Kyra Davis - Passion, Betrayal And Killer Highlights

“But once the police start investigating, they’ll see it wasn’t me. There’s no evidence that could say otherwise because I really am innocent.”

“Wake up, Leah. Innocent people go to jail all the time on bogus charges. It was barely a month ago that Anatoly was charged with assault and murder.”

“But that’s because you set him up, Sophie. You invited him up to your place, kicked a few chairs over or something and then called 911.”

“Okay, forget about that. How many times in the past couple of years have forensic scientists used old DNA evidence to prove that some of the people who have served time for various crimes were actually innocent? While researching Words To Die By, I found out that Ray Krone was in prison for ten years before DNA evidence proved him innocent. What about the cases when DNA evidence isn’t available? Do you think the courts get all those right? You need to look at this realistically and prepare to fight the accusations that are going to come your way.”

In one fluid movement Leah picked up an empty coffee mug and threw it across the room. It exploded against my cabinet door in a burst of ceramic. “I didn’t do it!”

I stood motionless, looking at the remnants of the cup. I had a long history of throwing things, but that’s because I have no self-control. Leah, on the other hand, had always managed to be on the verge of a breakdown without ever actually having one—until now.

Her action must have surprised her, as well, because she had become completely still. Then she slumped against the counter. “I know it looks bad, but I honestly never wished him dead. I wanted the chance to make it work. Why wasn’t I given that, Sophie? Why would anyone do this?” She slid down to the floor, buried her face in her hands and cried.

I reluctantly crept forward and sat down beside her, careful not to get shards of ceramic stuck in my butt. I understood where Leah was coming from. I’m not sure she valued Bob the individual all that much, but she did value their union and the life they had made together. Her choices were not ones that I would ever have made for myself, though they apparently worked for her. But Bob’s extramarital affair had not been one of her choices, nor had his murder. At least I hoped it hadn’t been. Now, after spending years perfecting her role as Mrs. Bob Miller, she was forced to redefine herself, and she had no clue how to do it.

I put my arm around her shoulders. “I’ll ask Mary Ann about the black,” I said, referring to my friend who worked at Neiman Marcus. “She’ll know what you should wear.”

Leah choked back a sob.

“Do you want to cover the mirrors?” I asked.

Leah lifted her tear-stained face. “Cover the mirrors? Bob would have hated that. He wasn’t even Jewish.”

“Look, God’s got Bob covered, so now we’ve got to do what’s necessary to get you through this. The rabbis wrote out some pretty clear instructions on what we Jews are supposed to do when we lose a family member, and you need guidance, soooo…”

Leah nodded and chewed on her lip. “I guess it’s not such a bad idea, but do you think…perhaps just for this morning…?”

“You want to wait until you’ve finished with your makeup and hair.”

“Am I completely shallow and horrible?”

“Maybe, but if so, it’s hereditary, because there’s no way that I’m going to go through the day without my undereye concealer.”

Leah rested her head against my shoulder, which required some contortionist moves on her part, but the gesture was irresistibly sweet. “If you ever try to remind me that I said this I’ll deny it, but honestly—I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’re never going to have to find out,” I said, then reached forward and patted her knee. “And you can count on me reminding you.”

If anybody else had lost her husband I would have had the courtesy to let them shower before me. But it was an undisputed fact that Leah’s particular bathing rituals were the primary reason for California’s water shortage, so I made it a point to sneak in first. When I had finished making myself beautiful, I searched the apartment for something appropriate to cover the mirrors with. It took about five minutes for me to figure out that I had nothing. My downstairs neighbor Nancy sewed. She’d probably have some spare fabric. But there were so many things I’d rather do than ask her for a favor—like go snorkeling in a tanker full of plutonium.

I heard Leah turn off the shower. She’d be done in forty-five minutes max. I had promised her I’d cover the mirrors and I didn’t want to renege on that, especially since it was the only thing that seemed to perk her up. I opened one of my dresser drawers for the eighth time and glared at its contents. Of course there was nothing of use in there. Gym clothes, bathing suits and…

My hand reached in and pulled out the first of my many sarongs that I had collected over time to use as bathing suit covers and skirts during the years that it was fashionable. I shook it out and held it up to the full-length mirror fastened to the closet door. It was the right length. I had seven sarongs and five mirrors. Perfect. I hurried around the apartment hanging up my exotic mourning sheaths. By the time Leah was done I was waiting outside the bathroom holding the sarong I intended to hang in there. Leah opened the door and looked at it questioningly.

“Are you going on a cruise?”

“These are for the mirrors. I didn’t have any black cloth.”

“Are you kidding? It’s going to look like we’re holding a luau.”

“A very somber luau.”

Leah shook her head. “Sophie.”

“I put the black one with the purple and turquoise fish in the living room.”

“I gave that to you when you got accepted into USF! I can’t believe you still have it!”

“I take it with me on every beach vacation.”

“Well, I guess it’s okay. After all, you’re putting the red one in the bathroom and the one I gave you is predominantly black….”

“And if you’ll recall, the fish on it are wearing very serious expressions.”

“Bob loved fish.” And that was it—Leah was in tears again.

I hugged her and tried to conjure up some fond memories of Bob ordering halibut. I wanted to feel more sad about this, if for no other reason than to prove to myself that I wasn’t a sociopath, but my main emotion at the moment was relief. If Leah could just have another breakdown over Bob’s eating habits in front of the police, that might sway their opinions in the right direction. Leah wiped her tears and tried to smooth a crease in a skirt that I had lent her. I slipped past her and covered the last mirror. I heard Leah gasp in what I took to be horror as I pushed in the last thumbtack. “Oh, come on, Leah, it’s a mellow red.”

“It’s not the sarong—I just remembered what I forgot.”

“Which is?”

“Mama.”

“Shit!” I locked eyes with Leah. If Mama came for a visit and discovered a tube of Monistat 7 in the bathroom drawer you could count on her demanding to know why the offending offspring hadn’t called her the minute she felt an itch. Forgetting to call to let her know her son-in-law was murdered was not going to go over well. I glanced at my watch. “She must not have watched the morning news or she would have called by now—”

The phone rang. Leah looked like she had just swallowed her tongue and I felt the threat of a migraine.

“It could be a reporter looking for a quote,” I said.

“Do you have caller ID?”

“No, but I’m going to get it any day now.”

“How helpful.”

Leah and I walked over to the phone and stared at it as it rang for the fourth time. I decided to live dangerously and pick it up right before the answering machine did it for me. “Hel—”