Kay David: Safe In His Arms

“That’s good.” He ignored Sarah as effectively as Anise did, his own gaze steady and direct. “Because tomorrow might be too late. I need some answers tonight if I’m going to catch who did this.”

Sarah huffed her indignation. “You can’t be serious, Anise! You need to res—”

The investigator’s attitude was mellow but beneath it was a subtle strength impossible to dismiss. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Ms. Levy. I’m sure you understand why.”

“I don’t understand at all.” Sarah crossed her arms and stood her ground.

Anise felt Madelyn at her elbow. She introduced the older woman to Bishop, then watched as she took Sarah’s arm.

“We have to let the man do his work, Sarah. You come to my house. Anise can call us when they finish and we’ll come back.” She flashed Anise a look of sympathy. “We’ll spend the night with you, sweetheart.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Anise leaned over and kissed Sarah on the cheek, then did the same with Madelyn. “I’ll be fine. You two go on.”

Madelyn nodded but Sarah began to shake her head.

“Leave,” Anise said firmly. “I’ll call you after we finish.”

“You promise?” Sarah asked. “Cross your heart and hope to die? Stick a needle in your eye?”

Anise smiled at the childhood whimsy. How many times had she and Sarah made those pledges to each other? Too many to count, she was sure. She made an X over her chest. “I promise.”

Bishop stepped aside and held the door open. Sending him one last glare, Sarah walked past the cop and Madelyn followed.

“YOUR FRIENDS ARE very protective,” Bishop said as soon as the door closed behind the women. “How long have you known each other?”

“Forever.” Anise led him into her living room. “Would you like a cup of tea? We were having one when you came.”

A drink would have been better but he kept that to himself. “Tea would be nice,” he said. “Thank you.”

He followed her to the kitchen, taking in the small house as they went down a short hallway. He’d been surprised when he’d learned she lived in the Heights. The modest one-story bungalow was typical for the older neighborhood but he’d mentally put her in a classier, more expensive part of town. A lot of artist types were fond of the area, though, so it made sense.

The hall opened into a galley kitchen, a glass-topped table at one end in front of a wall of windows that revealed a well-tended backyard. She had lights at the base of all the trees. They threw spooky shadows everywhere.

“How long is forever?”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “A very long time. Sarah’s parents raised me after my mother died and I met Madelyn through the gallery when I was in my twenties. Sarah owns Levy’s Art Gallery downtown and she represents both of us.”

“Officer Carter told me you’re an artist.”

“That’s right.”

He expected her to elaborate but she didn’t so he said nothing more. There would be time for that later. The answers he didn’t get usually told him more than the ones he got, regardless.

“You have a nice place here.” Turning to the window, he watched her reflection in the glass. She moved with grace as she filled the kettle and gathered the tea supplies. “It’s very comfortable. The Heights is getting popular. Prices are rising.”

“I bought it ten years ago.”

“Was that before you got married?”

As if suddenly remembering why he was there, she stopped and stared at him. “Yes. Kenneth moved in with me. He was in a condo at the time and he sold it.” She paused. “His ex got the big house.”

Bishop gave her a one-sided smile. “From what I understand that happens a lot. At least that’s what my ex told me when it came time to divide up the spoils.”

Anise Borden returned Bishop’s smile but the expression faded quickly. “I need to call her,” she said. “Kenneth’s ex-wife, I mean. You haven’t talked to her, have you?”

“Didn’t even know he had one. I’ll need her contact information, though, along with a list of anyone else you might think of who could add something to the investigation. If you’d like to phone her first, that’s fine.”

“Her name is Donna Capanna.” She gave him her address and number. “They have a daughter named Brittany. She’s sixteen. I’m not their favorite person but it would probably be better to hear the news from me rather than the television.”

“This could be obvious but humor me…why aren’t you their favorite person?”

“Donna thinks I stole Kenneth from her.”

“Did you?”

“They’d been divorced for two years when Kenneth and I started dating.”

“I guess she wasn’t ready to turn loose, eh? Especially since she kept his name?”

“You could say that.”

“Would you say that?”

Her eyes were emotionless as she considered the question. “Donna’s a very bitter, unhappy woman. It was easier for her to blame me than to examine their relationship.”

“Was she unhappy enough to kill him?”

The candor of his question took her by surprise, which is exactly why he asked it. Her hand snaked up to the lapels of her robe. She hesitated then answered. “I don’t think so…but who can say for sure? I have to admit I wondered if that was her on the phone.”

“Did the voice sound like hers?”

“I can’t say for sure.”

“Is she capable of being violent?”

“Maybe. When it comes to money.” The teakettle behind her began to whistle and she jumped. Filling two mugs with hot water, she added tea bags, then brought the cups to the table. Bishop pulled out the chair closest to her and sat down himself.

“Did Mr. Capanna and his ex-wife argue over their finances?”

“Constantly. She wanted more of it and he didn’t have it.”

Bishop cocked his head. “I thought you said he was an attorney?”

“He is…or was.” She bit her bottom lip then released it. “But money wasn’t something Kenneth handled well. He never had enough of it.”

“Why is that?”

“For the same reason most people can’t, I suppose. He liked to spend it more than he liked to make it.”

“And the former Mrs. Capanna shared this problem?”

“No. Her family has plenty of money and her parents have always been very generous with her. She liked to use Kenneth’s financial situation against him, though. It was a big stick and she could hammer him with it. He told me tonight that she’d just asked him for more to put into Brittany’s college fund. He wasn’t happy about that.”

“He didn’t want his daughter to go to college?”

“He didn’t think she could make it.” She explained the girl’s troubled background then said, “Brittany’s had a bad go of it but I don’t see her shooting her father. Underneath it all, she loves him.”

“What about you?” he asked. “Did you love him, too?”

Her expression didn’t change. “We were separated. The divorce papers are in my purse. That’s the only reason we were together tonight—we met at the bar so Kenneth could sign everything.”

He processed the information slowly, her reaction at the crime scene, or lack thereof, making more sense than it had before. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

“I guess I don’t understand, then.”

“What’s not to understand?”

He pulled a spiral notebook from his jacket and thumbed through the pages as if he was looking for something. In reality he was giving himself some time to think. A pending divorce had been the last thing he’d expected but he couldn’t say why. Maybe Anise Borden’s elegance had gotten to him. The longer he sat in front of her, the more impressive it had become. He couldn’t imagine a guy who wouldn’t want a woman like her on his arm.