Wicked Obsessions (19 page)

His system had nothing to do with courts of law and administrative procedures and computer searches, and everything to do with solving crimes the old-fashioned way—with one's nose. Of course, to put one of the scumbags away, a detective still had to present the proper evidence, but it saved a lot of time when you knew who the guilty party was to start with. Then you simply had to come up with the proof to back up the truth. It usually worked.

This time it worked in reverse. Word on the street was that Rico Gambini had paid his debt in full to the Irishman as he was supposed to. And no one knew of any debts or loans still outstanding with anyone else. Everyone seemed to agree, he was too good a customer for them to off him for being a little late. They might have hurt him, but with the man dead, they'd all lost a good source of income that had promised to get even better. On the other hand, the Irish mob was glad to take anonymous credit for the hit, allowing their delinquent debtors to believe that they could end up like Gambini if they didn't take their debts to the Irishman very seriously.

He learned that Nunzio had, in fact, issued the threat to Mrs. Gambini, but, as luck would have it, his mother was seriously injured in a car accident the next day and he had immediately left to be with her in Tampa. Kidder had no trouble confirming that Nunzio had been in Florida when Gambini was being butchered. He could not possibly have been the man the little old lady had seen leaving the apartment building.

But in spite of that fact, he decided not to relate any of it to Hart for fear the captain would assign him to some other case that would pull him away from catching the real killers. As long as Hart thought he was busy trying to find Nunzio, he was leaving him alone. He also thought it was important to let Mrs. Gambini continue to think she was off the hook.

Everything was falling into place for Kidder's theory to be substantiated. Since it was not a professional hit, it had to be personal. If it wasn't Nunzio at the apartment complex, it had to be someone made up to look like him, right down to his earring, and the real murderers would know exactly what he looked like because they had been face-to-face with him. Although it had been inadvertent, Nunzio had apparently given them a surefire way to make it look like a mob hit. Drew Marshall was tall, with dark features. With the right props, he could have disguised himself to look like the thug they'd all seen. For an emotionally based homicide, Kidder thought the plan was quite ingenious.

He was already certain Mrs. Gambini and Marshall were lovers. During a polite conversation with Marshall's cousin at the Forsythe Gallery, Kidder learned that the Marshall family had visited New York on two other occasions in the last ten years. Therefore, even though Marshall had just recently moved to New York, there had been an opportunity for him to have met Mrs. Gambini through his cousin prior to that. It was possible that no one had ever been aware of their long-distance affair.

But maybe the husband had found out. Maybe he'd refused to grant his wife a nice, clean divorce. Maybe the gambling fever had him wanting to hold on to her and her growing bank account whether she was faithful or not. Rather than the church's objection,
that
could be why no divorce papers had been filed, even though Mrs. Gambini insisted they were getting divorced. Marshall's divorce had been finalized ten months before. All they needed to live happily ever after was to get Rico Gambini out of the way.

And
bingo!
Kidder had the motive he'd been looking for. What he needed now was a third party who could verify the long-standing relationship and divorce problems. He needed a friendly conversation with a confidante of one of them who wasn't bright enough to know she was betraying a friend—the giant, redheaded dingbat model, for instance.

The background check on Marshall supported his theory as well. The cowboy was a convicted felon. Kidder guessed the pressure of a cross-country affair, a growing family, and a high-stress job pushed him into using drugs. But every good cop knows it's a short walk from getting hooked to dealing to being capable of murder. Marshall
could
have done it. And without having a nine-to-five job to report to, he had plenty of opportunity.

There was only one hole that needed filling and it was staring up at him from the autopsy report on his desk. He had been told the tiny fragment of foreign pubic hair might have nothing to do with the murder, but he wasn't so sure. He reread the findings for the third time. It made him think of completing a jigsaw puzzle only to find there's one more piece, but no place left to put it.

In spite of Captain Hart's repeated order to leave Teri Gambini alone, Kidder could think of no one else who might be able to shed some light on this problem. Besides, he had purposely stayed away for two days to let her think she could relax. That way, his next attack on her nerves would be a total surprise.

* * *

Teri realized she was finally beginning to relax. With the unwinding, however, came the boredom, and by Friday morning, she was back at her easel.

Except for that one disturbing incident, Selena had been excellent company on Monday and other than daily phone checks, had left her alone the rest of the week. Drew had been busy with several new assignments all week that kept him away from her studio, which he said was the best way he could think of to guarantee he abided by the two-week waiting period they'd agreed on. But he still called every evening. Neither of them said anything vitally important. They hadn't needed to.

She had not expected to feel his absence so much, or so soon, but just hearing his voice before she went to sleep had been like a balm to her lonely soul. He had mentioned his needing to use the darkroom today. She told herself that had nothing to do with her own need to be in the studio, but she recognized the white lie for what it was and looked forward to his arrival.

Instead, Detective Kidder showed up. When he told her he had more questions, she almost closed the studio door in his face.

"It will only take a few minutes."

Teri resisted the urge to ask if he was joking. None of their previous encounters had taken only a few minutes. "Do you mind if I continue to paint? I just blended the tint I want, and I'd hate to have it dry on me."

"Not at all," he said, walking up to her easel. "You were working on this the last time I was up here, weren't you?"

"Yes, I believe so." She edged him out of the way so that she could sit down on her high stool.

"I guess it takes a long time to finish one of these, eh?"

"Sometimes." Teri decided politeness was no longer required with the annoying man. She wished she could have dealt solely with that nice Captain Hart. "Detective, I don't want to be rude, but I
am
working, and you said you had some more questions."

"Yes. Yes, I do. Would you happen to have any of that delicious coffee of yours brewed?"

Teri growled under her breath. "No. I didn't make any today."

"Too bad. It's really very good. Is it some special blend?"

"Detective!" She could see his hearing aid in place, so she knew that was not his problem. He seemed to be purposely trying to make her blow up at him. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. You must understand, I'm not myself yet. My painting relaxes me, and I'd like to get back to it."

"Of course," he said with a great deal of false compassion. "I received the autopsy report on your late husband this morning. It contained something very puzzling." He let her hang for a moment before continuing. "You mentioned that you suspected your husband cheated on you, possibly even during his working hours, but you didn't know that as a fact."

Teri swiveled her chair to look at him more directly. "That's right. I don't see how that's of any importance now."

"If you'll just bear with me a moment. It seems to me that a wife who really wanted a divorce and who suspected her husband was having an affair, would make an effort to find out about it, you know, to ease the path."

"I suppose that's possible, but I fit more into the category of the wife who sticks her head in the sand because she's too busy building a career to be distracted."

"I see. I had really hoped... Well, if you say you have no idea who he might have been seeing, I guess that's that. Did he have any male friends, maybe a particular co-worker who might have known?"

She shrugged. "He sometimes stopped for a beer after work with some of them. At least that's what he said he was doing. The one who called the house when he didn't show up at work was Gary something. Is this really necessary? I thought it was a closed matter once they found his body."

"Unfortunately, one piece of evidence doesn't fit. Your husband was not only naked, with no clothes left in the apartment, he had ejaculated shortly before he was killed."

Teri gasped. "Impossible. Not Rico. Never with a man."

"Forgive me, Mrs. Gambini. I see I've sent you down the wrong path. Whoever your husband had sex with did not have black hair. The M.E. found a blonde pubic hair tangled with Mr. Gambini's."

Teri's jaw dropped before she could stop it. She felt a wave of dizziness as the blood rushed from her head.

Kidder immediately held out his hand, but he didn't quite touch her. "Are you all right, Mrs. Gambini? Do you know a blonde who might have been with your husband in that apartment?"

Her mind whirled with thoughts of blonde hair and seduction. But they were horrible, impossible thoughts and she sent them away with a shake of her head. "No. I... I was just shocked. There just doesn't seem to be an end to all this. I don't understand. I thought there was a witness who saw the guy who did it."

"Perhaps the hair belongs to someone who lured your husband there for the kill."

"You mean like a prostitute on the mob's payroll?"

Kidder almost smiled at that. "Maybe. I was thinking more like an accomplice." He watched her face for a moment then headed for the door. "If anyone comes to mind, you be sure to call me right away so that I can check it out. She could be the key to catching your husband's murderer."

Kidder had no doubt whatsoever that Teri Gambini already had a blonde in mind.

* * *

The weather Saturday morning was all wrong. Teri wanted it to rain—a lightning storm would have been even better—then maybe none of the curiosity seekers would have shown up.

She had no idea how it had happened, but the private graveside service had been turned into a three-ring circus. Rico's relatives behaved as she'd expected and feared. The semi-professional criers that attended every Sicilian funeral had shown up in force to sob loudly or faint whenever things got too quiet. But the usual strain of coping with Rico's family was made worse because Teri had refused to hold a wake, even if it had to be a closed casket. Even knowing she was breaking their rigid code of behavior and would probably be cursed for life, Teri could not push herself to sit in a flower-filled funeral parlor with all these people for three solid days.

Having somehow gotten news of how Rico was murdered and what the motive probably was, several reporters and photographers anxiously recorded every wail and teardrop for posterity. One television network had even sent a crew.

If she had to be there, she wanted Drew beside her, but he had convinced her yesterday that his presence at her side would be highly improper. He was here for her, in the crowd somewhere, but she had lost sight of him, and that upset her more than all the rest.

And Selena had worn that stupid red wig again. For some reason it was beginning to irritate the hell out of her. Unless Selena had guessed about the cameras and didn't want to be recognized, Teri could not understand why she would disguise herself.

To top it all off, Detective Kidder hovered along the fringes of the crowd. Watching. Waiting. But for what? This was hardly the place to question Rico's co-workers about his extracurricular sex life.

As he had suggested, it sounded like the killer used some blonde woman to lure Rico into the apartment. Drew had agreed with that assumption when she had told him about it later. She supposed the detective thought it would be easier to track down the woman than the man, especially now that they had a piece of evidence to match with her DNA.

And then there was the awful coincidence. She could not erase the picture of Selena and her laughing about getting rid of Rico, nor could she stop the breathily voiced words that kept playing over and over like a broken record in her head—

Seducing him should be a cinch.

Sex with me would probably kill him.

That's what best friends are for.

It was only a joke, she reminded herself for the zillionth time. Nothing to feel guilty about.

Like this funeral. Kidder wasn't the only one watching her—they all were. The audience was waiting for the star to act out her role as the grieving widow, and she couldn't do it. The family was going to string her up by her thumbs any minute.

As if Selena sensed her panic, she leaned over and whispered in her ear, while pushing something into her hand. "Tobacco. Put a bit in your eye.
Now."

Teri saw Kidder making his way toward her and she quickly did as Selena instructed.

By the time the priest led the final prayer, Teri's eyes were on fire, her face was streaked with genuine tears, and Kidder was standing next to Rico's mother. The last thing any of them needed today was a rude detective asking a lot of upsetting questions. Turning to one of Rico's sisters, Teri quickly requested that she help her round up the relatives and send them back to the house to save them from the press. Much to Teri's relief, the woman took charge without an argument.