Devil's Corner Page 11

  My God. Vicki’s stomach did a backflip. “That sounds like rage, as if it were personal, or maybe drug induced.”

  Dan added, “Like a crack addict.”

  “Was she found with any crack?” Vicki asked. “Had she used or what?”

  “We field-tested the pipe next to the bed, which was positive. Toxicology tests on the body aren’t finished yet.”

  “She’ll be positive.” Vicki thought a minute. “Where was my wallet?”

  “Still on the victim’s person, in a pocket in her dress. It was minus whatever credit cards and money you had.”

  “Reheema found the body and called the cops?”

  “Right.”

  “Who found the wallet, you or Reheema?”

  “The daughter.”

  “So Reheema knows that it was my wallet. She must have been surprised by that.”

  Detective Melvin nodded. “She was extremely angry. She demanded we question you, and I told her we were coming right here.”

  “She can’t think I killed her mother.”

  “I can’t speak for her, Ms. Allegretti.” Detective Melvin made a note. “Now, about this man who answered your cell phone. What’s your phone number?”

  Vicki gave it to him, and he wrote it down. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Reheema. Did she think Vicki murdered her mother?

  “And what type of phone was it?”

  “A Samsung, the newer model. It has one of those special covers, it’s silver and has blue daisies with little green centers on the front.”

  “Now that should be a crime.” Detective Melvin smiled, but Vicki couldn’t.

  “How will you run that down, detective? Look for the phone? Tap the line? You have enough for a warrant.”

  “Leave that to us. I’d ask you not to terminate the service, to help our efforts.”

  “Of course.”

  Detective Melvin flipped his notebook closed. “I understand that you have a personal interest in this case, but you have to leave matters to us. My partner and I have the highest clearance rate on the Homicide Division. We know what we’re doing.”

  “I respect the Philly police, I was an assistant district attorney.” Vicki decided to press her luck. “Though I did wonder why you hadn’t called Mrs. Bott, to talk to her about Shayla Jackson.”

  “We did call, but there was no answer and she didn’t have an answering machine. Then we understood she was going to ID the body at three yesterday, not noon. It was a simple misunderstanding.” Detective Melvin didn’t look happy about it, either. “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, Ms. Allegretti. Everybody thinks he’s a detective. You could have been hurt last night, if not killed.”

  Standing behind Detective Melvin, Chief Bale wasn’t saying anything. He didn’t have to.

  “But what about the drug activity on Cater? Is anybody going to do anything about it?”

  “Ms. Allegretti.” Detective Melvin frowned all the way to his shaved scalp. “As you well know, we have a Narcotics Division. That’s their job. I’ll make a point of notifying them of your observations of drug activity on Cater, and I’ll also notify the captain in charge of that district. I’m sure they’ll step up the patrols. If there is drug activity, they’ll deal with it. You can’t. In fact, Chief Bale has informed us that you’re on a one-week suspension.”

  “It is indefinite now,” Bale interjected, with a deep scowl. “That’s without pay.”

  No! “Chief—”

  “Don’t even, Allegretti.” Bale warned her off with a raised index finger.

  “Fine, Chief.”

  “I don’t need your permission,” Bale shot back, and in the next minute, his attention was redirected to the stairs. The two uniformed cops were coming downstairs, carrying the brown paper bags they used to collect evidence.

  “You found my suit?” Vicki asked, though the thought of her clothes in an evidence bag was tough to take.

  “Yes, thanks. Took the shoes, too.” The cops looked calm, so she assumed they hadn’t found a murder weapon. She didn’t want to think what her bedroom looked like.

  “You didn’t toss the place too bad, I hope.”

  “We improved it,” one of the cops said, with a smile. “Give us a chance to make a mess here, too, will ya?”

  “No problem,” Vicki answered, and everybody rose and stood as the cops split up and began to turn over cushions in the couch. In the meantime, Detective Melvin slid his notebook into his back pocket, as did the other detective.

  “Looks like we’re done here, for now,” he said. “Thanks for your cooperation. You know the drill. Don’t leave the jurisdiction.”

  “You have to be kidding,” Dan interjected, but Vicki touched his arm.

  “Understood, gentlemen.”

  Bale was leaving, too, shifting his topcoat higher onto his shoulders and heading for the door. “I have a meeting to go to. Call you later, Vick.” He glanced at Dan. “Malloy, put her under lock and key until further notice.”

  “Yeah, right,” Dan said, but he didn’t smile. He was watching the uniformed cops search Vicki’s books, sliding them out and looking behind each one. She went to the door and opened it to let Bale and the detectives out, but a wet chill blew into the room. It had started snowing lightly, and large, flat flakes floated from the gray sky. The Holloway kids reappeared at their front window, ogling the uniformed cops.

  “Thanks for coming,” Vicki said, shutting the door, and she and Dan stood uncomfortably aside as the cops searched her living room.

  “Almost finished, officers?” Dan asked, though they clearly weren’t, and Vicki felt touched by his loyalty. He stood by her side, staring the cops down until they had finished destroying her living room, when she ushered them out the door. It was snowing with flakes too wet to stick, but the Holloway kids were out in heavy coats and mismatched mittens, pinwheeling in the snowflakes and sticking out their tongues stiff as spatulas. Their mother, Jenny, was laughing with them, taking pictures with a disposable camera. The Holloways stopped when the cops filed out of Vicki’s front door and climbed into their respective squad cars, banged the doors closed, and started the cruisers’ powerful engines, spewing exhaust into the chill air. Vicki waved a don’t-worry-it’s-just-business, and in the next minute, the kids resumed their spinning, with their mother snapping happily away.

  Vicki watched them for a minute, then closed the door.

  Hatching a scheme to get rid of her boyfriend.

  EIGHTEEN

  Snow fell steadily, muffling the world with nature’s own insulation and filling Vicki’s small kitchen with soft, natural light. It would have been cozy if Dan weren’t somebody else’s husband and she didn’t have murder on her mind. She had to think of a way to kick him out without making him suspicious. “You sure you don’t have to get home?” she asked.

  “Nah, I want to help you clean up.”

  “I’ll clean later. I have some errands to do.”

  “I do, too. Let’s clean up and do them together.” Dan scooped coffee grains into the paper filter with a brown plastic measuring spoon. “First, we need coffee.”

  Argh.

  “It’s so ridiculous, them questioning you. I just can’t get over it.”

  “Let it go. They’re just doing their jobs.”

  “Clowns. Jokers. Keystone Kops.” Dan put the coffee back in the cabinet, then extracted the glass pitcher from the coffeemaker and filled it up with tap water. He had taken off his coat and was wearing his jeans with a blue crewneck sweater and no shirt underneath, which forced Vicki to imagine him naked. Finally she understood why men found bralessness sexy.

  “They’re not so bad,” she said idly, but Dan turned, incredulous.

  “A library card? Exhibit A?”

  Vicki couldn’t laugh. She still felt bad that Mrs. Bristow was dead, so horribly murdered.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I feel crappy, is all.”

  “Why?” Dan poured water into the top of t
he coffeemaker, put the empty pot in the machine, and switched the black knob to brew.

  “Because I was so naïve. Not only to go to Mrs. Bristow’s house, but to leave my wallet.” Vicki couldn’t stop shaking her head. “If I hadn’t been so dumb, she would be alive today. I’m screwing up so much lately and it’s killing people. Jesus.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “I gave her the money that bought her the rock that got her killed.” Vicki bit her lip. “It’s the urban version of the house that Jack built.”

  Dan snorted. “Gimme a break. You didn’t give her the money, she stole it. You didn’t buy her drugs, she did. She got herself killed, and you had nothing to do with it.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Vicki wished she could agree, but she didn’t. Why was everything going so wrong? First Morty and Jackson, now Mrs. Bristow. She rubbed her eyes, feeling sick inside.

  “Stop blaming yourself. You’re not to blame. By the way, sorry I blew you off last night.” Dan turned away and went into the cabinet to retrieve their two go-to mugs, Harvard and Elvis. He set them on the tile counter with a harder-than-usual clink, suddenly preoccupied. The coffee gurgled away, filling the kitchen with the aroma of brewing coffee.

  “No problem. I’m sorry I called. I thought Mariella was at work.”

  “She stopped home.”

  “That’s what I figured.” Vicki hated talking about Mariella. Snow drifted onto her windowsill in wispy cartoon scallops, but it didn’t lift her spirits the way it usually did. Looking up from the coffee mugs, Dan noticed it, too.

  “When did it start snowing?”

  “Not long ago.”

  “I didn’t realize.” Dan kept looking out the window, the reflected light illuminating his handsome features. His blue eyes drooped with morning fatigue, and reddish stubble dotted his chin. He frowned. “Snow is funny. You never know when it starts. It just sneaks up on you and there it is. Before you know it, you’re in a snowstorm.”

  “I guess.”

  “This is pretty terrible, what’s happening here.” Dan turned from the window, still frowning, but Vicki wasn’t sure what he meant.

  “That Mrs. Bristow was killed?”

  “No. You, on indefinite suspension.”

  Vicki blinked. “At least I’m not fired.”

  Dan didn’t say anything. The coffeepot gurgled, and he bent over to make sure it was dripping, without meeting her eye.

  “Well, I’m not, am I? If I were fired, Bale would have said I was.”

  “With the detectives there?”

  “Sure, that would make it more fun.”

  “Good point.” Dan laughed. “You’re right. Bale likes you. I think you’re his favorite.”

  Vicki smiled, mystified. “I thought you were.”

  “No. Strauss likes me, Bale likes you.”

  “But Strauss is Daddy and Bale is Mommy, so you win.”

  “It’s not a contest,” Dan shot back, and Vicki put up her hands.

  “Whoa, don’t shoot.”

  “Sorry, it’s not you. I didn’t sleep well, last night. We had a fight.”

  “Who?”

  “Mariella and me.”

  Suddenly Dan had Vicki’s full attention, especially being braless and all. But she knew she had to act as if she didn’t want to hear everything or she’d never get to hear anything. She reached for the coffeepot, interrupting its brewing cycle, and poured coffee into his Elvis mug. She said lightly, “Forget it. Don’t worry. This, too, shall pass.”

  “Not this one.” Dan accepted his mug and took a thoughtful sip. “This was a big, big fight.”

  “It’ll pass,” Vicki said, though the Malloy/Suarez family never had big fights. In fact, they rarely fought at all. They didn’t see each other enough to fight.

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “Sure you are.” Vicki poured coffee into her Harvard mug. The day she’d been admitted, her parents had bought three hundred of them. She tried to think of a new subject, which wasn’t hard. “How about that guy who answered my cell phone?”

  “You’d think the cops would wake up when they heard that. Instead they’re in your face. Jerks.”

  “They’ll get to it, in time.” Vicki waited and sipped. The coffee tasted good and hot. Snowflakes blew outside. The kitchen fell silent.

  “You wouldn’t believe what the fight was about,” Dan said, after a minute.

  “It doesn’t matter. The fight’s never about the fight, anyway.” Vicki knew this from her parents, two major love affairs, and Dr. Phil.

  “Mariella thinks we spend too much time together.”

  “Who?”

  “You and me.”

  “You and me, spend too much time together?” Vicki felt accused and convicted, both at once. His words had broken through some veneer. The fight was about them?

  “She accused me of having an affair with you.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  Vicki flushed. “But we’re not!”

  “Of course we’re not, but I can’t convince her of that. It’s not even the first time we’ve fought about it.”

  My God. “It isn’t?”

  “You look surprised.”

  “I am! I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Why would I? I didn’t want to, it’s between me and her. And I know it’s not true, so I don’t sweat it.” Dan shrugged. “But I can never make her believe me, and lately, it’s all coming to a head. It started when I caught her checking my BlackBerry, for e-mail from you.”

  “Really?” Vicki felt instantly guilty. “Well, we do e-mail.”

  “We’re allowed to.”

  “And we do spend a lot of time together. A whole lot.”

  “But we’re just friends.”

  Right. “Maybe we should cool it a little.”

  “I don’t see why.”

  “So she won’t be upset, or suspect you.” Vicki felt a wave of shame for secretly wanting him. He belonged to Mariella, and it was obvious now what should have been obvious all along. “Look, our friendship is undermining your marriage.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Dan, it is.”

  Dan frowned. “But she’s wrong to be upset!”

  “That doesn’t matter. Her feelings are her feelings. She’s your wife.”

  “And you’re my best friend.”

  “So, friends take breaks. Maybe we shouldn’t have lunch together, every damn day. In fact, I’m sick of you.” Vicki faked a smile. You and your bralessness.

  “No.” Dan set his mug down, and coffee sloshed around the side. “She’s not around anyway, and we’re just keeping each other company. She should trust me.”

  “Maybe she does, but she still doesn’t like it.” Vicki had to admit that Mariella wasn’t being unreasonable. “You two were in bed together when I called. She doesn’t like it; no woman would.”

  “I told you to call, and so what? Things are going crazy lately, with Morty being killed and now Bristow’s mother. She acts like that’s not happening. My God, it’s like I have this whole life she doesn’t know about!”

  “You have to be sensitive to her,” Vicki said, managing not to choke on the words.

  “Plus, she doesn’t know what it’s like to work in our office, to try to move up there.” Dan raised his voice, his tone sharpening. “She doesn’t know what it’s like to be on trial, day after day. Write motions at night. Meet with witnesses around a court schedule.”

  Nobody knows what that’s like, except another AUSA, Vicki thought, but would never say it, because it was way too true. People at work shared things that outsiders would never understand.

  “She doesn’t know what it was like to lose Morty. I worked with him for two years, had three cases with him. You saw him every day for a year, on Edwards. You knew him, and now he’s dead!” Dan’s voice broke, in pain. For Morty. For her. For himself. Vicki felt like hugging him but knew she couldn’t. It confuse
d her. She wanted him, but not this way, and she didn’t want to cause trouble for him.

  “Dan, calm down. Mariella just wants more of your time.”

  “I want more of hers!”

  Ouch. “Right. So you both want the same thing, and this will blow over.” Vicki set down her mug. “She’s at home now, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You left her to come over here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Smooth move, Malloy.”

  “I wanted to help you! You’re in the middle of a mess! You needed me!”

  Vicki’s cheeks got hot. A day ago, she would have loved hearing that. Now, it was a problem. “You helped me, and I appreciate it. But you should go home.”

  “I’m not supposed to be home, anyway. I’m supposed to go buy salt for the sidewalk, then pick up the dry cleaning.”

  “Then go home and ask her to go with you. Or take her to brunch.”

  “She’ll say she’s too tired. She’s been on call for three days.”

  “Then she’ll like that you asked.” Vicki waved good-bye. “Go. See ya.”

  “But what about Bale? He said he’d call you. And your house is a mess, from the cops.”

  “I’ll handle it. Sayonara.” Vicki put her hands on Dan’s strong shoulders, which felt painfully good, then turned him around and pushed him out of the kitchen, grabbing his coat on the way and handing it to him. “Here. Put a bra on and go home to your wife, who loves you.”

  “Huh?”

  But Vicki had already opened the door. She didn’t bother to explain and she ignored the hard knot in the middle of her chest. Doing the right thing was no fun at all. Her only consolation was that she was getting rid of any interference.

  So she could get busy.

  NINETEEN

  The snow was sticking, coming down heavily with more predicted, but Vicki wasn’t worried about the weather. The Cabrio was great in snow, the windshield wipers thumped energetically away, and she had bigger things on her mind. Devil’s Corner lay under a thin blanket of fresh snow, two inches so far, according to AccuWeather. Through the window she could see that Mrs. Bristow’s block was as deserted as it had been yesterday, except that the fresh snow covered the trash, debris, and filth she knew lay underneath. No children played out in front of the houses; no tongues caught snowflakes. There wasn’t a snowman in sight.