“Because negotiations never broke off, Detective. That was a ruse we used for the media. We closed on the deal last night.”
He stood up, and I knew my interview was over.
My next call was to Claire. I ached to talk to her anyway. I craved my daily Claire fix. I also needed help on the case.
Her secretary said she was in the middle of a conference call when my call came in. She told me to hold on.
“Forensic specialists,” Claire grumbled as she came on the line. “Listen to this…. Some guy’s driving sixty in a thirty-five zone, rams into an elderly man in his Lexus, double-parked, waiting for his wife. DOA. Now the driver’s tying up the guy’s estate with a suit that the victim was illegally parked. All each side wants is to grab a piece of the estate, experts included. Righetti’s pushing me in ’cause the case’s being written up in an AAFS journal. Some of these bastards, you give them a penny for their thoughts, you know what you get?”
“Change,” I answered with a smile. Claire was funny.
“You got it. I’ve got about thirty-one seconds. How you doing?” she inquired. “I love you, sweetheart. I miss you. What do you want, Lindsay?”
I hesitated, part of me wishing I could let the whole thing burst out, but all I asked was if the Brandts were wearing any wedding bands when they were brought in.
“To my knowledge, no,” she replied. “We inventoried earrings and a diamond as large as an eyeball. But no wedding bands. I noticed that myself. In fact, that’s why I was calling you last night.”
“Great minds think alike,” I said.
“Busy minds, at least,” she countered. “How’s your grisly, godawful case coming?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. Next thing we have to do is go through three hundred guests to see if any might’ve been carrying any special grudges. You saw how this is being played up in the press. Russian revenge. The FBI’s creeping around, and Chief Mercer’s barking in Roth’s ear to put a real detective on it. Speaking of which, I have Jacobi out trying to trace down the jacket. Other than that, the case is moving along smoothly.”
Claire laughed. “Stick with it, sweetie. If anyone can solve these murders, it’s you.”
“I wish it were only that….” I let my voice drop.
“Is everything all right?” Claire came back. “You don’t sound your usual chatty, irreverent self.”
“Actually, I need to talk with you. Maybe we can get together Saturday?”
“Sure,” Claire said. “Oh, damn…we’ve got Reggie’s graduation party. Can it keep a day? I could drive in for brunch on Sunday.”
“Of course it can hold,” I said, swallowing my disappointment. “Sunday would be great. I’d like that.”
I hung up with a smile. For a moment, I actually felt better about things. Just making the date with Claire made it seem as if weights had been lifted off my shoulders. Sunday would give me some time to prepare. About how I was going to deal with the treatment, and my job.
Raleigh wandered up. “You want to grab a coffee?”
I thought he was needling me about what time I’d come in. He must have sensed my resentment.
He wagged a legal-size manila envelope in my face and shrugged. “It’s the Brandts’ wedding guest list. I thought you’d want to see who made the cut.”
Chapter 22
WE WENT DOWN TO ROMA’S, one of those stucco-on-stucco, high-ceilinged, Euro-style coffee joints, across the street from the Hall. I prefer Peet’s, but Roma’s is closer.
I ordered a tea, and Raleigh came back with some fancy mocha latte and a slice of fresh pumpkin bread that he put in front of me.
“You ever wonder how these places make any money?” he asked.
“What?” I looked at him. “There’s one on every corner. They all serve the same thing, and their average sale’s gotta be, what …two dollars and thirty-five cents?”
“This isn’t a date, Raleigh,” I snapped. “Let’s go through the list.”
“Maybe closer to three or three-
fifty. Lucky if the places gross four hundred thousand.”