Passion, Betrayal and Killer Highlights (19 page)

“And so you naturally assumed that you would fix things for her by dressing her up like a femme fatale.”

“Hey, she’s in a better mood now than she was this morning.”

I shook my head. “Listen, Dena, it’s all well and good that you want to give Leah an emotional lift, but next time just buy her a dildo and call it a night, okay?”

Dena grinned. “I just got a new one in stock yesterday. It’s called the Diamond Daddy and it—”

“I’d go for a basic model to start her off.” I shoved her gently toward the stairs. “I’ll call you later.”

I returned to the apartment to see Leah lifting up the corner of a sarong to check out her new do in the mirror.

“Leah, you know we’re going to have to dye your hair back to brown, right?”

Leah turned to me with a vexed expression. “Everywhere we went today I got compliments. Compliments on my hair, Sophie. I don’t think that’s happened to me since I spent three hours getting it pressed for the senior prom.”

“Leah—”

“This image works for me, and I have always been a believer in sticking to what works.”

“If the D.A. gets a picture of you looking like this just three days after your husband’s death you’ll be handed a life sentence before you can say Versace.”

“So what do you suggest I do, hmm? Should I behave the way everyone expects me to?”

I took a small step back. “Is this a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, it is, because the answer is blatantly obvious. We may not have a lot in common, but we’re both educated intelligent women and we both know that the definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over again while expecting to get different results each time. I was the perfect wife to Bob. I did what was expected of me—and you know what I got for my troubles? To quote your friend Dena, I got ‘fucked royally,’ and not in a good way, Sophie.”

“Okay, I think you need to take a deep breath—”

“Do not patronize me! I am not a five-year-old having a temper tantrum, I am a twenty-eight-year-old having a nervous breakdown!”

“I’m not trying to be patronizing, Leah, I just think we need to back up and approach this conversation in a calm, rational manner. Can I get you something? A glass of water, some Zoloft maybe?”

For a second Leah didn’t move, then her shoulders slumped and I watched as all her anger was visibly washed away by a sudden wave of exhaustion. She sank down onto the couch.

“My whole world is falling apart.”

I sat down next to her and leaned my forearms onto my knees as I studied the floor. “So, we’ll just have to put it back together again.”

For a few minutes the only sound to be heard was Mr. Katz’s snoring and Leah’s jagged breathing. She leaned over and got herself a Kleenex from the end table. “What is she like, Sophie?”

I didn’t look up. “What is who like?”

“You know who I’m talking about. Is she…pretty?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. Of course she was talking about Bianca, since she still didn’t know about Taylor. “I guess she’s kind of pretty,” I hedged, “in a very conventional kind of way.”

Leah nodded. “The girl next door. Bob always liked that look.”

“Leah, you’re every bit as attractive as she is.”

“
Please
. I’m ten pounds overweight, Marcus had to slave over my hair in order to make it look like this, and I don’t remember there ever being a time in my life when I didn’t have a blemish on my face somewhere.” She bit her fingernail. “No wonder Bob was unhappy with me.”

“I don’t think Bob strayed because you got a pimple, however—” I took a deep breath “—maybe the reason Bob wasn’t happy at home had something to do with the fact that you weren’t happy, either. I mean, I used to think you were at least happy with your life overall, if not with your husband specifically. Now I’m beginning to think that was denial on my part. I just couldn’t stand the idea that you would settle for a life that would make you miserable. But that’s exactly what you did, isn’t it?”

“I think
miserable
is a little harsh. I was
almost
happy. I honestly tried to be.” Leah leaned back into the couch. “The funny thing is that I thought things were getting better. You didn’t spend much time with Bob these past two years. Neither did I, for that matter, but the time I did spend with him was…different. He was different.”

“How so?”

She rotated her wedding band on her finger. “I could never quite put my finger on it. He was more confident, more generous, more…well, just more everything.”

“What brought that on?” I asked, although my thoughts immediately turned to the other women in his life.

“I don’t know.” Leah got a faraway look in her eyes. “For a while I was stupid enough to think that it had something to do with me. I had enrolled in this cooking class and had taken to throwing these wonderful dinner parties for him and his colleagues, and I thought that maybe I had finally become the wife that we both wanted me to be. I wanted that so badly. That’s why I didn’t argue when he asked me not to wear the plum sweater with the V-neck or cut my hair short—I was trying to mold myself to fit a certain image. I wanted to be the kind of polished and genteel homemaker that you see featured in
Better Homes and Gardens.
But no matter what I did or didn’t do I could never quite pull it off.”

I pulled my hair back from my face. “You shouldn’t have to
mold
yourself at all. You need to figure out who you already are and stick with that.”

“And who would that be? Because according to you, vamp is unacceptable.” She held up her leg so that her stiletto heel was proudly displayed in the air.

“Trust me, the vamp thing isn’t a good look to play with right now,” I said.

She sighed and lowered her leg. “Maybe I should be a political activist. I could champion the minority cause. There seem to be a lot of people out there who want me to do that.”

“You’re a registered Republican who listens to Neil Diamond CDs. You’re not going to make it as a Black Activist.”

“How about a convict, then?” She turned to me and I noted how pale she had become. “Detective Lorenzo thinks I’m guilty, Sophie. I can tell by the way he looks at me. And the tone of his voice…” Her voice trailed off and she averted her eyes. “It’s just a matter of time before he issues a warrant for my arrest.”

I swallowed, hard. “All we have to do is show reasonable doubt. You’re not going to prison for this. I won’t let that happen.”

“I see. And who died and made you God?” But her tone lacked the venom necessary to make her words biting. “I was so quick to hand Jack over to Mama, but now that I think about it I might have been too hasty. My time with my son might be limited.”

“Leah…”

“So why shouldn’t I wear a leather skirt and a belly-button ring? It’s not like anything I wear will change the inevitable. At least this way I can be known as the woman who was fashionable in the face of adversity.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Is that what this is?” I stood up and made a sweeping gesture that encompassed her whole outfit. “The early signs of defeat? You couldn’t just start wearing sweatpants like everyone else?”

“I’m not being a defeatist, I’m being a realist. Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

“No, I’m not, because you’re not saying anything useful.” I bent forward so I was in her face. “You say you love your son, but look at you!”

“What are you talking about? I love Jack more than life itself!”

“Then fight for him! Don’t just put on a pair of fuck-me pumps and roll over! Lorenzo thinks you’re guilty. So what? We’re the ones with the truth on our side. That and a bottle of Miss Clairol will get you a hung jury to call your own. Now drop the martyr bullshit and find some goddamn flats!”

Leah gawked at me, seemingly unable to move. Finally, she cleared her throat and shifted slightly in her seat. “You don’t seriously expect me to dye my hair with some drugstore product, do you?”

CHAPTER 9

“She’s always been a micromanager,” Daniel said as he watched the police read Melina her rights. “It just goes to show, the devil really is in the details.”

—
Words To Die By

I
think Leah finally heard me. After a few minutes more of discussion we reached a compromise. Since the sex-kitten stuff seemed to boost her self-esteem, she would wear it at home while sitting shivah. However, if she actually had to leave the apartment she would make a point of looking conservative and downtrodden.

After we had all that settled, I took off. I went to Starbucks for a Frappuccino and then drove around the city for a good hour. I finally ended up in Forest Hills, and despite my promise to Anatoly, I parked across the street from Leah’s house. Of course I told myself that I was just staking the place out and that I wouldn’t actually go inside, but deep down I knew that wasn’t my plan. The house was completely dark, and after fifteen minutes of no activity I got out of my car and went in. I entered the living room first, half expecting that the cushions would be off the sofa again, but everything seemed to be in its place.

I considered searching the room but quickly scratched the idea. When Dena, Leah and I had arrived, the intruder had already worked his way upstairs, so if there was any room in the house that he had not had a chance to search it would probably be up there. I dropped my purse on the coffee table and climbed the stairs, making a point to turn on every light I came across. I wanted to make it clear to any potential burglars who might be scoping the place out that now was not a good time to break in. Of course, my plan had a few holes in it. First, unlike the burglar, I didn’t know what I was looking for. Second, whatever the mystery item was, there was a good chance that the police already had it tucked away in some evidence room. But I was feeling extremely antsy and more than a little desperate, so I had to do something, and looking for a floppy was as productive an activity as anything else I could do.

I started with the guest room. Someone obviously thought that the desired disk was worthy of being hidden in the couch, so why not under a mattress? But after twenty minutes of meticulous searching, I had come up with nothing. My next stop was Jack’s room. I turned on the light and scanned the pastel-painted walls.

And that’s when I heard the front door to the house open and shut.

I now know what it means to have your blood turn to ice. For a moment I couldn’t move. The floorboards creaked under heavy footfalls.

Okay, breathe, Sophie. Breathe and think.
Maybe whoever was downstairs would stay there. My cell was in my purse downstairs so I was going to have to sneak into Leah’s bedroom and call the police from there. They would come save me and arrest the real murderer all in one fell swoop.

The footsteps started up the stairs.

Okay, time for plan B. I quickly tiptoed across Jack’s bedroom and closed his door. My fingers lingered on the doorknob in hopes of finding some kind of lock, but there was none. Okay, not a problem, I would just block the door with a piece of furniture. I went over to the dresser and tried to push it. It was attached to the wall with some kind of metal thingy. I stepped back and eyed the small bookcase filled with Jack’s clothes and books. It took all of two seconds to determine that the bookcase had been attached to the wall as well. If there was an earthquake, this is the room you’d want to be in. However, it wasn’t the best place for those who wanted to hide from murderers.

The footsteps reached the top of the stairs, then stopped. I needed something to defend myself with. I scanned the room for something heavy or sharp. Nothing. If it wasn’t plush, plastic or nailed to the wall, it wasn’t in the room. Even the electric outlets were covered by plastic gizmos.

I heard the door to Leah’s room squeak as it was pushed open.

Okay, plan C
—
escape. I went to the window and tried to open it—it wouldn’t budge. Something was keeping the window from moving. I stepped back and examined it. There was a large plastic thing attached to the window. The words Baby Safe were written across it in big pink bubble-letters. I tried not to hyperventilate. I was going to be the first person to die as a result of an overly baby-proofed room.

The footsteps were now moving down the hall. There was no more time. My eyes focused on the only launchable non-pillow-like item within reach—a Diaper Genie—and I picked it up and waited for the intruder.

The second the door swung open I used all my strength to hurl the object at my would-be attacker. The Diaper Genie smashed against the threshold and a string of foul-smelling but very neatly wrapped diapers came spiraling out of the plastic contraption and onto the floor.

My terror slowly morphed into embarrassment as I met the eyes of Anatoly.

“Well,” he said slowly, “this is another first for me.”

I strode over to him and whacked him on the chest. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me? I thought the murderer was coming up here to kill me!”

“Not an unrealistic fear, which is why I told you not to come here.”

“Yeah, well…” I tried to think of a good argument but quickly gave up. “Fine, I shouldn’t have come by myself, but look—” I pointed to the evidence of Jack’s regularity “—I think I did prove that I can be resourceful under pressure. If you were a bad guy and someone started throwing dirty diapers at you, wouldn’t you run?”

“I’m thinking about running right now.”

A smile threatened the corners of my mouth and I turned my back on him to conceal it. “What are you doing here, anyway? And why didn’t you call me after you spoke with the police?”

“I called your place and Leah told me you were out, and since you love to take unnecessary chances with your life, I thought I’d try here first.” I turned to see him take a step backward into the hallway as he covered his nose with one hand. “Can we continue this conversation downstairs?”

“You’re such a wimp,” I said, despite the fact that I, too, was dying to escape the pungent odor. I gingerly stepped over the diapers and followed him downstairs. I would have to clean up before going home but that was a job worth procrastinating.