Mad About You (14 page)

Kat felt James's gaze upon her, but she was too busy trying to look innocent to acknowledge him.

*****

On the other side of a two-way mirror, James sat with Kat's attorney and watched as she was led to a dingy upholstered chair, then connected to several monitors. Her face looked pinched, and her skin pale. He had a bad feeling about the test, primarily due to the fact that Kat herself had seemed less than enthusiastic each time the polygraph had been mentioned. Still, if she was innocent—and he believed her to be—then the results could help clear her name.

The polygraph machine hummed to life, its avenging needles sliding across the page in a carefree scribble. Kat's eyes widened and she looked terrified.

Val clucked. "Poor dear is nervous."

For her sake, James hoped apprehension was the only cause of her anxiety.

"Relax, Ms. McKray," the spectacled technician said woodenly. "I'll ask you a series of questions and you are to respond yes or no, is that clear?"

"Yes," she said, causing the needles to shimmy about a quarter inch, then level out.

"Is your name Katherine McKray?"

"Yes."

"Do you live at One Twenty-four Tangled Vine?"

"Yes."

"Is your birthday March third?"

"No."

"Have you ever been employed by Jellico's Gallery and Museum?"

"Yes."

James kept his eye on the polygraph, gratified that she seemed to be relaxing. She answered more mundane questions, then the man asked, "Did you steal the item known as the King George letter?"

"No."

"Were you born in the state of California?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever stolen an item from the gallery known as Jellico's?"

"No."

James watched the needles and pressed his lips together at their movement. The man progressed through a series of about six-dozen questions, of which twenty or so concerned the burglary. The dread in the pit of his stomach grew as the questions, reworded in every possible combination, became more pointed. Kat was visibly relieved when the man announced the test was over.

"How soon will they have a reading?" James asked Valmer, who had remained silent during the exam.

"They should call me with an opinion later this afternoon," the man replied, noticeably distracted. "I'll notify Kat immediately."

"Will she be allowed to take the test again?" James asked, looking the man directly in the eye.

Valmer stared, then sighed and nodded curtly. "I have to leave. Tell Katherine I'll be in touch."

She appeared a few moments later, and James gave her Val's message. "How did it go?" he asked, studying her face.

Fanning herself, she attempted a laugh. "I was so nervous, I could barely concentrate. I probably failed the damn thing."

James reached out with his finger and tipped her chin until her gaze met his. "This lovely face couldn't belong to a liar," he said softly.

Her shaky smile was not reassuring.

*****

"I'm not so sure about this," Kat murmured to James.

"If you're with us, she may be more inclined to talk," he said as they followed Tenner to Denise's apartment door.

She inhaled deeply and nodded. "Denise is a late riser, especially on the weekends," she offered nervously when Detective Tenner knocked for the third time.

It was after eleven o'clock and her stomach churned at the prospect of the impending conversation. For an instant, she hoped her friend was off having breakfast with her mystery man. Yet even though she didn't want to believe the worst, she had to concede that Denise did owe her the truth.

The truth. Kat nearly laughed aloud. She was a fine one to talk, after losing track of the fibs she'd told during the polygraph. Her only hope now was that someone else would be fingered for the crime. While she didn't relish the idea of visiting her best friend in jail, at the moment it ranked slightly higher than the prospect of returning there herself.

Denise was knotting the sash on her silk robe when she opened the door. Her friend smoothed a thin hand over her sleep-tousled hair, looked straight past Tenner brandishing a shiny ID badge, and narrowed on Kat, who lagged behind everyone else in the hall.

"Kat? Is everything okay? What's going on?"

Kat opened her mouth, hoping some kind of reasonable, non-accusatory explanation would emerge. But Tenner cut in, extending his arm against the door, as if he were afraid she would deny them access. "Ms. Womack, I need to ask you more questions about the night of the break-in at Jellico's Gallery."

The woman's delicate eyebrows furrowed, then she shrugged. "Sure. Come on in."

Kat hung back, watching as James allowed Officers Campbell and Raines to precede him. When he waved her forward, she shook her head. "I still don't buy it, James."

He nodded sympathetically. "Then perhaps your friend will recall a detail that will lead us in the right direction."

She brightened a little, then entered the messy living area of the apartment. If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn that Tenner's men had already searched the place. But Denise was not particular when it came to orderliness.

The rotund detective glanced around, then said, "Be advised, Ms. Womack, we have a search warrant for your apartment, and you may be considered a suspect in the burglary. Would you like to call an attorney?"

Kat's stomach rolled as Denise blanched. "Excuse me?" Wheeling toward Kat, Denise's eyes bulged. "Kat, what the hell is going on?"

"Denise—" Kat began, but Tenner cut her off.

"Ms. Womack, do you waive the right to have an attorney present?"

Her friend flushed red and looked him up and down, glaring. "I didn't have anything to do with the break-in, so why would I need an attorney?"

"So you do waive your right?" Tenner pressed.

Denise gestured impatiently. "Yeah, yeah, already. Get to the point."

"Okay," Tenner said smoothly. "Would you mind telling us about the thirty thousand dollars that appeared in your bank account yesterday?"

Denise crossed her arms over her chest in a protective gesture. "How," she squeaked, "did you get access to my financial records?"

"Just answer the question, ma’am."

Her gaze cut to Kat, who squirmed, embarrassed for her.

"A friend gave it to me," Denise said, then bent to rummage around on an end table, coming up with a crushed pack of cigarettes.

"In exchange for the letter?" Tenner asked bluntly.

"The King's letter?" Denise asked, her voice outraged. "Are you nuts?" She looked back to Kat, her ex
pression hurt. "Kat, do you think I had something to do with this?"

Tenner opened his mouth, but Kat silenced him with a stare, then walked over to her friend. "No, I don't," she said gently. "But if you want to help me and help yourself, just tell the detective what he wants to know. Did your new boyfriend give you the money for your condo?"

Her friend tossed down the pack of cigarettes with a curse, then turned tear-filled eyes toward her. "Yes. Is that so bad?"

"No," Kat assured her, laying a hand on her arm. "Just tell the police his name."

But Denise shook her head miserably. "I can't tell you—I can't tell anyone." A tear slipped down her pale cheek and she roughly brushed it away.

"So it
was
gained illegally," the detective said triumphantly.

"No," Denise snapped. "It was a gift."

"Oh." Tenner made a clicking sound with his cheek. "A Chinatown sugar daddy? You provide attention and he provides cash?"

Denise snorted. "You've been watching too much television, Tubby."

Tenner's face turned grim. "So who is it, Ms. Womack? You've got ten seconds to give me a name, or I'm placing you under arrest."

The color drained from her face. "You can't do that."

"It wouldn't be your first time in jail, now would it, Ms. Womack?"

Kat heard her inhale sharply, then she stiffened.

Tenner must have sensed her panic. "And we'll find whoever you entertained at Ms. McKray's apartment that night," he said, crossing his arms smugly. "You should have remembered to wipe the prints from the coffee cups."

Denise's shoulders started to shake and she held a fisted hand to her mouth.

"Denise," Kat admonished softly, "just tell us the truth."

Her friend nodded, her nose glowing from unshed tears. "Okay...okay." Denise inhaled, obviously gathering her strength. "The money was a gift from a lover to help me buy this miserable excuse for an apartment. H-Her name is G-Gloria Handelman."

Kat blinked, then looked at James. He nodded slightly, as if to acknowledge he remembered the woman's name from their earlier conversations.

"A woman?" Tenner croaked in his seemingly infinite capacity for insensitivity. "Who is this Gloria Handelman? The name sounds familiar."

"She worked at the gallery for a few months as an administrator," Kat volunteered, still stunned by Denise's revelation. "Her father is Morris Handelman, and most of the family members are serious collectors of historical documents."

"Not your everyday family hobby," the detective noted.

"Working at Jellico's was Gloria's first paying job, I think, and she only stayed long enough to find and acquire a half-dozen rare manuscripts through the gallery."

"Employee discount?" Tenner asked, popping his gum.

"No, but the job gave her access to the names of other private collectors, and she knew immediately when documents hit the market."

"Sounds like the primo job for a collector. Why did she quit?"

"I never knew," Kat replied. "But I do know that the Handelmans were to be one of our prime bidders for the King's letter—Gloria's mother wanted it, so Morris was determined to buy it for her."

The detective pulled out a yellowed pocket notebook and pencil stub. "So this Gloria Handelman is familiar with the gallery security?"

Kat glanced sadly at her friend. "Yes."

James stepped toward them. "Ms. Womack," he said gently, "was this Handelman woman the same person who had a cup of coffee with you at Kat's Friday night?"

Looking miserable, Denise nodded. "I guess it's pretty obvious why I lied about having company. But I called Gloria to chat and she wanted to come by to give me the check." She smiled sadly at Kat. "I was embarrassed and afraid you would disapprove."

Kat's heart squeezed and she patted her friend's hand.

"Ms. Womack," James continued, "did you see Ms. Handelman take anything from Ms. McKray's bedroom?"

"Absolutely not."

"Did you leave Ms. Handelman alone in the apartment?"

Denise shook her head, then stopped. "No, wait—I ran down to my car to get an art book I'd bought for her."

"Did she have a bag with her?" James pressed. "One large enough to conceal garments, such as a coat and hat she might have taken from Kat’s apartment?"

Her brow furrowed. "A black athletic bag—she said she'd just come from the gym and didn't want to risk having her racket stolen by leaving it in her car." Her scowl deepened. "But why would she have gone to so much trouble? Her family is richer than the Rockefellers—and the money her dad would have spent on the letter is a drop in the bucket to the Handelmans."

Tenner scribbled furiously. "What time did she leave?"

Denise sniffed, then squinted. "Around eight-thirty. I folded a load of towels after she left, then came back here."

"Were you alone all night?" Tenner asked.

"Yes," Denise said pointedly.

James cleared his throat. "Ms. McKray mentioned that you requested a private tour of the gallery several weeks ago."

Denise reddened. "Gloria talks about galleries and museums all the time—I just wanted to be able to converse with her, that's all." Her face crumpled with concern. "Are you going to drag her into all this?"

"Sorry, ma'am," Tenner said, sounding not the least bit sorry. "She'll have to answer some questions, same as you."

Kat felt Denise's hand on her arm. "Kat, I'm sorry I lied, but I honestly didn't think there was any connection to the break-in." She smiled, her eyes watery. "I'd hate to think that Gloria could have done such a thing, but I'd never knowingly withhold evidence that would take the heat off you."

Her heart expanded with affection for her friend. "Don't worry, Denise, everything will be fine." Kat gave her friend a long, rocking hug, during which Denise whispered, "So, are you in love or what?"

Kat pulled back and opened her mouth to protest, but for once, Denise's expression was void of teasing. She decided to be honest, especially since Denise had just bared her soul to an audience of virtual strangers. "I don't know," she murmured sincerely.

A smile bloomed on Denise's face. "Toldja you needed a man," she said in hushed tones.

*****

Tenner scratched himself indiscreetly. "The more we stir this pile, the more it stinks."

James stopped, a hamburger halfway to his mouth. The man had an uncanny sense of bad timing. He glanced sideways at Kat, who bit back a smile as she dipped a french fry in a mountain of catsup.

"The case is certainly more complicated than we first believed," James agreed.

"It's taking longer to get a search warrant for the Handelman woman's apartment." The detective rubbed his grubby thumb over his fingers in a gesture that said "money." "Looks like no one wants to step on their toes." He belched, excused himself, then added. "Another hour—maybe two."