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  Dalton sighed as though he’d expected that response. “Murderers kill because they’re upset. What did he tell you?”

  “Probably the same things he reported to you.” She strolled to a bookshelf and picked up a toy police car from a collection of miniature vehicles. Dust coated its surface, making her wonder who cleaned his office. “Stan woke up around seven, went downstairs, found his wife stabbed to death in the front hallway. He tried to revive her, got blood on his hands, and stumbled into the kitchen to call the police.”

  Dalton snorted. “Don’t you find it hard to believe he heard nothing while his wife was attacked?”

  Marla faced him, refusing to be intimidated by the stubborn thrust to his jaw. Tall and imposing in a sport coat and tie, he wore an authoritative air that fit as tautly as his jacket. “Not if Kimberly had let someone she knew into the house. Since the door was unlocked, that seems logical.”

  “Have you considered that Stan is playing upon your sympathies, and through you, he hopes to throw me off track?”

  Marla smirked at the absurdity of the notion that Dalton could be distracted. “Once you get a case, you’re like a bloodhound running after the scent of fresh meat. You aren’t put off so easily. He’s afraid, Dalton. The evidence looks bad against him, and Stan knows it. He wouldn’t have asked for my help otherwise.”

  She returned the miniature car to the shelf. “If you brought Stan in this morning, why did it take so long for him to call me? I didn’t hear from him until three o’clock. He’s lucky I was home; Monday is normally my day to run errands.”

  “Processing a crime scene takes time, and so does questioning a suspect. His attorney didn’t make it easy for us.”

  She noted the gleam in his eyes. “I’ll bet you enjoyed interrogating him.”

  “The man hasn’t treated you well. I did him a favor by letting you into the cell block.”

  “No, you didn’t. You were hoping I’d learn something new. Stan believes one of Kimberly’s relatives might have bumped her off to inherit her share of the family fortune. You’ll be speaking to them, I presume.”

  “I’ll question anyone associated with the deceased. That’s my job, remember? Not yours. What did Kaufman want you for, honey?”

  Marla was taken aback by his use of an endearment, mostly because she felt he meant it. An answer tumbled from her lips. “He wants me to find Kim’s killer.” She stopped short of blurting out the rest of Stan’s scheme. “What about friends and neighbors? I don’t know much about their life together.”

  He crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t either, not yet. I’ll attend the funeral to see who shows up.”

  “I suppose you’ll canvas the area to see if any of the neighbors noticed strangers in the vicinity.”

  “I know my duties, thanks. Why do I have the feeling you’ve got something up your sleeve? You’ve given me that same look before, and I don’t like it.”

  Uncomfortable from standing in one place for so long, Marla crossed the room to lean on his desk. “I owe him, Dalton. I don’t expect you to understand, but I feel an obligation to the man. He was there for me when I needed him, and now it’s his turn.”

  Dalton scrubbed a hand over his face. “I can see he has you wrapped around his little finger like ribbon on a package. Well, I need you, too.” He lowered his arm and glared at her. “Brie’s thirteenth birthday is in March. When are you going to help plan her party like you promised?”

  “Um, I’ve been meaning to check into various places around town. Did your daughter mention how many kids will be coming?”

  “The list tops thirty and keeps growing. A lot of her friends are having fancy affairs for their Bat Mitzvahs, so Brie wants to do something different. In the meantime, next week is your birthday. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty that night. We’ll meet Arnie and Jill at the restaurant.” His voice lowered. “February fourteenth is Valentine’s Day. That makes it special for us.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be thirty-five. Another year older.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh? Tell me more.”

  “You’ll see when the time comes.”

  Marla swallowed past a lump in her throat. Going undercover to investigate Kim’s death beckoned as a more appealing option than dealing with Dalton’s hints. If her intuition was right, she wasn’t the only one with something up her sleeve.

  “Stan wouldn’t look so spiffy in prison garb,” she said, to change the subject. “I’d hate to see him convicted if he’s innocent, so I hope you’ll keep an open mind where he’s concerned. I assume you’re planning to keep me informed about your progress on the case.”

  “That depends.”

  She could swear his tightened lips were stifling a smile. “On what?”

  “On my progress with you, sweetcakes.”

  Chapter Two

  Marla decided to visit Leah Kaufman before the police interviewed her. She wanted to assess the woman’s reaction to the news of Kim’s death, and this afternoon held no other plans except for completing chores. Thus when Marla exited the police station, she steered her white Toyota Camry toward Coral Springs, where Leah lived.

  Fifteen minutes later, Marla glanced at the address she’d obtained from Stan. The turnoff for Leah’s residential development was just before Wiles Road, and she’d gone too far. When she finally arrived at the correct house number, her heart quickened. A brick red Chevrolet Lumina sat in the driveway. Somebody must be home.

  She emerged into the cool February air, wishing she’d brought a jacket to wear over her olive cashmere sweater and khaki pants. A cold spell had lowered temperatures into the fifties. Her lips pursed as she strode the short distance to Leah’s front door. While she liked the seasonal change in wardrobe, her body preferred warmer climates. Winters where the thermostat stayed around seventy degrees, as they often did in South Florida, were preferable. Under those conditions, she enjoyed balmy sea breezes while northerners endured arctic blasts and blizzards.

  A single step brought her to the front door, adorned with a half-moon crystalline glass insert guarded by cobwebs. The white ranch-style house had midnight blue shutters that matched the door of a two-car garage. Landscaping consisted of ixora hedges with bright crimson blossoms.

  Red, white, and blue—how patriotic.

  She rang the doorbell, shifting her handbag to the other shoulder. Although she’d met Leah a couple of times, this was her first visit to the woman’s house.

  “Who’s there?” cried a female voice from inside.

  “Marla Shore.” In case Leah didn’t remember her, she added, “I want to talk to you about Stanley.”

  Leah swung the door open. Her charcoal eyes regarded Marla with surprise. “Hey, there. I suppose you’d better come inside. We’re letting the cold air into the house.” Leah patted the apron she wore over a shift dress. Exhaustion showed in dark circles marring her pale complexion.

  You could use a deep-conditioning treatment, Marla thought, observing Leah’s limp layers of short auburn hair. She stepped gingerly around a tricycle parked in the front hallway, while shrieks of children’s laughter rang in the background. “Am I interrupting your dinner preparations?” she asked, sniffing the spicy aroma of spaghetti sauce.

  “The pot is simmering. What’s this all about?”

  Marla faced her. Nearly an inch and a half taller, she was dismayed to feel their difference in height was more due to Leah’s slumped posture and dejected manner than to skeletal structure. Oh joy, wait until she hears what I have to say.

  “How are the kids?” she asked, to delay the inevitable. Her glance swept the Asian-style furnishings in the living room. Most outstanding was an ebony lacquered screen with mother-of-pearl inlays depicting Japanese ladies in kimonos chatting by a gazebo. Their porcelain faces held more life than Leah’s wan expression. She’d looked better the last time Marla had seen her, right after her divorce from Stan about two years ago.

  Leah gave a small smil
e. “Keith is fine. He’s in third grade this year, and Emily is in first grade. That helps me a great deal, since I don’t get out of work until three o’clock.”

  “Does Stan ever see them?”

  Leah grunted. “He comes by, but it’s not often enough. Look, I can spare a few minutes to sit and chat. Would you like a drink? I just poured myself a glass of Merlot.”

  “That would be great, thanks.” Marla sat in an armchair and waited patiently. She heard voices, presumably from the kitchen, where Leah must have been quieting her kids.

  A few moments later, Leah returned, wineglasses in hand. The two children followed, and she introduced them. Keith looked like a younger version of his father, with black hair and hazel eyes. Emily had an angelic face framed by a halo of reddish gold hair. Both of them wore shmattehs, clothing Marla would have consigned to the local rummage sale.

  “Finish your game in the family room,” Leah told them. Obediently, they scampered off. After handing Marla her glass, Leah sat on a weave-patterned sofa.

  “They’re beautiful children,” Marla began. She crossed her legs and took a sip of wine. The fruity liquid slid down her throat, leaving an astringent aftertaste.

  “Stan has always been good about child support,” Leah admitted, clutching her goblet, “but it’s never enough when you have two kids to raise. I have health insurance payments and other bills, plus I contribute toward my mother’s support. It’s been a struggle.”

  “Does Stan share custody?”

  “He didn’t request custody, as it would crimp his style. I think Kimberly was the one who didn’t want the burden.”

  Diving into the opening, Marla said gently, “Kimberly is dead. Someone killed her early this morning.”

  Leah stared at her, eyes intent like a seagull searching for prey. “Are you for real?”

  Marla nodded. “Stan’s been arrested. The cops discovered him bending over her body, his pajamas covered with blood. Stan claims he came downstairs and saw her lying there. He turned her over to see if he could help her, but she’d been stabbed. I’m so sorry, Leah, but I felt it would be better for you to hear the news from me rather than a stranger.”

  “I don’t believe it. Stan wouldn’t kill anyone.” Leah’s eyes glazed. “Kimberly... dead? How horrible.” A few moments of heavy silence passed before Leah spoke again. “I can’t say her departure saddens me.”

  “I understand how you must feel,” Marla said soothingly. “Kim was a thorn in my side, too. Stan and I own some property together, and he kept pressuring me to sell so he could use the proceeds to buy a new house. Kimberly wanted a place on the water.”

  Sharing confidences might encourage Leah to talk. Sipping her drink, she waited for the woman’s response.

  “Kim had been his secretary, you know. I popped into the office one day and caught them doing it on Stan’s desk. My dreams for the future evaporated in that instant.”

  “I’m sorry. It must have been a shock.”

  Leah averted her gaze. “I’d always wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. College was a means to an end for me. I didn’t expect to work the rest of my life. Stan and I were a good match. He handled our finances and made the major decisions. I didn’t care to manage those details, so I was glad he took charge.”

  “You complemented each other,” Marla said. It hadn’t been that way between her and Stan. When she’d met him, it was just after Tammy’s death. Marla had been a nineteen-year-old babysitter when the toddler she was watching drowned in a backyard swimming pool. She’d panicked when the girl’s parents threatened to press charges. Stan was a member of the law firm Marla had consulted. Her vulnerability appealed to his need for dominance, and they’d been attracted to each other like positive and negative ions.

  Rising from a pit of self-recrimination, Marla strove to prove herself a worthy individual. That wasn’t possible under Stan’s demeaning influence. She’d found redemption by attending cosmetology school, opening her own salon, and working for the Child Drowning Prevention Coalition. As she’d regained self-esteem, Stan’s dictates lost their power to sway her.

  “The best thing I ever did was to leave Stan,” she confessed, placing her empty wineglass on a table. “It must’ve been terribly difficult for you, especially with the children.”

  Leah, who’d been lost in her own memories, lifted her eyes blazing with animosity. “I hated Kimberly. That bitch stole my husband and ruined our marriage.”

  “I think Stan is telling the truth. He said the front door was unlocked, and Kim might have let in someone she knew. Do you have any idea who might have had reason to kill her?”

  Leah’s mouth curved in a wicked grin. “Other than me? Her death leaves my children as Stan’s main beneficiaries. If he doesn’t remarry, that is.”

  “Ha, I wouldn’t count on it. Stan’s an easy one to criticize others, but he doesn’t recognize his own failings. If you ask me, I think he’s afraid to admit he’s growing older. You’ll see, he’ll shack up with someone younger than Kimberly next.”

  “He’d better not. Stan visits the children once a month,” Leah said, answering Marla’s earlier question. “He tells them about his recent travels—white-water rafting, hiking the Appalachian Trail, skiing in the Alps. We should have had the money he spent on those trips.”

  “So the man likes to live dangerously.”

  “He holds on to his youth, like you said. My kids need a father who is around for them. If not for Kimberly—” Her voice cracked, and she halted.

  “It takes two people to tango,” Marla said quietly. “Stan let himself be seduced. If not Kimberly, another woman might have come along.”

  “Maybe so, but I still blame her. A decent woman wouldn’t get involved with a married man.” A triumphant gleam entered her eyes. “Kim got what she deserved.”

  “Did you ever meet any of Kim’s family?” Marla relaxed against the upholstery, feeling light-headed from the wine. Food would be welcome, she thought, salivating at the aroma of cooking onions and peppers.

  Leah finished her drink and put her glass next to Marla’s. Rising, she stretched. “I heard they were wealthy, but I never encountered her relatives. Why would I?”

  Marla shrugged, then rose to face Leah’s shorter figure. “I promised Stan I’d ask around to see if someone had a motive.”

  Leah propped her hands on her hips. “Wait a minute, how do you know all this if Stan was arrested?”

  “He called me, and I went to the station. I was allowed to see him in his cell. I’d helped the police with a couple of cases before,” she added in explanation.

  “So I’m the first person you chose to interview?” Leah’s brows furrowed angrily.

  “You and I were closest to him, Leah. I felt I should tell you about Kim’s death.”

  “Does Stan believe I had anything to do with it?”

  “No, of course not. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

  Leah glared at her. “I’m not sure if I should be grateful or upset by your visit.”

  “I was hoping you could help me.”

  Leah edged toward the door, signaling an end to their conversation. “You might want to talk to Gary Waterford. He was dating Kim when she took up with Stan. Gary wasn’t happy that she chose to leave him for richer prospects. He runs an air-conditioning business down in Dania.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  A loud shriek came from the back of the house followed by a crash and a prolonged wail.

  Leah’s jaw tightened. “Now what?”

  “You have enough to keep you busy,” Marla said. “I appreciate your taking the time to see me.”

  Leah swung open the front door and gave her an appraising glance. “Yeah, well, Kim couldn’t have chosen a more convenient time to die.”

  “Huh?” Marla stepped across the threshold.

  “Never mind. Kindly give Stan my regards and tell him to come see the kids when he gets out of the clinker.”

  “Sure. Please say good-bye to t
he children for me.” Her gaze shifted inadvertently. “And if you have some free time, drop by my salon. I’ll give you a complementary cut and style.”

  On the way home, she reviewed their dialogue. All she’d learned was that Leah hated Kimberly for the woman’s intrusion into her idyllic life. Leah and Stan had been perfectly suited for each other. Too bad Stan’s inadequacies had kept him from recognizing that fact. According to Leah, his will named their children as beneficiaries after Kim. How expedient for Leah that Kim had dropped out of the picture. Maybe that’s what Leah had meant by her remark.

  Marla would have to talk to Gary Waterford another day. Spooks was home waiting for her to let him outside, plus she was hungry. Stan had promised to call tomorrow regarding the nurse’s aide position, assuming his arraignment took place as expected. So there was nothing more she could do about this affair tonight. Today had been emotionally exhausting. She needed to recover her equilibrium before showing up for work in the morning.

  Spooks greeted her with wild barking. She stroked the poodle’s cream-colored hair until he calmed, then she let him outside. Her meal consisted of a heated meat-loaf dinner in front of the TV. Newscasters made brief mention of the murder in East Fort Lauderdale of a prominent attorney’s wife. Stanley Kaufman had been detained by the police for questioning, although he claimed an intruder was responsible. Marla cringed when his name was mentioned, imagining the smear on his reputation. Unpleasant memories surfaced of her own ordeal after Tammy drowned, and she vowed to help clear his name.

  Deciding to do the dishes later, she let Spooks back inside before calling her mother. Anita lived in a housing development about fifteen minutes away.

  “What kind of meshugass is this?” Anita cried when Marla revealed Stan’s plan. “Like you don’t have enough to do? You’re meshugeh if you get involved with such an idiotic scheme. Stan must be off his rocker.”

  “I’ve never seen him so upset, Ma,” she said, repeating what she’d told Dalton. “Stanley sure as hell wasn’t so bothered when I left him.”