MARY CLARK - Every Breath You Take

He shook his head. “Trust me, I know Ginny was strong, because I trained her. No, if Anna was involved, she had help.”

“For example, her husband, Peter,” Ryan noted.

Ivan nodded. “And/or her brother, Carter.”

“Tell me about him,” Laurie said.

He shrugged. “He’s capable enough, but less serious and more spoiled than his sister. A bit of a playboy. He had a brief marriage in his early thirties, but it only lasted a couple of years. He told Ginny he didn’t think he would ever marry again. She was hoping he’d change his mind, but he seemed determined to remain uncommitted.”

“Can you think of any other possible suspects?” Laurie asked.

He remained silent. She could tell that he was torn about whether to speak up.

“We want our investigation to be thorough, Ivan. We don’t jump to conclusions.”

“You should probably talk to Penny, Ginny’s assistant. Penny Rawling.”

“She was at the Met that night?”

Ivan nodded. “Penny was chomping at the bit to go, but Ginny had not intended to invite her. Most socialites don’t include their assistants at that kind of event. Ginny was extremely generous to Penny. Too much so, in my opinion. Penny’s mother had been Bob’s longtime secretary at the firm. When she passed away as Penny was graduating from high school, Bob hired Penny to work for him and then, out of loyalty, Ginny took her on as her personal assistant after Bob died.”

“Why would Penny kill someone who was so generous to her?”

“I’m not saying she did. Like I said, I think it’s the kids. But Penny could be resentful. She had hoped to work her way up to a more substantial job at Wakeling Development, but it was fairly clear that the family saw her only as an assistant, and not a particularly good one at that. In my opinion, she was unreliable and constantly distracted. She often left early and came in late. Ginny was willing to overlook her shortcomings out of loyalty, but I don’t like to see kindness taken advantage of. I spoke to her multiple times about needing to develop a stronger work ethic.”

It was Ivan’s second reference to the importance of a “work ethic.” If Ivan was telling the truth, he may have had more influence on Ginny’s plans to change her will than he was acknowledging or even knew.

“If Penny hurt her, it’s because she thought I would fire her if we got married, cutting her out of the small inheritance she expected to get one day. It wasn’t much—seventy-five thousand dollars—but it was a lot to Penny.”

“Was Penny strong enough to throw Ginny from that roof?”

He shook his head. “Even weaker than Anna. The girl’s a twig. But the distractions I mentioned? She was constantly on the phone with some mystery boyfriend and seemed terribly concerned about her appearance at the gala, after lobbying so hard to attend. I got the impression her unknown suitor would be there. But she showed up with one of the older trustees whose husband couldn’t come.” Ivan’s voice became more husky. “Man, I hope it wasn’t Penny. I don’t want to believe I indirectly played a role in Ginny’s death by giving her a hard time.”

“Well, it sounds like you don’t really think Penny was involved.”

“No, I wouldn’t, except for one nagging fact. Penny, more than anyone, saw Ginny and me together. She saw that we had something real. Despite the difference in our backgrounds, we were deeply in love. We knew each other. Truly knew each other.” His gaze drifted away momentarily. It was the first time Laurie believed that this man was mourning Virginia Wakeling.

He blinked a few times before speaking again. “When the tabloids made me out to be a gold-digging monster, Penny never defended me. She threw me under the bus, saying I had asked Ginny to buy me that Porsche, which totally wasn’t true. I never have found an explanation for that. It makes me think she was trying to pin the blame on me, and why would she possibly do that?”

Laurie was now jotting notes in her pad at a frantic pace. She looked up to see Ryan staring at her. His face said, I told you so .

He had been right: this case was perfect.

• • •

As soon as they had walked Ivan to the elevator, Ryan looked to her for confirmation. “What next?”

“I try to get the family on board. And I talk to the folks at the Met. Those pieces have to fall into place for this to work.”

She expected him to invite himself along on both counts, but he simply nodded. She was the producer. He was the host. He had no official role to play until they moved into production.

As he turned toward his office, she said, “Ryan, it’s a good case.”

“Thanks. And you were right: going to Brett was a jerk move.”

It was nice to know they agreed on something.

Two phone calls later, she had a schedule that would please even Brett Young. The head of security at the museum could meet with her after lunch. And, much to her surprise, Anna Wakeling’s assistant scheduled her for an appointment the following morning.

12

That afternoon, Laurie was enjoying life in New York City again as she entered the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She remembered the first time her parents brought her here. They waited until she was in the first grade because they wanted to make sure that she would be able to appreciate it as a special place.

Her mother had held her hand and assured her that nothing bad would happen as she approached a mummy in its sarcophagus. She marveled at the suits of armor and mannequin horses in the Arms and Armor wing. She and her father had replicated the day with Timmy when he was the same age, pausing at the pool in the Temple of Dendur to toss in a coin and tell Laurie’s mom they wished she were there. As far as Laurie was concerned, this building was one of the most beautiful places in the world.

She was asking a security guard at the reception desk for Sean Duncan, the head of security, when a dark-haired man in a pin-striped suit approached. “That would be me. You must be Ms. Moran, right on time.”

“Call me Laurie.” He greeted her with a friendly handshake, but was otherwise formal in his mannerisms. She noticed that the uniformed security guard stood straighter in his boss’s presence. She guessed Duncan might be ex-military.

He led the way through the main hall toward the medieval sculpture garden. “My wife is a huge fan of your show. She’s loves everything crime-related. Am I allowed to tell her we met, or is this a top-secret visit?”

“Sure, but we haven’t made a decision yet. I’m just doing research at this point.”

“Got it.” When they arrived at an elevator, she noticed another security guard adjust his posture. “I figured we’d start with the scene of the crime.”

• • •

Laurie had only been to the Met roof when it was open for exhibits during the summer. Today, it was closed to the public. The roof was completely empty, providing a pin-quiet view over a snow-blanketed Central Park and the surrounding skyline.

“Wow, how do you not just live up here?”

“There’s a reason my office is just over there,” he said, gesturing through an adjacent window.

He walked to the west edge of the roof and pointed to a spot in the snow below. “She was found right there. We had snow on the ground then, too.”

Beyond a waist-high railing, the roof’s concrete ledge was thick, lined with low hedges. There was no way a fall could be accidental. A person would either have to jump or be thrown with a great deal of force.

“You were head of security at the time?”

“Second in charge. Got bumped up last year.”

“Congratulations. Did you know Mrs. Wakeling personally?”

“Only to say, ‘Hello, Mrs. Wakeling,’ when she was here. She seemed like a nice lady. The director adored her.”