The Third Sin (21 page)

“Kirsten,” Sonya said firmly, “you have to stop thinking about it and give yourself time to recover. You've had surgery, gotten drugs—you have to let your body and mind rest.”

The intern began to cry. “I'm so glad you're here,” she said in a tight voice. “I've been worrying about you. I was frightened the gunman would go after you again.”

Sonya leaned forward and ran her hand over the red curls that looked so much like her own. “Shush, calm down, Kirsten. I'm perfectly all right. Now, for once in your life, do what you are told. Rest.”

As she spoke, she saw Kirsten reach for a tissue and determinedly wipe her eyes. “I feel okay, Sonya, really I do. My shoulder doesn't hurt much, and the nurse said that I'm young and I'll recover fast.” She gave a little giggle. “So there. You won't get rid of me that easily.”

Sonya smiled back.

“If I hadn't taken your coat it never would have happened. But now your wonderful plaid coat has a big hole in it and my blood all over it. It was a beautiful coat. So sixties.”

Kirsten had been admiring that coat for weeks, but it was probably better that she never know that Sonya had been on the point of giving it to her. Sonya said, “Well, it's bad luck about the coat, sixties or not. Don't worry about it. If I decide to keep it, I know a great dry cleaner who can remove the blood and repair the hole. No one will ever know what happened.”

“But it will never be the same to you. It will always remind you of how stupid I was.”

Sonya squeezed her hand gently, trying to comfort the younger woman.

Kirsten seemed to gather herself and said, “What's happening to the story? I want to keep working on it.”

“Forget it … the story will be fine.” Kirsten's face crumpled and Sonya quickly backtracked a bit, not wanting to upset her. “There'll be other stories. You'll have plenty of work to keep you busy.

“Everyone thinks you've been very brave. People are saying you've got the courage and brains of your famous grandfather and you'll be around the network for a long time.”

Kirsten shook her head violently, then winced in pain. “How can I forget the story when it involves my family? Nothing will be fine until the police find Wade's killer. They've got to find out who gave Wade the sleeping pills and who tried to shoot you.” Kirsten's voice was rising. Sonya began to fear that the nurse would come to scold her about upsetting the patient and insist she leave.

“Kirsten, if you don't calm down I'll have to go.” Sonya waited a moment while Kirsten calmed herself, then continued. “You texted me about a problem you didn't want your mother to know about. What is it?”

“I think my mother murdered Wade,” Kirsten said in a rush. “She's always hated him. She called him a wastrel, said he'd taken advantage of everyone in the family, particularly Harold. She said we would all be better off if he were dead.”

Sonya was taken aback. Was Kirsten out of her mind because of the drugs she'd been given or did she mean what she said? It was hard to believe that the woman Sonya had just interviewed was capable of murder.

“Do you really believe your mother killed Wade? I think it's highly unlikely, from what I know of her. She strikes me as an intelligent, well-balanced woman.”

Kirsten looked at her closely. “Have you interviewed her?”

“Yes, this morning,” Sonya said with a nod.

“I bet she turned on the charm for you. That's not what she's really like. She always says she's so concerned about me, but the truth is that she spends much more time looking after Harold. She's crazy about him and would do anything to protect him.

“Harold never had much money while Wade got a lot and spent it all, living the high life. Plus, my mother hated Wade popping in and out of the kitchen as if he owned it. She said that having him so close was the worst part of living in the apartment.”

This was the first time Sonya had heard Kirsten say such negative things about her mother. She doubted Blair was the monster Kirsten made her out to be, but the younger woman's vitriol made her wonder how much of what she'd seen that morning had been an act. She didn't know Blair well enough to make a true judgment of her yet.

Keith had said that the police had found a spoon under the bed and believed that the sleeping pills had been mixed into Wade's ice cream. Blair was the member of the family in the best position to have done that. She had the know-how and plenty of opportunity. But it seemed to Sonya that Blair was too smart to use a method that would cause her to be the most obvious suspect.

“I must say your mother seemed happy with her family, her cooking, and her television appearances. I think she's more interested in opening a restaurant than in committing murder.”

“Yes, we all know about the restaurant,” Kirsten said bitterly. “That's the only thing she talks about—what it will look like, how special the menu will be; she's even designed the staff's uniforms.

“She's made me miserable all my life because I'm not interested in recipes. When I was a kid, she forced me to help her in the kitchen even though she knew I didn't want to. Now she tries to make me eat. She cooks fattening things and insists I put them in my mouth. She says her food is nourishing and just what I need.” She began to cry again.

“It's awful! I hate to go into the kitchen or be anywhere near her. I feel like I have to sneak around to get a few morsels of what I can stand to eat.

“Harold's a beast. He hates me because he and Mom couldn't have children. And because Wade was my friend.” The power of her emotions distorted Kirsten's face.

Sonya tried to soothe her, knowing that her awkward attempt would likely fail. She wanted to feel sympathy for the intern, but still felt mostly annoyance at her histrionics.

“Kirsten, come on. Your mother loves you. She wants only the best for you.” Kirsten glared at her and Sonya sighed.

“I want you to really investigate Wade's murder. Find out if my mother's guilty. I'll go crazy lying here thinking that she killed Wade and then tried to kill you. Promise me you'll do it.”

Sonya picked up her bag and pushed the chair away from the bed. “I promise I'll do what I can. Now I'm leaving you to rest. I mean it—try to put all of this out of your mind.”

She bent and kissed Kirsten on the cheek, then left. Of course she would investigate the murder—Kirsten hadn't had to ask. The whole case was fascinating. Anyone in the family might be the killer.

 

Chapter
27

S
ATURDAY, 2:15 P.M.

Sonya's office

Sonya looked at the pile of unlogged tapes on her desk and shuddered. If only Kirsten was there; she liked logging tapes and was fast at it. Deciding to ignore the tapes for now, Sonya switched on the computer, created a new file, and typed in the names of the members of Wade Bruckheimer's family.

One of them had to be the murderer, but it was almost thirty-six hours since the murder, and she had no clues as to which one.

Sonya started thinking about the attack on Kirsten. The shot was meant to kill. But it was meant for her, not Kirsten. Why? What did the attacker think she knew? She began to type, setting down her thoughts.

It had to revolve around the diamond. Apart from Kirsten, Wade had been the only family member who'd wanted the stone sold. It was the fastest way for him to get his hands on a lot of money. But though he would have spent that money on Bella, she didn't want him to sell the stone. Not at auction in the U.S., anyway.

By Kirsten's account, Bella came from a family of thugs. Her beauty was money in the bank for them. She had set her cap for Wade, thinking he was rich, and had manipulated him until he proposed. Then, when the money began to run out, reality had set in.

If Bella could get Wade to turn the diamond over to her, her family would have no trouble selling it. They had plenty of connections in Brazil, where jewelry was an important industry. They'd probably get more for the stone through a privately arranged sale than Wade would achieve at auction. They'd also get the power that accompanied being in control of such a magnificent gem.

According to Kirsten, Bella's brother Rico managed Bella's life. She regularly turned to him for advice and did what he told her to. Kirsten had told Sonya that Rico had promised to come to New York after Wade's death, but that Bella now insisted that he had not turned up.

Sonya wondered if he had secretly arrived and was watching from the sidelines. Or if he'd sent a hit man instead. Maybe he had orchestrated both Wade's murder and Bella's reactions.

During their interview, Bella had mentioned Rico several times, as if trying to make it clear that he had had nothing to do with her since Wade's murder. That was strange to Sonya, given that she had been told that Bella rarely made a move without Rico's consent. And if he hadn't phoned her, why hadn't she called him? If Bella was as desperately lonely and afraid as she claimed, it would be natural to turn to her own family.

According to Bella, Rico had told her to get a lawyer. In Sonya's opinion, that was a natural move for a woman in Bella's position. A lawyer would certainly be necessary if the Bruckheimers got tough, which they were likely to do. Yet—again, according to Bella—Rico had not followed up on this advice. Bella had no legal representation. Sonya decided that Bella's story about her brother rang false.

When she had interviewed Bella, Sonya had thought she'd played the role of grieving widow to the hilt, except for the moment when she rushed into Kirsten's arms. The embrace appeared unnatural, but Sonya had put the blame on Kirsten. Now she wondered if she had been mistaken, if Bella was the one who was forcing the emotion, perhaps at Rico's instruction.

If Bella had murdered Wade, it seemed likely that her family was behind it.

Then there was the attempted murder to consider. If she was the intended victim, not Kirsten, why would Rico have targeted her? Even if he was upset about Bella's interview, that was no reason to murder the show's producer.

Uncle Jorge was next on Sonya's list. He could have killed Wade to stop the auction, but would he have hired someone to kill Sonya? She wondered if he even knew who she was.

Her cell phone rang. It was Keith, asking where she was. She heard the anger in his voice when she admitted she was at the office. “Is anybody else there?” he asked.

“It's Saturday lunchtime, you can't expect the place to be crowded.”

“Are you alone?” She hesitated and he jumped into the silence. “Yes, you are, I can tell by the way you are avoiding giving me a direct answer.” She heard him bang his fist on his desk in frustration. “That hit man got into the building once. He can get in again and find you. We still don't know who he is, but we're pretty sure that he's probably planning to take a second shot at you. You promised to be careful. I told you to stay with people all the time.”

Sonya tried to calm him. “I am being careful. I'm not a fool. The receptionist is here, and a couple of editors are around.” She heard him grunt in disapproval and added, sweetly, “I'm hungry. Do you have time for a quick bite? You can protect me while I eat.”

She expected him to be angry when they met at his favorite deli at Sixty-Third and Madison, but his mood had changed. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him.

“I don't know what I'd do if I lost you.” He nuzzled her hair as they walked to an empty booth. “You mean a lot more to me than you realize.”

She didn't speak until the waiter came and took their orders: cheese, lettuce, and tomato on a roll for her and pastrami on rye for him. Keith insisted that deli food was the best of New York. He knew everyone in the city. In fact the first meal they had shared had been takeout deli sandwiches on a bench in Central Park.

“What's new?” she asked, anxious not to get into the security problem again.

“Not much. It's too early to come to conclusions. We have to wait for more tests to come in. You know that.”

He always gave her noncommittal, nonspecific answers. Keith was a good cop who divulged as little as possible, even to her. It was irritating, but she told herself she did the same when her research dug up information she knew he would love to have. He'd been drilled not to trust the media, and she was a journalist. And for her part, she couldn't be seen as someone who leaked information to the police—it would cost her many interviews.

“Well, Kirsten's made a quick recovery,” she said. “I saw her earlier today.”

“Did she tell you much?”

Sonya shook her head. “Assuming that Kirsten had already been questioned by the police, she answered truthfully. The barest details. She saw nothing; just heard a voice and ran toward it. She's annoyed with herself because she says she is a journalist, and ought to remember more.” Sonya gave a quick laugh.

Keith nodded. “Yeah, that's what she told us. But I thought she was close to recalling something else. Maybe when her concussion improves it'll come back to her.”

The server slapped down their sandwiches. Sonya watched Keith bite into his pastrami on rye and waited until he swallowed.

“Did you get much from the attorney?” she asked. “For instance, did he say how the brothers, Wade and Harold, got on?”

“Apparently very well, when you think of the differences in their personalities and ages. Wade was social; a spendthrift whose main goal was to enjoy life. Harold is a solid engineer, highly respected. As far as we can tell from talking to their friends, Wade was proud of Harold. When they were both younger, they bonded during the holidays they spent together with the Dias family in Brazil. It looks like Harold's mom, Irina, put a stop to the joint vacations when she thought the boys were getting too close. The gossip is that Irina's a control freak who didn't want her only child straying too far.”