogares.
” She smiled ruefully. “I'm sorry. I know I'm totally mangling the pronunciation.”

Paulo chuckled dryly. “That's okay. It's not a very nice word.”

“That's what Maribel said.” Kathleen's smile turned mournful. “God, I miss her. I still can't believe she's gone. And now I can't even look at Ted without—” She broke off abruptly, shaking her head.

“Without what?”

Kathleen dropped her gaze to her clasped hands in her lap. She said nothing.

“Do you think Ted could have killed Maribel?” Paulo probed.

“I don't know,” Kathleen mumbled miserably. “I don't want to believe he did, but I just don't know. Maribel didn't talk much about their relationship. She knew it was a touchy subject. But based on the things she did tell me, Ted really seemed to care about her. He enjoyed being with her.”

“Do you think his wife ever found out?”

Kathleen shook her head vigorously. “Maribel told me that if Abby had known about the affair, she would have confronted Ted immediately. She was just that kind of woman.”

“So you don't think it's possible that Abby Colston killed Maribel, or hired someone else to do it?”

Kathleen stared at him, aghast. “I—I don't know. God, I hope not. I've met her before, talked to her at different company functions. She certainly doesn't
seem
capable of murder. But I guess anything's possible. Maribel didn't seem capable of sleeping with another woman's husband, but she did.”

Paulo didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. He thanked Kathleen for her time and reminded her to call him if she thought of anything else.

As she walked him to the door, she said, “I guess in a weird way, Detective, we're both partially to blame for Maribel becoming involved with Ted.”

Paulo turned, frowning quizzically at her. “How's that?”

“Well, if I hadn't canceled on her that night, Ted wouldn't have gone to the ballet with her, so they wouldn't have slept together. And if
you'd
given her the time of day at the fund-raiser dinner three years ago, who knows? You two might have been happily married by now.”

Paulo could only stare at her.

Kathleen laughed softly. “I take it by the stunned look on your face that you didn't think I remembered you, and you obviously had no idea that Maribel was totally into you that night. So much so that she talked about you for an entire week after meeting you. She thought about asking your cousin Naomi to play matchmaker, but she didn't want to seem desperate, especially to her employer.”

Paulo remembered what Naomi had told him two days ago about Maribel.
She said you were a hunk, but you didn't seem particularly interested in her
.

His mouth curved in a small, self-deprecating smile. “Maribel was better off not getting involved with me. I make a lousy boyfriend, an even worse husband. If you don't believe me, just ask my ex-wife.”