The Third Sin (22 page)

“Interesting,” Sonya commented. “What did the attorney say about the diamond? What happens to it now?”

Keith continued to eat. He's hiding something and trying to figure out how much he can share, Sonya thought. She did her best to be patient and quiet while he finished half of his sandwich.

“The attorney didn't give us much, and you know I can't tell you everything he said. But the bottom line is that Douglas Bruckheimer left nearly everything to Irina—except the diamond. There's a provision in the will that says it has to stay in Esperanza's bloodline, so it went directly to Wade.

“Wade never objected to Irina wearing the stone or to her giving everyone the impression that the diamond belonged to her. At least not until he married Bella and ran so short of money that he decided to sell the gem. Now the Braganza's future depends on what's in Wade's will.” Keith smiled in a way that told Sonya that she wouldn't be hearing about Wade's will from him.

“So Wade did have every right to sell the diamond,” Sonya said pensively. “But the provision that the stone has to stay with Esperanza's bloodline might have an impact. That might allow the Dias family to claim it, or Bella, if she's pregnant with Wade's child.…”

Keith grinned again. “Is that enough to keep you thinking?”

Sonya grinned back. “Definitely. If Douglas left everything to Irina, then Harold shouldn't be too short of money—assuming his mother shares her wealth with him.” She ate a few bites, then added, “But I think she spends most of her money on herself. She's crazy about jewelry and antiques. Kirsten said that she's far from generous.”

“I wonder if she gets any money from her father. He's a rich developer from Cincinnati who is suspected of having connections with the local mob. Nothing ever proven, of course.” Keith looked intently at Sonya. “Did you know that Irina's mother was murdered and that the Cincinnati police have always suspected her father was the killer?”

“Yes,” Sonya said, nodding. “I researched it. Irina stood up for him in court.” She shook her head, wondering how that early trauma had impacted Irina. “What about Bella? Anything new about her?”

There was a pause while Keith once again decided how much to tell her. “Did I mention that we checked the calls she made the night of the murder? She definitely called her brother Rico in São Paulo. Bella hung up at two fifteen
A.M.
and Harold called nine-one-one at two thirty. The problem is, we don't know when Bella went upstairs to get help. There was a lot of confusion, understandably, and no one remembers exactly what time they did what, so there is some time not accounted for.”

He sighed and Sonya saw that he was exhausted. She looked into his green eyes and smiled, warmed by the knowledge that even though he was working, he had time for her. They finished their meal and left the diner.

“It's time for you to go home and get some rest—I wish I could, and you didn't get as much sleep as I did. You'll be safe there, and if you want me, you can call me on my cell.”

He looped his arm around her waist and kept it there as he hailed a cab. Once she was seated, he leaned over and gave the driver the address of her apartment.

“Straight home now,” he said. “I want to know you're safe.”

“Okay,” Sonya said. As the cab pulled away, her mind raced. She was now sure that Bella let Rico tell her what to do. Which meant that she had lied about the details of the night of Wade's death. Why would she lie, when it was reasonable that she call her brother when she found her husband's body?

Sonya leaned forward. “Driver, I've changed my mind.” She told him to drop her at the network offices. She had a lot of thinking and more interviews to do.

Who should she call first?

Harold.

She was eager to hear what he had to say about Wade's will.

Glancing up, she realized she had nearly reached the office and fired off a text to Perry, letting him know it was time to go back to work.

 

Chapter
28

S
ATURDAY, 4:00 P.M.

Irina's apartment

Perry was making good time negotiating East Side traffic, once again on the way to the Bruckheimer apartment building. How many times today had he loaded and unloaded the van?

“It's been a wild Saturday and I'm sorry I've had to keep you on call all day,” Sonya apologized. “I know you like your weekends off. You could have asked another cameraman to cover.”

“No way, no way,” he insisted. “This is my story too, you know, and no other guy is going to get his video in it.”

Sonya laughed. “Perry, seriously, I just don't know what I'd do without you.”

Obviously pleased, he grinned.

He pulled up in front of the imposing apartment building where the Bruckheimers lived. “Well, here we are again. Which apartment this time?”

“Irina's,” she answered. “Well, Irina, Harold, and Blair's. Same place we were before, only this time, I'll be interviewing Harold, and I doubt we'll use the kitchen.” She climbed out of the van.

“See you upstairs,” Perry said.

As before, the doorman announced her. Sonya found Harold waiting for her when she stepped off the elevator.

“I'm happy to meet you,” Harold said with what impressed Sonya as forced enthusiasm. “Come in, come in. My wife told me about your interview earlier today. She said it went well and that she gave you information about the diamond.

“I'm not sure what I can tell you that she didn't,” he said hesitantly, “though I'm happy to help if I can.”

“No worries. Everyone has a slightly different take on the same events.”

“Just remember, I'm no television personality like my wife.”

That's for sure, thought Sonya. His voice was flat and his manner somewhat withdrawn, but Harold was a good-looking man, with a face and build that would work on camera. He had an old-fashioned, conservative look and was neatly dressed in a brown tweed jacket, forest-green corduroy trousers, and brown sweater vest over a dark green shirt. He seemed the opposite of his flamboyant half-brother, Wade.

“Will we do the interview in the kitchen? You did Blair's there.”

“Kirsten told me that you have a home office. How about that?”

“Well,” he hesitated, “I guess so. But it's a mess.”

“Like mine,” said Sonya with a laugh. “Sounds perfect. Can I see it?”

He led her down a dark hallway, past a series of closed doors. As she walked, Sonya noticed that one door was ajar. Curious, she looked in and glimpsed a room filled with antiques and dominated by an elaborate bed. Probably Irina's, she thought. She paused for a moment to try to get a better look, but with a firmness she had not detected before, Harold took her by the arm and encouraged her to move along.

“That's my mother's bedroom,” he said softly. “She may be resting and you wouldn't want to disturb her. My office is just down the hall.” He gestured at a nearby door.

With the two rooms so close, Sonya thought, Harold and Irina probably see each other frequently. She wondered if Irina bothered to knock.

As if he had read her thoughts, Harold offered, “Though we share an apartment, we all lead our own lives. My mother, Blair, and I are all so busy.”

He opened the door to his office and ushered Sonya in. Contrary to his earlier statement, the room was in complete order. The largest piece of furniture was a dark wood partner's desk with a matched pair of wooden in- and out-boxes. Sonya moved closer, studying the desktop. A leather-trimmed blotter was centered in the main workspace and surrounded by an assortment of decorative items: a colorful glass paperweight; a fountain pen in a holder that was mounted on a small marble base—a small brass plate on the base was engraved D
OUGLAS
B
RUCKHEIMER
; two ornate silver frames—the larger and more ornate held a photo of Irina, the other displayed a picture of Blair. Harold's high-backed executive chair was upholstered in the same brown leather as the pair of side chairs set opposite the desk. Bookshelves, uniformly filled with leather-bound volumes, lined the walls. It was the perfect setting for Harold.

He seated himself behind the desk and drew Sonya's attention to the pen and holder. “As you can see, this belonged to my father. So did this office. I inherited it.”

“It's beautiful,” Sonya said. She wondered if Harold really used this office or if he just wanted to impress her. “We'll set up in here for the interview. I should check on my cameraman; he was taking the back elevator.”

Sonya's hopes of getting a chance to check out Irina's bedroom were dashed when Harold said, “I'll go with you,” and accompanied her into the hall. As they walked back toward the entry area, Sonya noticed that the door to Irina's room was now closed.

Perry was waiting at the front door; they collected him and returned to the office. Harold hovered over them as Perry set up his equipment. When the cameraman said he needed to bring in an additional light that he'd left in the front hall, Sonya was amused to see Harold standing in the center of the room, clearly faced with a dilemma. Should he stay, to prevent Sonya's snooping, or go with Perry, who might wander into some forbidden spot? He chose to stay with Sonya.

She decided to make sure Harold understood her concern for Kirsten. She told him that she'd visited earlier in the day and ended with, “I just can't get over my having put her in danger.”

Harold nodded. “It must be disturbing to know that someone is still out to harm you. Have you any idea who it might be?”

“No,” she said. “I know the police are doing a full investigation, including forensic analysis of the bullet and casing.” Sonya thought she heard him draw a breath and widen his eyes and decided to make sure to ask about the murder attempt during the interview.

Perry had come back and finished the lighting. He now asked Harold to sit. “We're ready, Sonya. Any time.”

She took a seat in one of the side chairs, opened her notebook, and began. “I understand that Wade's widow was the first to find his body. She went to you for help. Tell me about it.”

He bit his lower lip nervously. After a pause, he took out a crisp white handkerchief and wiped his forehead. Sonya knew that he was buying time to organize his thoughts, but she couldn't force him to speak, so she waited until Harold finally spoke.

“Bella came running up the stairs, shouting that Wade was dead. As I told the police, I went down to Wade's apartment to see for myself, and found that his bird was also dead. I called nine-one-one. When the medics arrived, they tried to revive him. The police came and told me to stay away from the body. They took a statement from me.”

He sat back and smiled, apparently satisfied with his answer. Despite his initial hesitation, it was obvious that Harold had told this story before and it was now well-practiced.

Sonya chose her next question carefully.

“Why did you refuse to let the family into the bedroom to see Wade's body?”

“Who told you that?” he snapped. “It's not true. Naturally, I tried to protect the murder scene. I knew the police would insist on that and they thanked me for doing the right thing.” He frowned. “I thought this interview was about the diamond. If you have questions about Wade's death, ask the police.”

“Harold, it seems that there is some confusion over who actually owns the Braganza. Your mother wears it, but Wade was going to sell it. I've heard that the Brazilian part of the family would like to have it. Your wife told me that you would get at least part of the income from the sale. Can you clarify the situation for me?”

“I'm afraid I can't say much about that. The Braganza did belong to my brother, Wade, but now that he's dead, the ownership and sale of the stone is a matter to be handled by his estate. While I will be taking care of that, I'm not at liberty to share any information yet.”

“Will the diamond be sold? I understand that important objects like the Braganza are often sent on tour, to Hong Kong, Geneva, London, and other major cities to increase interest in an auction. Will that happen to the Braganza?”

He appeared to be about to answer and then to think better of it. Sonya realized that it would be practically impossible for her to get a spontaneous, unguarded answer from him.

Harold smiled slightly and said, “I have to repeat that I can't answer that question. I have to talk to the attorney and the auction house before I can make any comment on a potential tour or sale.”

Sonya decided to ask once more, to see if she could rattle him. She took a more direct approach. “Are you authorized to deal with the sale?”

“Why not?” Harold replied defensively. “Wade was my brother—and I'm sure to be the executor of his estate.”

“I see. But what about your mother—how does she feel about selling the diamond?”

“If you want to know how she feels, you should ask her. I told you, I am not going to talk about that. Do you have any other questions?”

Clearly, his temper was rising. How would Donna handle him, Sonya asked herself. Change the subject and go easy, then return to hard questions later.

“I'd like to talk about your brother, Wade.”

Harold's voice softened and his face relaxed. “He was my brother and I loved him. I can't tell you how much I miss him. I keep expecting to go into his apartment and find him there. And he loved me too.”

“He was your half-brother, wasn't he? His mother was Esperanza Dias and yours is Irina Bruckheimer.”

“Yes, but that wasn't a problem between us. Wade was ten years older than me and he always took care of me. He was a great older brother. I knew nothing about his mother except that she was a kind of legend. Everyone said how wonderful she was, how beautiful. I'm sorry I never knew her.” He gave a short laugh as he continued. “But if she had lived, my father would never have married my mother, and I wouldn't be here, would I?”