The Third Sin (10 page)

Sonya slung her bag on the desk, sat down, and unlocked her file drawer. Kirsten appeared in the doorway and asked, “Do you want coffee?”

Despite feeling sorry for what she must have been through that night, Sonya felt a spasm of anger. She had asked for fifteen minutes and been given two. It struck Sonya that Kirsten was as greedy as any of the Bruckheimers. Not just for money, but for attention, to satisfy an insatiable need for approval.

“Do you want coffee?” Kirsten repeated. Sonya realized that her voice was trembling.

Despite her determination not to mother the intern, Sonya felt swamped by a wave of sympathy. “I had some at home, but another cup would be great, thanks.”

Encouraged by Sonya's reply, Kirsten stepped completely into the office. “How about a doughnut? There are a lot left from the early morning show.”

Sonya shook her head. “Just coffee.”

“Are you sure? They're awesome. I ate three while I waited for you,” she said cheerfully.

“Coffee's fine,” Sonya said.

Once Kirsten left, Sonya tried to start preparing a log sheet for Wade's interview, but found herself worrying about the intern. Kirsten's usual favored snack was high-protein spirulina balls; she had to be feeling frantic to have eaten so many doughnuts.

Sonya had noticed Kirsten's pale face and the dark circles under her eyes; probably signs of a sleepless night. She had dressed in keeping with the somber mood of a death in the family. Her shirt dress, which was long and shapeless and so loose it probably belonged to her mother, was dark green. With it she wore black leggings and flat shoes. The only bright spot in her look were her large gold hoop earrings.

Sonya switched on her computer monitor and scrolled through the overnight reports. The wire services knew less about Wade's death than she did, except for one that speculated that an overdose of drugs was a possible cause of death. Wade, who was known to have taken social drugs, had possibly killed the bird and himself.

It was the curious death of the bird that had Sonya convinced Wade's death was murder. It was too much of a coincidence to believe that both had died of natural causes on the same night. She knew that Wade loved his bird; he would never have killed Cacao.

Sonya found the tape Perry had neatly labeled
#
O
NE
and put it in the machine. A quick fast-forward showed the camera following Wade as he showed Sonya around the living room. At that point in the interview, Wade had been friendly enough, and certainly not depressed. He had said he was selling the diamond so he could enjoy good times with his wife. Things were going his way. Why would he kill himself?

Sonya hit pause as Kirsten returned with the coffee and sat on the opposite side of the desk. Kirsten peered at the image on the monitor. “Uncle Wade,” she said softly. “I can't believe that was only yesterday. I miss him already. He understood me.” Her eyes began to tear and Sonya offered her a tissue.

They sat in silence for a moment while Kirsten wiped away her tears. Her reaction seemed real enough. Maybe I've been unfair, thought Sonya.

“My mother said I must apologize for calling you that early. I was so shocked, I didn't think about the time. I knew you would understand and that you'd want to know because of the story.” Sonya wasn't surprised that Kirsten didn't mention that she'd also called Donna.

“Uncle Wade has been part of my life forever,” Kirsten continued. “I just wish they'd have let me see him. That would have made it seem more real. This way, I feel like he just disappeared. Even after his body had been taken away, the police wouldn't let me go into the bedroom or see Cacao's cage. I couldn't say good-bye to them.”

As she spoke, Kirsten tugged at one ear. She whined, “It's hurting,” as she yanked off the earring and pulled on her earlobe in what Sonya recognized as an attempt to ease the pain. Sonya looked closely. She'd never seen Kirsten wear those earrings before. The gold circles were studded with small diamonds and rubies. She wondered who the jewelry belonged to—perhaps her mother or Bella. Surely not even Kirsten would have the nerve to raid Irina's jewelry box.

“Pretty, aren't they,” Kirsten said, holding up the earring. “Usually not my thing, but I couldn't resist borrowing them for today. They're like an homage to Uncle Wade. He loved beautiful things.”

“Borrowed? Who lent them to you?”

“Uncle Wade always said that they would be mine when he died,” she said defensively. “They belonged to his mother. He let Bella wear them, but he promised them to me. She won't mind that I took them.”

The intern shifted uneasily in her seat.

“You can't imagine how furious Mom is with me. She almost lost it when I told her I'd called Donna to tell her Wade died.”

Sonya's throat tightened and she leaned forward, ready for a confrontation. But Kirsten was oblivious. “Mom said Wade's death was a family matter and I was not to talk about it to anyone, not even to a family friend like Donna. How am I supposed to avoid it when I'm working for her, and she's my godmother?”

Sonya responded through clenched teeth. “Easy! If you have anything to say, you are to tell me. I'm doing the story. Do you understand?”

Kirsten picked up the earring and twisted it in her fingers. For a moment Sonya thought she would bend the fine gold circle out of shape, but she gave her earlobe another pull before putting the earring back on.

“I just don't understand my mother,” she continued. “One day she is crazy happy about my doing the internship with Donna and the next she says not to talk to her. When I said I hoped Donna would still do the story, she said not to make trouble. Mom and Donna are supposed to be great friends, but there's something going on between them. I don't know what it is. Do you?” Kirsten looked at Sonya through her eyelashes, inviting confidences Sonya had no intention of giving her.

“If I were you, Kirsten, I'd follow your mother's advice. Don't get mixed up in it.”

“My mother has no respect for me. I intend to make a career in this business, and I can't even get my mother to give me moral support. Now that Wade is gone, I only have my father on my side and Mother doesn't like him.”

She dabbed her eyes again, but this time Sonya was sure that there were no tears.

“She blames me for everything,” Kirsten went on. “Sometimes I think she hates me. She certainly doesn't love me as mothers ought to love their daughters.”

Sonya remembered something Sabrina had once said: “Who really understands anybody's secrets? Or what another person really wants.”

Sonya felt sympathy for Kirsten—and for Blair—both unfulfilled and needing approval. That's what Kirsten really wants from Donna … and from me, she thought.

“Let's get some work done before the morning meeting,” she said, and was pleased to see Kirsten straighten up and reach for her notebook, ready to start. Sonya decided to say what was on her mind. “Before we begin, I want to get something straight. This is my story, not yours. If you have anything for it, you come to me, not Donna, not Perry, not Sabrina. Understand?”

Sonya assumed that Kirsten was rarely spoken to so plainly, that in her family, everyone played secret games. She could see by the intern's expression that she was unhappy with what had been said. Sonya crossed her arms and waited until Kirsten spoke.

“I understand, Sonya.”

Sonya had no illusions that this would permanently change things between them, but it cleared the air for the moment. Given that Donna was committed to keeping Kirsten as an intern, Sonya would have to continue to find ways to make their relationship work. But she realized that she had no reason to feel threatened by or jealous of this needy, determined younger woman.

“I'll call and see if Donna is in. She wanted to see me right away.”

Her secretary said that Donna had changed her mind and that she would see Sonya at the morning meeting. She had not offered any explanation.

“We have a couple of minutes before the meeting, so tell me why you think Wade was murdered. You seem to have convinced Donna.”

“I got the idea from Giorgio. When I called my father, he said that he had been afraid that someone might try to kill Wade and that he had warned my uncle to straighten out some family matters. He was very upset; he told me he was sorry he wasn't more insistent with Wade. Giorgio would have done anything to protect Wade.”

“I'd like to interview your father. Can you arrange it for me?”

Kirsten frowned. “I'll try,” was her terse answer.

“Let's go to the meeting. We'll pick up on this later.”

Sonya and Kirsten joined the rest of the staff in the conference room. Sonya enjoyed the customary exchanges of morning greetings and minor jockeying for seats. As usual, Donna arrived on time, smiling as she took her place at the head of the table. She seemed in good form, apparently completely recovered from whatever had happened with Blair.

Since the executive producer was away, Sonya led the meeting. Despite being distracted, she was able to muster her usual discipline and focus on each story as the staff discussed it, but she was anxious to hear what Donna had to say about the Braganza piece. Would Donna give the go-ahead even without autopsy results?

Of course the diamond story was last on the agenda. Donna opened the conversation by saying, “I might run a short piece on Wade Bruckheimer on our Tuesday show. We have your interview, Sonya, and I assume it has some good sound bites. Do you know if the diamond will still be sold?”

Before Sonya could speak, Kirsten piped up from her seat at the end of the table. “I think it will—” At Donna's gesture of dismissal, the intern fell silent, looking startled.

Sonya said, “We don't know anything yet about the diamond. I'll try to confirm the sale today.”

Donna nodded and continued, “All right, let's keep going on it, but we'll wait for the autopsy results before we make a final decision. Sonya, have you any idea when we'll get that?”

“It's getting media attention, so it could be pushed to the top of the list. I'll look into it.”

“And the bird?” Donna flipped through Sonya's report. “It died at the same time as Wade. It will be autopsied too?”

“I believe so,” Sonya said, nodding.

“I saw it once when I was visiting Blair. It was beautiful.”

“Wade was crazy about Cacao. It's more than suspicious that they died at the same time, don't you think?”

Sonya was a little surprised when Donna replied, “Yes, I do.” Her boss went on, “But let's stay away from that for now. Let me know when you get the autopsy results. That is, if you get them to me before Kirsten does.” Donna laughed, as did much of the rest of the staff. It wasn't like Donna to make those kinds of bullying “jokes.” Sonya decided Donna must be feeling the strain of having a murder strike so close, in the family of an old friend. She decided to ignore the remark and just do her job.

 

Chapter
13

F
RIDAY, 8:15 A.M.

Blair's kitchen

Harold Bruckheimer looked up from reading
The New York Times
and held out his coffee cup for a refill as Blair crossed the kitchen. “It tastes stronger than your usual brew. Did you use your new do-it-all coffee machine? The one Wade gave you?”

Blair stifled her groan of annoyance. Just yesterday Harold had helped her repack the machine to return it to the store. He'd agreed with her that any machine that needed such a thick operating manual was a waste of time and money. It was typical of him to forget all about it. He had a brilliant mind for engineering but that was about all. Even so, sometimes she wondered if it were an act, if he used his apparent confusion as a way to avoid any unpleasant interactions.

She knew better than to try to argue. If she criticized him, he would clam up and not speak to her for hours. It was his habit whenever she tried to discuss a problem.

The phone on the table rang. As usual, she moved to pick it up, but to her surprise, Harold threw down his paper to grab the handset. “For me,” he said, putting his hand over the speaker. “It's the attorney returning my call.”

Blair reached for the last piece of french toast on the hot plate. She bit into it, comforted by its warm sweetness. The dish was one of Harold's favorites and she'd made it to give him energy after a sleepless night.

Disappointingly, Harold was not in the mood to eat, while Blair wound up eating all but two pieces. That was another difference between them. She ate like a fiend when she was stressed, while his appetite disappeared completely. That was why he was slim and she had to watch her weight.

He ignored her now, turning his attention to the phone. “Thank you for calling back so quickly.” Blair swallowed, listening to her husband's side of the conversation.

“Yes, it was an enormous shock. Wade was happy with Bella, happier than I had ever seen him. Of course she's devastated. She was distraught when she came to wake us.”

He listened for a moment and then went on. “The police came immediately. The detective in charge said he expects the autopsies will be done today and we'll know the cause of death. I'll call you as soon as I hear.” He shook his head. “No, we don't know when he died exactly; just the time when Bella found him.”

Blair prompted him from across the table, “Tell him it was about two o'clock.”

Harold glared at her for a moment while saying, “The autopsy report will reveal all those details. But I need to see you as soon as possible about Wade's will.”

Blair frantically signaled to him that she had something to say.

“Just a moment.” Harold put his hand over the mouthpiece. “What is it, Blair?”

“Tell him that we want to get probate started immediately. I'm worried that things will start disappearing around here. Both Bella and Jorge have itchy fingers.”