The Third Sin (25 page)

She explained how she had promised Kirsten to find the murderer. “I've had misgivings about it. The rule is that a journalist should report on a story, not become part of it. Do you think I was wrong?”

“It's a professional question, and as I don't know all the rules of reporting I'll leave it up to you. Frankly, I'd prefer to see you off this story. It's not safe.”

When she objected, he added, “But I know that's not an option. So I'm going to ask you again to be extra careful as you go about your investigation. Goodness knows you've uncovered a killer or two in the last few years. If you do that again just by pursuing your normal leads, then you'll have lived up to your promise. If not, then you'll still have tried your best.”

She didn't want to disagree so she said nothing. His suggestion might satisfy her promise but not her sense of the ethics involved.

“Now let me see if I can sort out some facts from my interviews.

“The three apartments are connected, so anyone can get into anyone else's place. I don't know if there are locks on any of the connecting doors, but even if there are, I doubt they are ever used. Whenever I was there, whether I was in Wade's apartment or Harold and Blair's, I always had the feeling that someone was listening out of sight.

“Like when I was interviewing Wade, and Kirsten and her father, Giorgio, suddenly appeared out of nowhere. They were like two silent cats—lurking and then suddenly there.

“Wade said that they were all just one happy family, but it's clear to me that he was trying to cover up a lot of dirt. When I asked him about his uncle Jorge, at first he denied having heard from him, then told me that his uncle was expected.” Sonya paused to look at her notes.

“I met Jorge and his wife today. Let me tell you, Jorge Dias has strong convictions about family honor. Even though Wade is dead, Jorge can't stop expressing his anger about his nephew, can't stop dwelling on Wade's failure to uphold the family's image.”

Beside her, Keith said, “Hmm.”

“There's something else that's been bothering me. Considering that Wade just died, no one in the family truly seemed to be upset or grieving, except for Kirsten. In most families, when someone dies, everyone gathers for support and cries together. The Bruckheimers went on with their lives with hardly a glitch. Even after they learned that Wade was murdered.”

Keith agreed, adding, “They have the reputation for being uptight. I expect you'll see a lot more anger than grief from them as the investigation goes on.”

Sonya continued, “Another thing about the uncle. The Dias family is still a powerhouse in Brazil, and through the years, they repeatedly got Wade out of trouble. You mentioned the bird exporters and their gang. They wouldn't have much love for Wade, and might be working with Bella's shady family.

“Bella could get a lot from the sale of that diamond. I doubt she has the right to sell it but if her family gets their hands on it, that won't matter.” Sonya picked up her glass and took a long sip of wine.

“Now that I think about it, Wade was perfectly relaxed with me until he moved Cacao to another room. When he came back, his mood had changed—and when Kirsten and her dad interrupted my interview, they came in from that direction. Maybe they ran into Wade earlier and said something to him? Or maybe just seeing them there upset him.”

“What did you find out from Bella?” Keith asked. “After all, she was Wade's wife. She should have known him best.”

“I'm not sure anyone in that family really knows anyone,” Sonya said with a little laugh. “But as far as Bella is concerned, Keith, you've supplied part of her motive—the Brazilian lover. I think that money is her strongest motivation, though I also want to know more about her brother Rico.

“Bella said she phoned him after she found Wade and that he was supposed to come to New York, to help her. That was days ago but there's been no sign of him in the city and now Bella says she doesn't know where he is. I researched her family and I'd say they're pretty rough and that they don't have a lot of respect for people like the Diases.”

“Phone records show that Bella definitely called Rico the night Wade was murdered. I wonder if they've spoken since,” Keith said musingly. “But I don't have anything to justify a new warrant.”

Sonya shook her head. “When I saw Bella today, she was practically falling-down drunk. She was even confused about who got shot, me or Kirsten.”

Keith grunted, then asked, “What about Harold?”

“That was interesting. I talked to Blair first, and she was evasive when I asked her who owned the diamond, who controlled it, and so forth. I don't think anyone in that family ever just tells the truth. Everyone is always hiding something. Eventually Blair said that her husband would be making all the decisions.

“Now, when I interviewed Harold, he confirmed that he was the executor of Wade's will, but he was very hesitant when I asked him about the particulars of the auction. About all he said was that he had to talk to the auction house and Wade's lawyer.”

“It seems to me that there's plenty of motive to go around. Everyone in the family could use the money from the sale of the diamond.”

“True. Even Blair. Even though she has some income from her show and her cookbooks, it hasn't been enough for her to realize her dream of running a restaurant. Selling the Braganza would make that possible.”

“Do you think,” Keith asked, “that she would commit murder to get it?”

“Who knows? I don't trust her or Harold—or any of them, to be honest.

“I still want to interview Irina. That might tell me a lot.” She looked at Keith. “One thing has stuck with me all day—Bella's confusion over who was shot. It seemed so strange that she didn't know who had been attacked, especially since I was standing right there, talking to her.”

“You said she was very drunk.”

“True. But it makes me wonder. Is it possible that someone was really after Kirsten?” Sonya frowned. “That would put a new spin on things, wouldn't it?”

Keith said, “It's too late to start speculating on that now. Let's go to bed.”

 

Chapter
31

S
UNDAY, 10:00 A.M.

Irina's apartment

The phone sounded, an annoying buzz. Harold didn't answer. He strongly suspected it was his mother, since he hadn't spoken to her since the previous evening. Usually he called her soon after he got up each morning. Today Blair had let him sleep a little later than usual, explaining when she'd awakened him that she thought he could use the rest after dealing with Wade's estate and that Sonya Iverson person the previous day.

Harold had decided she was right and he should be easy on himself. So he shaved and showered, then put on his robe and took his time with coffee and one of Blair's superior muffins. The phone had rung a few times and he'd ignored it. Now, listening to the buzz, Harold realized that if it was Irina, she would simply continue to call back until she reached him. With a sigh, he picked up the receiver.

“Yes, Mother. What is it?” he asked, trying to hide his annoyance.

“Been trying all morning … reach you. Why no … answer?” she gasped.

“Are you all right, Mother? You sound out of breath.”

“Need to see you. My bedroom. Have to talk. Hardly slept.”

Hearing the panic in her voice, Harold was overwhelmed with guilt for not having called her earlier. “Mother,” he said soothingly, “I'll be there as soon as I dress. Just lie down. I'm coming.”

“Good. Come,” she said.

Harold hung up and rushed to his closet, quickly dressing in trousers and a plain button-down shirt. Worries chased one another through his thoughts. Had she had a stroke? Was she having an asthma attack? A panic attack?

From an early age Harold had known that his mother had faced enormous challenges when she was a young girl. Her mother's brutal murder had left permanent scars on her psyche, but for the most part, Irina had balanced her fears with a steely determination to survive.

She could be difficult and erratic, but he had never heard her so upset and unable to control herself.

He knew that since Wade's death, Irina had been closeted in her bedroom. Except for the police and Harold, she had seen no one in the past two days. She had told Harold that she'd called his grandfather, Max, and that always upset her.

Years ago, Irina had told Harold, “Someday, I want you to know what Max did to my mother, your grandmother. I've written out the whole story and put it in my safety deposit box. Once I'm gone, you can read it, and then you will know what to do if Max gives you any trouble.

“You must always remember that he is a terrible man.”

Harold asked for more details, but his mother had refused to tell him anything more. “It's unbearable to go through the past,” she said.

He knew little of his mother's relationship with her father—just that when she asked him for anything, which she did rarely, he would be extremely cold and disinterested at first. Max would tell Irina that she should be grateful for everything he had already done for her and that she should not ask for more. Eventually he would give in to her request, but only after he had made her grovel.

What had Irina wanted from Max this time, and how much was he torturing her?

Harold walked quickly down the hall. Before he could knock on the door to his mother's bedroom, she opened it—probably she had been listening for his footsteps.

Her appearance was shocking. He was accustomed to seeing Irina made up and neatly groomed, every hair in place, dressed elegantly, but today she wore a loosely belted robe and looked disheveled and drawn. Around her neck was the gold chain on which she usually hung the Braganza; the fingers of one hand played with the links.

Irina grabbed Harold and hugged him tightly. After a long moment, Harold gently loosened her grasp and guided her slowly to her chaise. He eased her down carefully, feeling even more ashamed for not having taken her calls sooner.

“Here, Mother. Lie down. Be calm. I'm with you and I love you.” He felt compelled to excuse himself. “I'm sorry I didn't hear the earlier calls. Blair forgot to wake me.”

“I'm so much better now that you are here, Harold. I had nightmares—frightening things coming at me. I dreamed about your father, my father, my mother. And when I woke up, all I could think about was Kirsten.”

He felt her relax against the back of the chaise. “There, that's better, Mother,” he said, releasing her. He drew up a chair beside the chaise and sat down, then took Irina's hand. “How can I help?”

“Kirsten is lying in the hospital, in pain, and I know it's because of the diamond. And I keep thinking about that woman from television.”

“You mean Sonya Iverson?”

“Yes. I phoned her a little while ago. She wasn't in, so I left a message asking her to call me.”

“For god's sake, why?” Harold demanded.

She covered her face with her handkerchief and turned away. Harold relented immediately, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his pounding heart.

“Mother, I'm sorry I spoke that way. It's just that I was surprised to hear that you called Sonya. Why did you do that?”

“I'm afraid that the attack on Kirsten will be part of the story. She's young, with her whole life ahead of her. She must be protected. I know what reporters can do to you. I know. I know,” Irina said, her voice rising.

“You can't understand.” She shook her head back and forth as if that would banish any unhappy thoughts. “I remember how the newspapers treated me. I don't want that to happen to Kirsten.”

“But, Mother,” Harold said. She put her finger to his mouth to quiet him.

“Everywhere I went, people stared and pointed at me. It's worse today, with those horrible paparazzi. We mustn't let that happen to Kirsten.” Irina sat up, faced Harold, and spoke with deadly calm. “If Sonya Iverson hurts Kirsten, I will hurt her. You know I can arrange that.”

As close as they had been, Harold had never seen his mother this way. She had survived her husband's affairs and rejection, Max's cruelty, and the jealous gossip of New York society. Through it all, Irina had been determined and fierce … and until now, he had no idea of the emotional price she had paid.

Harold tried to reassure her. “I promise you, Mother, I'll talk to Sonya Iverson. After all, Kirsten is my stepdaughter, my responsibility. I had no idea you cared so much for her.”

Irina responded, “I see myself in her.” She stood up and went to the full-length mirror that stood in the corner. “When I have the Braganza for my own, perhaps I'll let her wear it sometime.”

She smoothed back her hair and toyed with the gold chain, turning a loop from side to side as if the diamond was hanging from it and catching the light. Harold was astounded at the change in his mother's attitude toward Kirsten. Just the previous day, when he'd told Irina that Kirsten was in the hospital, his mother had responded with a shrug.

During Kirsten's childhood, Irina had often complained about her, about how she dressed, how she spoke, her manners, her anorexia, everything. To Harold, this had been a distressing echo of his own younger days, when he had done everything he could to please his mother. He had always felt that he'd disappointed her and he hated seeing the pattern continue with his stepdaughter.

The strain between Irina and Blair, between Irina and Kirsten, had negatively affected Harold's relationship with his family. He and Blair often fought about Irina; his defense of his mother had put a barrier between him and Kirsten.

“Yes,” Irina continued. “When she is a bit better, I'll visit Kirsten in the hospital and let her know that when she is older, she can wear the stone. She'll like that. She appreciates fine things, just as I do.” She sat next to Harold and cajoled, “You can arrange things, can't you? You're the executor and can do it for me.”