The Third Sin (9 page)

“Do what I say, call emergency,
right now
. If the police check your phone records for any reason, you don't want it to look like we had a long chat while Wade was dying.

“Do what I say and do it immediately. Go upstairs and get Harold to call for help. I'll talk to you tomorrow, find a New York lawyer for you, and get on a flight there if you need me. And Bella, watch what you say.” He clicked off the phone.

She stood staring into the sink, which was still flecked with her vomit. She filled the ice cream carton with water and used it to clean the sink. With it went the horror of her life with Wade. Rico would look after her just as he had when Jorge Dias had forced her to sign a prenuptial agreement. “Don't worry about it,” he'd told her. “It's meaningless. We'll contest it when he dies and you'll get everything.”

Despite Rico's instructions, she couldn't bring herself to dial 911. Bella wandered through the living room, stopping in front of the oil portrait of Wade's mother. She could finally have that painting taken down. She would be free of the specter of the perfect Esperanza. Bella smiled at the sight of the Braganza around Esperanza's neck. The money from the auction would soon be hers.

Slowly she climbed the stairs to Harold's apartment, thinking about what Rico had said.

Wade was an unhappy man. He had every reason to commit suicide.

She would inherit the Braganza.

At the top of the steps, Bella began to scream, “Help me … it's Wade.”

 

Chapter
11

F
RIDAY, 4:00 A.M.

Sonya's apartment

The distinctive, insistent sound of a cell phone ring tone penetrated Sonya's deep sleep. Before opening her eyes, she lay still for a moment to be sure she was really awake—that the ringing was not part of the frightening dreams she had been having the past few nights.

Sonya slept with her cell phone on the bedside table and kept it at full volume, a habit she developed in her first job as a producer of local news in Minneapolis. News like fatal car accidents usually happened in the early hours of the morning, and she had to dress and be ready for the crew in minutes.

On a network magazine show in New York the nighttime calls were rare, but she liked to feel she was always available.

“Who is it?” she whispered, keeping her head on the pillow and turning away to avoid waking Keith.

The dramatic sob that answered her could only come from Kirsten.

Sonya kept her voice calm and businesslike, hoping it would stem the intern's outburst. “What is it, Kirsten? What's the matter? Why are you calling at this hour?”

“Oh, Sonya, I'm so glad to hear your voice,” Kirsten said, adding, with another sob, “Wade's dead.”

Sonya sat up, now fully awake. “What? Wade's dead? How?”

“We don't know how. And Harold won't let me see him or tell me anything, but I wanted you to know. I'll try to find out everything.”

Sonya sensed movement on the other side of the bed. Keith was awake. “Wade Bruckheimer's dead?”

Sonya nodded.

“Just a minute, Kirsten, while I get up and go into another room.” She went into the kitchen and settled at the table. Keith headed for the bathroom. Sonya frowned, hoping he wasn't going to try to be part of her conversation. The cop in him would have trouble resisting news of an unexpected death.

“Now, Kirsten, tell me what's going on.”

“Is Keith with you?”

Sonya ignored the question and said, “I want to help you. Just be calm and tell me what you know.”

“Okay, okay.” Kirsten took an audible breath. “Bella came home and couldn't wake him. Then Harold went down and looked at him and called the police.” She added with annoying petulance, “That's why I wanted to know if Keith was there. Maybe he can find out what'll be in the police report.”

Sonya wanted to blast Kirsten for not knowing that that would be all but impossible and might endanger Keith's career, but realized that the young woman was genuinely upset and needed understanding, not criticism.

As gently as she could, Sonya said, “You know he can't do that, Kirsten. Is everyone else all right?”

The other woman began sobbing again. “Cacao's dead too.”

Kirsten's crying was so violent that Sonya began to wonder if it was genuine. Was Kirsten self-centered enough to be weeping over the possibility that the Braganza story would be canceled?

“The bird is dead too?”

“Yes. Yes.” Kirsten almost choked the words out.

“Kirsten, take a minute and calm down. Get a drink of water,” Sonya said firmly. “I'll hold on. Then you can start from the beginning.”

Keith came out of the bathroom and kissed Sonya on the neck. Without thinking, she shrugged her shoulders to shake him off. He stood motionless behind her for a moment, then moved away. Sonya put her hand over the phone, and whispered, “I'm sorry … you can see I have an emergency here.…”

“Okay. I'll make some coffee.”

Kirsten returned to the conversation, sounding calmer, though she still sniffed back tears every few words. “Here's what I know. Bella found Cacao dead in his cage and when she tried to tell Wade, she couldn't wake him. I got up when I heard her shouting for Harold. She was drunk and was sick all over the bathroom floor.”

“Did you see her yourself?”

“Yes, and she was hysterical at first. Mom told me to get out of the way. I waited while Bella got cleaned up and put on one of Mom's dressing gowns. Then Mom made her lie down.”

“What was your impression of her, besides the fact that she was drunk? And what did you mean about her being hysterical ‘at first'?”

“She was calmer after she got cleaned up, but I could still smell the alcohol on her. Of course she was nervous, but she wasn't crying or anything. I wanted to sit with her, but my mom told me to stay away and let her rest.”

“Who checked on Wade?”

“I heard Harold go down as soon as Bella came upstairs shouting, before I even got out of my room. After a while, he walked halfway up the stairs and told Mom and me that he'd called the police.”

“How long was he in Wade's apartment?”

“He's still down there; he went back down after talking to Mom and me. The police are there now but I don't know if Wade's body has been taken away.”

“When did all this start, Kirsten?”

“A little after two
A.M.
, I think. When Bella's screaming woke me up, I looked at the clock.”

Keith put a cup of steaming coffee in front of Sonya, then sat down at the table, holding his own cup. Sonya took a drink, then said, “So you haven't seen the body?”

“No. Harold wouldn't let me. He said things had to be left just as they were until the police were finished. That's all I know.”

“Think it over for a minute and see if you remember anything else.”

“Okay,” Kirsten agreed calmly, fully recovered from her tears at the beginning of their conversation. “Oh, Sonya, what about our diamond story? Mom said it would definitely be sold now that Wade's dead. I'll be ready to get to work right away this morning.”

“We'll talk about the story later. Just tell me what Harold said, if you remember.”

“He said he couldn't find Wade's pulse and was sure he wasn't breathing. Mom went down to him and they walked away from the stairs, so I couldn't hear them. I tried to get closer but my mother saw me and told me to go back upstairs. When she came back and I asked her what was wrong she told me the same things Harold had.”

“Where is your mother now?”

“She's sitting with Bella. That's typical of her. Bella's my friend, but Mother pushed me out and took over.”

“And Irina?”

“I'm not sure. She always closes her bedroom door and it's really hard to wake her up. Even all that noise downstairs may not have been enough, because I haven't seen her. I think she takes something to help her sleep. I don't think Harold's going to tell her until the police leave.”

“Have you any idea what the police are doing now?”

“No, I don't know.” Kirsten gave an exasperated sigh. “I don't know why they won't let me see Wade.”

“You were close to him. Maybe Harold and your mother are trying to protect you. It's not easy to see the body of someone you love.”

“Why do I need protection? I'm not a kid. You know how strong I am. They resent me and Harold treats me like an outsider. I hate him and I hate my mother for marrying him. Wade was the only one who loved me.” Kirsten's voice had hardened.

Sonya took another deep breath. “Listen, Kirsten, let's not get into all this now. Have a little understanding. Wade is Harold's brother. He must be in shock.”

“Well, I'll give him a shock. I called my father and told him what was happening. My poor dad. He's shaken up. You know he loved Wade and hated Harold, too. He said he was coming right over; he should be here any minute.”

“I'm going to hang up now. I don't need to hear all this now. I'll see you at the office, later.” Sonya paused for a moment. “Come in late if you have to, and if you decide you need the day off, take it. And damnit, Kirsten, stop making all these thoughtless judgments.”

Kirsten's voice rose in anger and the words poured out of her. “I've lived with Harold for eighteen years. The only person he cares for is his mother. He does everything she asks because he wants her money.”

“That's enough,” Sonya said sharply. “I've changed my mind. Take the day off. I don't want you at work until you calm down.” She clicked off the phone.

“What's going on, Red?” Keith asked. “She really knows how to upset you.”

“I guess you got the gist of it … Wade Bruckheimer is dead. Harold and Blair have kept Kirsten away from the scene, but I'll bet there's a big story here. Wade was about to sell a thirty-million-dollar diamond and now he's dead in a house full of greedy people … most of them wanting the stone.”

“You suspect murder?”

“Exactly. From the little Kirsten told me, it could be natural causes or even suicide. But my reporter's instinct tells me it may not be.”

“They'll do an autopsy on him, so you'll know the cause of death soon enough.”

“And his bird died too. What about that?”

“His bird? Suspicious, for sure. They'll do a necroscopy on the bird.”

Sonya reached out and touched his hand. “Keith, I'm sorry … I mean, when you kissed me, I was upset and tired—a lethal combination for lovers.”

“Thanks, Red … I understand. It got to me for a while, but I'm okay. How about a little more coffee?”

“I'm wired already. Better not have any more. I've got to get to work early. For one thing, the local station will want some of my tape of Wade for the morning news.” She stopped and looked at Keith, suddenly remembering, “Oh, Keith, I forgot you have early shift this morning. I'm sorry my phone woke you.”

“That's okay.”

“You‘ve been taking care of me.” She stood and moved to him. “Now what can I get for you?”

He got up and kissed her. “Nothing, Red. I have to confess I sneaked in an English muffin and juice while I was making the coffee.”

She laughed. “I might have guessed. Now go get ready. I'll take the bathroom after you.”

On the way, he stopped and turned back, laughing with her. “Come to think of it, there is one thing you can do for me. Change that ring tone on your cell. It's powerful.”

She started to reply, but he smiled and added, “Just kidding. It's great.”

Sonya looked at the cell phone on the table. She knew he was lying. The ring tone she chose had a special meaning. As a child, she'd often heard her mother humming a song, and she unconsciously learned it. Sonya had had no idea what the lyric was, or even the name of the song. He mother had said she couldn't remember. But Sabrina, who prided herself as an expert on pop songs of the fifties and sixties, knew it immediately when Sonya had hummed it for her, years earlier.

She'd said, “Sonya, for sure that's Paul Revere and the Raiders, from the sixties. It's ‘Hungry.'”

“Are you sure? It doesn't sound like my mother's kind of thing.”

“Absolutely sure.”

Soon after that conversation, Sonya had found the song online and downloaded it to her phone. It had been her ring tone ever since. As if on cue, the melody played as her phone lit up. Caller ID told her it was Donna. She answered, “Good morning.”

“You heard from Kirsten, I'm sure,” Donna said without any greeting.

“Yes, I have. Did Kirsten call you?”

“She's sure it's murder. What do you think?”

“Donna, it's too early to come to any conclusion. Let's wait for the police report.”

“Kirsten sounded sure, but you know what she's like. We can discuss it as soon as you get in.”

She abruptly clicked off, leaving Sonya still holding the silent phone.

 

Chapter
12

F
RIDAY, 8:00 A.M.

Network office

Sonya was surprised to see Kirsten waiting near the reception desk when she arrived. Her head was tilted downward in the pose Sonya had noticed she often used to elicit sympathy. At least, thought Sonya, she's not gossiping with the receptionist, for a change.

“Is Donna in yet?” Sonya asked the security guard.

“No,” was the reply.

Deciding to wait to speak to Kirsten, Sonya nodded in greeting and said, “Give me fifteen minutes to get settled, then come see me.” She walked briskly past the young woman, heading for her office.

She wondered which Kirsten she was about to see—the grief-stricken woman who had called her in a panic early that morning or the television professional. Kirsten's sorrow had seemed genuine, but Sonya wasn't sure how deeply she had been affected by Wade's death. One thing was obvious, though: Kirsten's competitive drive.