Passion, Betrayal and Killer Highlights (23 page)

“Porsha.”

I pressed my forehead against the wall. “Porsha, will you be having breakfast with us, too?”

“Bianca’s not coming.”

Of course she wasn’t. That would have made everything too easy. I jabbed my finger against the button to allow Porsha admittance into the building, while Leah wrinkled her brow in confusion. She was undoubtedly weighing her disappointment over not being able to show Bianca up with her gentile domesticity against the thrill of playing socialite with someone named Porsha.

Porsha managed not to make any noise as she climbed the stairs, despite the three-inch Manolo Blahniks she was wearing. She walked to my door but didn’t step inside.

“I want you to know that I have informed the police of my whereabouts.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “And why is that? Are you on probation?”

“They know I’m here, so if I disappear, they’ll know where to look.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Porsha. I don’t even want to see you. I only invited Bianca.”

“
We
invited Bianca.” Leah stepped forward and peeked over my shoulder. “I want her to know that I don’t hold any resentment toward her. What’s done is done and now we should all be focusing on our loss and our mutual love for
my
husband.”

Now it was really hard not to laugh. Porsha, on the other hand, just looked sick. Albeit sick in a kind of powerhouse, sexy way. She was wearing a white dart-seamed top, paired with a navy knee-length skirt that was a little too tight to be considered conservative. She narrowed her eyes as she focused on Leah.

“So, you’re the wife.”

I looked back to see Leah nod uncertainly. “I’m sorry, but you are…”

“I’m Porsha Whitman, Bianca’s sister and lawyer.”

Leah’s expression hardened and she took a step back. “Well, I suppose if I was going to extend my hospitality to your sister, I can certainly extend it to you.” I could tell she was trying to sound polite, but her words sounded stilted and cold. “Would you like to come in for some croissants and Perrier?”

“Did you poison it?”

I shook my head. “Nobody poisons Perrier. Only the less expensive brands like Calistoga.”

Porsha’s chin jutted out but despite her obvious misgivings she stepped into my apartment. “What do you really want with my sister?”

“We wanted to feed her,” I said, pulling out a chair at the dining table. “She’s too thin.”

“Apparently Bob didn’t think so,” Porsha remarked venomously.

Leah took in a sharp breath, and I bit into my lip. I really hated this woman.

“My husband,” Leah said slowly, “clearly found your sister to be…amusing. I’m so disappointed that she won’t be joining us. I do hope she didn’t stay away because she felt ashamed or…cheap.”

It was comebacks like that that made me proud to claim Leah as my sister.

“Bianca stayed away because I told her to,” Porsha said. “If you have a message for her, you can give it to me.”

“We wanted to invite her to Bob’s memorial service,” I said.

Porsha cocked her head to the side. “And why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s the polite thing to do.” I smiled sweetly. “Didn’t they teach you anything in finishing school?”

“Are you trying to prove to the police that you’re not bitter?”

Damn it. Not only was she a bitch, but she was a smart bitch. Those were the worst kind. “We’re not trying to prove anything to anyone,” I lied. “We’re honestly trying to do the right thing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

I sighed and looked to Leah for help. She had more experience dealing with the Porshas of the world than I did.

Leah pulled out a chair. “I’m sorry you doubt us. Why don’t we all talk about it over breakfast? I made a lovely fruit salad, so if you’re worried about the calories in the croissants, there’s an alternative.” She looked pointedly at Porsha’s skintight skirt.

Porsha sat down and crossed her arms in front of her. “I’ll just have the Perrier.”

Of all the things she could have done, refusing food that my sister had prepared specifically for her was the one thing most likely to set Leah off. I saw Leah’s nostrils flare and quickly stood up and gave her a gentle shove toward the kitchen. “I’ll have some fruit and a croissant,” I called after Leah, as she rigidly walked into the kitchen to retrieve our food. I sat down again and smiled. “You know, I think I saw Bianca at Redwood last night.”

“What’s Redwood?” Porsha asked, her eyes following Leah’s movements.

“A bar downtown. I’m sure it was her. She was wearing this cute little pink number—”

“Bianca was home all night.”

“Are you sure? I could have sworn it was her.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Oh.” I leaned back in my chair and smiled as Leah returned to the table with our food and drinks. “In that case, did the two of you catch
Saturday Night Live?
I meant to tape it but—”

“I doubt Bianca watches anything that inane.”

“You doubt it? Didn’t you notice if she was watching television?”

“I was at the movies. However, I know my sister and she’s not the type to watch late-night TV.”

It took a huge effort to keep myself from breaking out into a grin. “So Bianca spent the night by herself, not watching
Saturday Night Live.
” I made eye contact with Leah, who looked incredibly relieved. “How lonely. Maybe if she would allow us to get to know her, we could provide comfort to one another.”

“She has friends for that,” Porsha said.

I poured myself some of the cyanide-free sparkling water. “So what movie did you see?”

“Why are you so interested in where Bianca and I were last night?”

I shrugged dismissively. “I’m not. I was just trying to make conversation.”

“I have no interest in conversing with either of you.” Porsha stood up. “I came over to find out what you were up to and to tell you to stay the hell away from my family. If you don’t, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it.”

I smiled. “Are you threatening us? My, my, how…
violent
of you.”

“I’m not the murderer here.”

“If you say so.” I tore off the end of my croissant and popped it into my mouth.

“Porsha,” Leah said sweetly, “why does Bianca need a lawyer? I hope she’s not in any kind of trouble.”

“She needs someone to give her legal advice so she’s better equipped to keep psychotics like you at bay.”

“Are you a criminal defense attorney?” Leah asked, her voice dripping honey.

Porsha shifted her weight from one foot to the other and looked toward the door. “No, that’s not my area of expertise.” She walked briskly toward the front door. “Don’t call my sister again or I’ll get a restraining order.”

“Oh, give me a break,” I called after her. “You can’t get a restraining order just because we invited her to breakfast. I would think a lawyer would know that. What kind of law do you practice again?”

“That’s none of your business,” she said as she exited my apartment.

I jumped up and ran after her. “Oh, come on, give me a hint.” I leaned over the banister as Porsha started down the stairwell. “Civil? Personal injury?”

“Go to hell,” she shouted back, and then stopped as she realized that her path was being blocked by Anatoly.

“Anatoly!” I said warmly. “You’re just in time. Porsha was just about to tell us that she’s an ambulance chaser.”

“The hell I was!” Porsha craned her neck up to look at me. “I’ll have you know I practice family law!”

“You’re a divorce lawyer?” I laughed. “Well, that’s perfect. If Bob hadn’t died, you could have represented Leah.”

“What are you doing here, Porsha?” Anatoly asked in a voice that I found to be entirely too warm. “Has something happened?”

“These harpies tried to lure my sister here under the pretense of wanting to treat her to tea and crumpets!”

Anatoly’s eyes traveled up to me. “Tea and crumpets?”

“They were croissants!” Leah screamed from inside the apartment.

“I’m done here.” Porsha pushed past Anatoly and swiftly walked the rest of the way down the stairs.

Anatoly turned to watch her go before coming up. “It’s really amazing,” he said as he walked back inside with me. “I have never seen two women conduct themselves so poorly during a murder investigation.”

“There is nothing sinister about croissants,” Leah said, glaring at the food in front of her. “I can’t believe she had the nerve to leave without eating one.”

“Yes,” Anatoly said, “clearly that’s the important issue here.” He sat down in Porsha’s vacated chair and dumped some fruit salad on her empty plate. “I showed Taylor’s picture to a few employees at the Gatsby. She was definitely the woman who was seen there with Bob.”

“Bob would never have slept with Taylor,” Leah said.

“Maybe not, but he took her to the hotel, and that can only help us redirect the police’s attention away from you.” He pierced a strawberry with his fork. “It would be even more helpful if we could show that he was having additional affairs.”

“Anatoly,” I said in a warning voice.

“Did Sophie talk to you about that possibility?” Anatoly continued, ignoring me.

Leah looked up to meet my eyes. “She told me about your suspicions regarding Taylor, but that’s it.”

“She didn’t tell—”

Leah stood up abruptly. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” She threw her napkin down on the table and hurried down the hall to the guest room.

Anatoly turned to me. “What the hell is going on?”

“Well, it sounds to me like Taylor was shtooping my brother-in-law.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Let’s pretend it is.” I sat down next to him. “So what’s our next move?”

Anatoly shook his head in confusion. “Why are we avoiding the topic of Erika?”

I looked away and took a long drink.

Anatoly made a noise of frustration. “In that case, I think we should visit Taylor Blake and talk to her about the true nature of her relationship with Bob.”

Spectacular. With my luck she’d be hanging from her showerhead. “Why don’t we call first?”

Anatoly examined me carefully. “Are you trying to avoid a face-to-face confrontation?”

“It seems prudent.”

“Now I know something’s wrong.”

“You know, maybe we
should
talk to Erika,” I said slowly. “Why don’t we pop in on her at work?”

“I thought that was precisely what you didn’t want to do.”

“I just don’t want to spread rumors about something that may never have happened.” I tore off another piece of croissant. “But if we just ask her directly while she’s at work, then I suppose it won’t do any harm.”

Anatoly was watching me carefully. “It’s not the kind of information most women would want to discuss at their place of business. Erika might be more forthcoming if we catch her at home.”

The croissant caught in my throat and I had to make a grab for my drink to keep from choking. “You know, I’m not even sure where she lives. Besides, we might be able to find someone at Chalet who has information about Taylor. We could knock out two birds with one stone.”

“Kill,” he said. “You
kill
two birds with the stone.”

“I’d really rather wound them.”

Anatoly stared at me for what felt like an hour. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll go to Chalet.”

We both stood up, but Anatoly grabbed my arm before I could go to tell Leah that we were leaving. “Sophie, I know we haven’t always been honest with each other, but if you’re in some kind of trouble you need to tell me. If I can, I’ll help you.”

“And if you can’t?”

“I’ll help you anyway.”

I broke into my first real smile of the day. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a lamb in wolf’s clothing?”

Anatoly grunted and released me. “I give up. Get your coat—we have an interview to get to.”

CHAPTER 11

“You know how some people say that with every step forward they’re forced to take five steps back?” he asked. “Well every time I try to move forward I inevitably step right off a cliff.”

—
Words To Die By

I
t took us a while to find out that Erika had been reassigned to James Sawyer’s office and a lot less time to find out she hadn’t shown up or called in. I made an effort to put on my best surprised face as James relayed the news.

“Has she done this before?” Anatoly asked, leaning against the desk that Erika had just begun to make her own.

“No, the reason I offered her the job as my assistant was that I knew I could count on her,” James said. “I’m actually very worried.”

“Has anyone called her?” I asked innocently.

“I’ve called several times but there’s no answer. I’m at a loss as to what to do next.”

Anatoly absently jotted something down on a Post-it on Erika’s desk before stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans. “If you give us her address, we’d be happy to stop by her house and check on her.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think we have the time.” I kept my eyes glued on James so that I could better avoid Anatoly’s questioning stare. “We have a pretty full day ahead of us. But as long as we’re here, perhaps we could ask you about Bob’s relationship with Taylor Blake.”

“What exactly would you like to know?” James asked cautiously.

Anatoly shrugged, his eyes shifting from me back to the items decorating Erika’s desk. “Were they just coworkers, or did they share a friendship?”

“We’re all friends here at Chalet. We strive to maintain a warm, family atmosphere.”

I resisted the temptation to puke and instead studied James’s stance. He had shifted his weight back onto his heels and his arms were now crossed over his chest. He wasn’t making eye contact with me or Anatoly.

“James,” I said, in a purposely familiar tone, “Taylor and Bob were seen at Hotel Gatsby together on a few occasions. Why were they there?”

James’s shoulders sagged. “Why don’t you step into my office.”

We followed him inside the double doors, which he quickly closed behind us. He gestured for Anatoly and me to use the two available leather upholstered chairs and sat down behind his desk. “I didn’t want this to become public knowledge. It seems disrespectful of Bob’s memory and it could only harm Taylor’s flawless reputation as a businesswoman.”