Passion, Betrayal and Killer Highlights (12 page)

Anatoly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Did you call the police?”

“Um…”

“Why? Why do you always do this?”

“It wouldn’t have helped,” I said defensively. “I didn’t realize anyone else was there until I was already inside the house, and then I just ran out. By the time we had a chance to call the cops, it was clear the intruder was long gone.”

“If he left in a hurry he might have left something behind that could implicate him, or at least give us an idea about what he was looking for.” He checked his watch again. “We should go over there now and check things out.”

“I already did that last night.”

Anatoly’s jaw dropped. “You went back to the house after you knew someone had broken in? What if he had still been there?”

“I wasn’t alone. Dena and Leah were with me the whole time.”

“So the trespasser would have had to use three bullets instead of one.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been in more dangerous situations in the recent past.”

“But why test your luck? You can’t take those kinds of chances with your life.” He took a step closer to me and reached out to touch my hair. “You have too much to look forward to,” he said, his voice taking on a considerably softer tone.

I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through me. “What do I have to look forward to—?” My voice caught as I asked the question.

Anatoly took another step closer and leaned in so that his lips were no more than a centimeter away from my ear. “I know this is hard to believe,” he said, his breath tickling my skin, “but Starbucks is coming out with another variation of the Frappuccino.”

“Oh,” I breathed, “I wouldn’t want to miss out on that.”

Anatoly laughed softly and moved back. “So, no more needless risks. If you don’t want to call the police, at least call me and let me deal with it. That is what you’re paying me for, right?”

I nodded and willed my breathing to come out at an even pace. “Right, no more needless risks.”

“Good, now why don’t you tell me what you found at Leah’s when you went back.”

I filled him in on everything as we walked to my car. It didn’t take long, since there really wasn’t much to tell. I slid behind the wheel as he turned the whole thing over in his head.

“They took
all
the disks?”

“As far as I can tell.” I started the car and turned down the radio.

“What the hell could they have been expecting to find?”

“That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Leah thinks Bianca was trying to find records of her and Bob’s e-mail correspondence. It doesn’t seem likely, but I’ve yet to come up with an alternative hypothesis.”

“What makes Leah think they corresponded by e-mail?”

“Erika put the idea in her head. Who knows if it’s actually true or not, but—” I stopped short.

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought I just heard my mother’s voice—there it is again. Oh my God, it’s coming from the radio!” I pulled my car to a stop in front of someone’s driveway and turned up the volume.

“So you don’t think your daughter bore her husband any ill will?” the interviewer asked.

“No, I don’t. Let me tell you something about my Leah. She’s a nice girl. She was nothing but good to her husband and that was no small feat because he was a real
schlemiel
.”

“You didn’t like him?”

“What’s to like? I’ll never understand why she married him. In a church yet! But that’s the problem with girls today. They always take up with the nogoodniks. Her sister Sophie did the same thing and married some putz in Las Vegas. Now she’s divorced and running around town with a Russian. This one’s Jewish at least, so I don’t mind so much, but he needs to find himself a real job.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Please make it stop.”

But Mama continued. “Right now people hire him to take pictures of their husbands schtooping other women! You tell me, is that any way to make a living?”

Anatoly grinned. “Taking pictures of people schtooping—I think I’ll put that on my business cards.”

“Um, I see…” The interviewer’s voice was shaking; I was pretty sure he was trying to contain his laughter. “Do you think the police are treating your daughter Leah as a suspect because of her race?”

“Never you mind about her race,” my mother said sharply. “It’s not polite to talk about such things. It doesn’t matter what color my daughter is. What’s important is that she’s a real beauty and she’s single now. When all this nonsense about Bob blows over, she’ll have to beat them off with a stick, you just wait and see.”

“Oh, my God, why don’t they cut to a commercial?” I moaned.

“Right, well, that’s all the time we have….”

“Thank you!” I turned the radio off and looked at Anatoly. “I think I’m going to change my name.”

“What? And break your mother’s heart?”

“Go to hell.” I pulled the car back onto the road and drove toward Cheryl’s.

CHAPTER 6

“I like fanatics. They always make me feel well balanced.”

—
Words To Die By

A
natoly unbuckled his seat belt as I pulled into a parking spot. “Presuming she’s home, what are you planning on saying?” he asked.

“I’m working on that.”

“Perfect.”

I ignored his sarcasm and got out of the car. I had been forced to park seven blocks away from Cheryl’s building, so I had had some time to come up with a plan of action. Normally the best way to win Cheryl’s confidence was to drop a few celebrity names, but after her latest comments to the media she would expect me to be on the warpath and no name I could ever drop would convince her otherwise.

Anatoly and I walked together in silence as I racked my brain, and when we arrived at Cheryl’s door I had yet to have a lightbulb blink on over my head. Anatoly looked at me expectantly and I flashed him a nervous smile before pressing the appropriate buzzer.

“Hello?” said a voice from the intercom.

“Cheryl? It’s Sophie.”

She took her sweet time responding. “What do you want?”

“Listen…” I sucked in a breath, and then it hit me. “I was contacted by
Channel Four News.
They’re doing a piece featuring different perspectives on how the SFPD are handling Bob’s homicide case. They’re interested in interviewing both of us—”

The door buzzed open. I held the door for Anatoly before stepping in after him. “Am I that good, or is Cheryl just an idiot?”

Anatoly smiled at me appreciatively. “A little of both, I suspect.”

Cheryl met us at the top of the stairs. “Why didn’t
Channel Four News
contact me themselves?” she asked.

“They didn’t contact you?” I eyed her outfit. It was a replica of the one that Drew Barrymore had worn on the cover of the most recent issue of
Us
magazine. “Well, they did say they were thinking of asking you. I’m sure that if I nudge them a little, they’ll follow through.”

Cheryl lifted her chin half an inch. “Why would you do that?”

I shrugged innocently. “Oh, I don’t know…maybe I just want to have the opportunity to rip you apart in front of a few hundred thousand viewers.”

Cheryl smiled. “I don’t think it would work out that way, but you’re welcome to try.” Her eyes traveled to Anatoly and she immediately lowered her head and peered at him through her heavily mascaraed eyelashes. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” She reached out her hand in a manner that would suggest that she wanted it kissed.

Anatoly shook it unenthusiastically. “I’m Anat—”

“Anatoly Darinsky. I saw you on TV right after Sophie had you arrested. I must say, not many guys are as forgiving as you.” She put her hand on her heart. “My brother was like that, too. Of course I’m sure things will work out better for you than it did for him—just because Sophie’s sister is out of control doesn’t mean Sophie is—or at least not as much so…hopefully.”

“Oh, what-the-fuck-ever.” I yanked my purse strap up before it could slide off my shoulder. “Look, Cheryl, I don’t have a lot of time. If I’m going to convince the producers to let you share the air with me then I’m going to have to tell them what they can expect from you. Do you have time for a few questions, or not?”

Cheryl tossed her hair behind her shoulder and gestured for us to follow her into her apartment.

This was the first time I had ever visited Cheryl’s home. One look at her place told me she wasn’t the type to leave dishes on the counter or mail strewn over the coffee table—not because she was exceptionally neat, but because there were so many trinkets that if she were to leave a lipstick on a countertop it would immediately become lost amongst the kitsch. I walked forward and examined some cute but badly displayed martini-glass-shaped votive candleholders.

“Aren’t those just fabulous?” cooed Cheryl. “They’re the same ones Jessica Simpson has in her living room.”

I looked up at her and then studied the other knickknacks with a new eye. I was willing to bet that they were all duplicates of things Cheryl believed to be in celebrity homes. It was amazing—in a pathetic kind of way.

“Cheryl,” I said, working overtime to keep the disdain out of my voice, “why have you been telling the media that Leah and Bob’s marriage was in trouble?”

“Um…because it
was.
” She rolled her eyes at Anatoly to underscore her feeling about my question. “Anyone with half a brain could see how unhappy they were.”

“There’s a big difference between not being happy with your husband and wanting to kill him,” Anatoly said.

I averted my eyes. It had been my experience that the two emotions went hand in hand, but it didn’t seem prudent to argue the point.

“You don’t know Leah like I do.” Cheryl put a hand on Anatoly’s arm and scooted closer to him. “She’s not stable.”

“How could she be?” I asked. “She’s a black Jew and you know how we can be. If we’re not shooting someone in a crack-induced frenzy, we’re controlling the media with our fellow conspirators.”

Cheryl’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have any more questions, or are you done?”

I sat down on her couch and made myself comfortable. “I’m sure that the guys at
Channel Four
will want to know exactly when you spoke to Bob last.”

“The last time?” Cheryl swallowed and started toying with a framed, autographed photo of Matt Damon. “I’m not exactly sure when that was. Things have been kind of crazy lately.”

“You mean with all the demands put on a front-desk clerk you’ve had a hard time managing anything else.” I smiled sweetly. “I can see how that could happen.”

“I’m sure I spoke to him less than a week before he died,” she growled.

“Really?” I asked. “Was that on the phone or did you meet him somewhere?”

“Why does any of this make a difference? My brother’s dead and your sister killed him. That’s what matters.”

Anatoly raised an eyebrow.

“Come on, Cheryl.” I leaned forward and leveled my gaze on her. “The police must have asked you about this. What did you tell them?”

“They did ask.” She flipped her hair again and walked over to the bench she had placed by the bay window. “I told them what I told you.”

“And what did you tell me again?”

She whirled around and glared at me. “That I didn’t remember. It may have been longer than a week before his death, okay? It may have been more like a month. I’ve been busy. I just moved, and it took a lot of time and energy to really infuse this place with my own personal flare.”

My eyes scanned the apartment again. “Is that what you were going for? I thought you wanted to infuse it with the flare of JLo.”

“You have no intention of recommending that
Channel Four News
interview me, do you.” She put her hands on the armrest of the sofa and leaned forward so that she was invading my space. “You just came here to harass me.”

Anatoly came up behind Cheryl and, taking her shoulder, gently drew her back into an upright position. “Don’t let her get to you.” He turned her around so she was facing him. “The idea to get you on
Channel Four
was mine. I thought it would be better if you and Sophie could be on the air together. Otherwise the interview would come off as one-sided and meaningless. But if you’re there—” he smiled and let his hand slowly slide down her arm as he withdrew it “—people will hear your impassioned plea and your intelligent arguments and they’ll be forced to think about the facts. And that’s all we want—for people’s assumptions to be educated ones.”

Cheryl smiled. “I should have known it was your idea to come here. You’re obviously the kind of person who likes to play fair—unlike other people we know.” She lowered herself onto a brown leather armchair without breaking eye contact with Anatoly. It was amazing that anyone as calculating as Cheryl could be this gullible. Or maybe she knew Anatoly was playing her and hoped that if she went along with it he’d manipulate her right into the bedroom. That was so not going to happen. “You know, it’s not like I’m in cahoots with the police in order to put Leah away. The cops aren’t even being very nice to me. Can you believe they actually asked me to retract my last statement to the media?”

“Nooo.” I pulled out the word, and made a face to emphasize how shocking I found that.

Cheryl ignored me. “I didn’t say anything bad, you know. Leah’s desperate, and if by some miracle she hasn’t played the race card yet, it’s just a matter of time before she does. And as for those people who say my statements reeked of anti-Semitism—I don’t get that at all. All I said was that her family was Jewish—and yeah, okay, I implied that Jews are traditionally wealthy, but why is that a bad thing? Everybody wants to be rich and famous, right? And most Jews are rich and everyone knows they hold all the top media positions, so it seems to me that they should be proud of their accomplishments. It’s the American dream.”

“I understand exactly what you’re saying,” Anatoly said, before sneaking me a look that told me he did understand Cheryl and was properly disgusted. “Cheryl—” he swiveled back in her direction “—it must have been horrible when Leah called and told you the news.”

“Yes.” She blinked and looked away. “It was.”