F Wilson - Sibs

He shook it and seemed to fumble for his own name.

"Ed," he said finally, "Ed Bannion."

▼

"I met her at St. Vincent's," Ed was saying. "She took such special care of my mother when she had complications after her gallbladder surgery. I was very impressed with her."

They were seated near the window on the second floor of Pancho Villa's. Kara licked the salt off the rim of her margarita and watched the rush hour traffic thicken in the growing darkness outside. Jill was next to her, dipping tortilla chips into the bowl of salsa and listening to the strolling guitar player singing two tables away. Ed sat across from her, sipping his own margarita.

Now that they were inside and in the light, Kara saw that he was a fairly good looking man, late thirties, with thinning brown hair. He might have been more attractive if he weren't so tired looking. There were dark circles under his eyes; he seemed tense.

"You don't work at the hospital, then?" Kara said.

"Oh, no. Why do you ask?"

"I thought you might be a doctor."

"Actually, I'm a lawyer."

"How well did you know Kelly?"

"Not well at all, unfortunately. We had lunch together a few times. I liked her a lot." He shrugged. "It might have developed into something more, but…"

Kara nodded. But Kelly's time was cut short.

Ed said, "I sensed she was a very special person, but I know hardly anything about her. What can you tell me?"

Kara told him about Kelly's passion for mystery novels and 60's folk rock, how her favorite thing was to lie on her couch munching Dorito chips while reading John D. MacDonald and listening to the Byrds or the Lovin' Spoonful. She liked middle period van Gogh paintings and old Tracy and Hepburn movies. Jill added in her own anecdotes about her best times with her Aunt Kelly.

Ed listened attentively. If anything, he appeared puzzled, as if he wasn't hearing what he expected.

Then it was their turn for the strolling guitarist. He stepped up to their table and wanted to know if they had any requests. He was dressed as a caballero and wore a huge sombrero. Kara was about to say no when Jill piped up and asked for the only Mexican song she knew.

"La Bamba!" she said.

Kara and Ed listened politely while the singer ran through the song. He offered a more traditional rendition than the Richie Valens-Los Lobos version Jill was used to, but she seemed enthralled nonetheless.

During the song, Kara realized that this encounter was not going the way she had hoped. Ed knew less about Kelly's New York life than Kara did. The information was flowing the wrong way. But at the moment she didn't see a way out.

The three of them clapped when the guitarist finished. He added a nice accent to the restaurant's ambience, but Kara was glad to see him move on to another table.

"Can I go over and listen, Mom?" Jill said.

"Sure," Kara told her. "Just don't get in his way."

Ed smiled as he watched her go. "Looks like that singer has got himself a fan."

"Jill loves music," Kara said. "So did Kelly."

"What a shame," Ed said, shaking his head and staring down at the tablecloth. "I was so shocked when I read about her fall. So tragic."

"Fall?" Kara said. She glanced around to make sure Jill was out of ear shot. "Kelly didn't fall! She was pushed!"

Ed's head snapped up. His face was pale and his eyes were wide as he looked at her.

"No-no! She fell! It was an accident!"

Kara was surprised by his vehemence.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because," he said slowly in a calmer tone, although he still appeared upset, "I simply cannot believe that anyone would want to harm her."

"Neither can I," Kara said. It was a natural conclusion. Who would want to hurt Kelly? "But it's true. She was murdered."

"Oh, God!"

Ed ran a trembling hand across his face. He had gone another shade paler. He looked as if he was going to be sick.

It occurred to Kara that if the thought of Kelly being murdered upset him like this, he must have cared for her a lot more than he had let on. Obviously he knew nothing about Kelly's bizarre sexual behavior—and he wasn't going to learn of it from Kara.

"I'm sorry if I upset you," she said.

"No, it's all right. It's just such a shock. Do the police have any idea…?"

"Nothing," Kara said without trying to hide the bitterness that leapt into her voice. "They've got a description of two guys and a set of fingerprints, but no suspects."

"Are they… are they close?"

"Apparently not. And I'm afraid that if they don't find someone soon, they'll forget about Kelly. But I won't let them. I'm a very persistent person. I'll be on their backs. I won't let Kelly's file wind up on the bottom of their stack of unsolved murders."

"Good for you," Ed said, but his voice was flat.

He still appeared to be in a state of shock, but his color was better. He seemed to be pulling out of it.

Kara noticed that Jill was on her way back to the table.

"Let's change the subject, shall we?"

"Gladly," Ed said.

He paused, staring off into space, then seemed to come to a decision. He reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a card.

"Here's my number."

Kara recognized the mountain logo. "You work for Paramount?"

"I'm with their legal department. I do mostly corporate law now, but I can still help you with the police. I want you to keep me informed as to what's going on with your sister's case. Because if there are any problems, of if they start giving you the runaround, they'll start hearing from me as well."

Kara was touched.

"That's very nice of you. Kelly was lucky to have a friend like you."

"It's the least I can do."

▼

I'm certifiably insane, Ed Bannion thought as he rode across town in the back of a cab. He had dropped the woman and her daughter off at the dead sister's apartment and was now eager to get back to his own place on West 70th. Insane! That's the only explanation for what I did tonight!

He blamed it on the uncanny resemblance between the two sisters. For a moment there he'd actually thought the dead woman had come back to haunt him. He'd been so shook up he'd given her his real name. Idiot! After that, there was no turning back. Thank God he'd had the foresight to prepare a little story ahead of time. Never could have made up one on the spot.

And her talking about her dead sister as if she were all sweetness and light, Florence Nightingale herself. The little girl backed her up, too. Hard to believe they were talking about the sex kitten he'd had in the Plaza last week.

But maybe… maybe they weren't. Maybe they were talking about that frightened miserable woman he'd seen just before she ran for the window.

And then the sister—the live one, Kara—had dropped the bombshell: murder.

Murder!

He'd almost dropped his margarita! Even now it sent a sick shudder through him. How could they think it was murder? She went through that window entirely on her own!

Ed had sat there wanting to retch, wanting to get up and run from the restaurant. He'd seriously considered excusing himself to the men's room and not coming back. But he'd made himself stay calm while his mind raced, and had then come up with an idea. Only time would tell if it was the craftiest or stupidest act of his life.

His card.

If he could stay in touch with her, she could keep him abreast of where the police investigation was headed. He had to know. So far it sounded as if he and Phil were safe. Nothing to link either of them to the girl or to the Plaza. But they were hardly home free. And if something new turned up, he wanted to know. If the case was being downgraded to inactive, which he prayed it soon would be, he wanted to know that, too.

But then there was something else.

Ed found himself strangely attracted to this Kara Wade. She was beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. He felt oddly close to her. As if… as if he already had a relationship with her. Because of her sister, he felt as if he'd already made love to her.