Obsession, Deceit And Really Dark Chocolate. Kyra Davis

being here.”

      “Don’t you think you should have mentioned that Eugene was in the FBI?”

      “Is it relevant?”

      “Of course it’s relevant! What if someone whom he investigated while at the bureau decided to get revenge? Maybe that’s why he’s dead!”

      Melanie shook her head. “Eugene hasn’t worked for the FBI in over twenty years. If someone wanted revenge, they would have gotten it by now.”

      “Are you sure? I mean, come on, Melanie, my theory has to be as good as the one you have.”

      “I don’t really have a theory.”

      “My point exactly.”

      Melanie sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I know, I know. I’ve given you nothing to go on. I suppose I’m not thinking straight these days. It’s just that nothing seems to make sense anymore.”

      “Melanie,” I said, cutting her off, “I just need to know if Eugene was involved in anything or anyone else that might have led to his death. Is the FBI thing the only bit of information you were keeping from me?”

      “That’s it…really.”

      “Why don’t I believe you?”

      Melanie gave me a pained look before turning her attention to a couple of well-wishers who apparently had no qualms about interrupting our conversation. I marched back to where Leah and Mary Ann were standing. Johnny had moved on.

      “I can’t believe you just handed me a wineglass like I was hired help,” Leah spat.

      “Sorry, I wanted to catch Melanie while she was alone, and I knew that was probably going to be my one and only opportunity to do so today.” I checked my watch. “Let’s get out of here. It’s getting late and I’m not finding anything out.”

      “Fine with me,” Leah said. “Liz isn’t expecting me for another few hours, but I like the idea of showing up early to make sure she’s not doing anything she shouldn’t. I think her boyfriend may be stopping by for the occasional visit while she’s watching Jack, which is completely unacceptable. I will not have Jack exposed to his babysitter’s love life.”

      Yes, God forbid Jack be exposed to a healthy relationship between a man and a woman. Given a frame of reference he might come to understand how romantically challenged his mother and aunt really are.

      “If you’re worried about your babysitter why didn’t you leave Jack with his grandma?” Mary Ann asked.

      “Mama’s on a three-week cruise to Baja with her Jewish seniors’ group,” I explained.

      “Baja?” Mary Ann repeated. “Wow, that sounds like a fun vacation.”

      “Yes,” Leah confirmed. “Sophie and I have been enjoying it immensely. Now, let’s get our coats, shall we?”

      “Did I just overhear that you were leaving?”

      We all turned at the sound of Rick’s voice.

      “We have to get back to the city,” Mary Ann explained.

      “I see, well it was good to meet you.” He looked deep into Mary Ann’s eyes. “Thank you so much for talking to me. You made today a little more bearable.”

      “It was good to meet you, too,” I said, although it was exceedingly obvious that he wasn’t talking to me. “I know this isn’t the place to ask for a professional favor, but I recently pitched an idea to…um…the National Review for an article dealing with the inner workings of political campaigns,” I lied. “I’d love to interview you for it…and Flynn Fitzgerald, of course.”

      “The National Review?” Rick shifted his weight back on his heels. “That’s a fairly conservative periodical.”

      “Yes, I guess it is.” And Microsoft is a fairly big computer company.

      “Forgive me if I’m out of line, but Johnny was just telling me about your books. He said they were quite good, but he also said that your protagonist is a committed Democrat. I had assumed that you were a Democrat, as well.”

      “Um…yes, I am, but a very conservative one.”

      Rick cocked his head. “You must be if you’re writing for the National Review.”

      “I’m like the John McCain of the Democratic party.”

      “Really?” Rick sounded incredibly skeptical.

      “Yes, I really think we should lower the income tax and I just love the idea of…school vouchers.”

      “Is that so? Do you have children?”

      “No, she has a nephew, my son Jack,” Leah said, eyeing the door longingly. “He’ll be attending Adda Clevenger Junior Preparatory and then I plan on sending him to the Bay School of San Francisco. I’ve spoken to people in the admissions offices of Harvard and Yale and everyone agrees that a Bay School education will be beneficial.”

      Rick nodded appreciatively. “How old is your son?”

      “Two. I’m truly sorry, Rick, but I have to pick him up now. Do you think you could give my sister your card so she can contact you later to set up an interview?”

      “An interview?” Johnny had just popped up from nowhere. “Are you going to interview somebody? Are you researching one of your books? Can I help? I would love to help you research an Alicia Bright novel!”

      “I’m actually writing an article for the National Review,” I muttered. I should have said that I was researching a book. That would have been a much easier lie to pull off.

      “So you’re a journalist, too? That’s so cool!” Johnny gushed. “Who do you want to interview? Can I help?”

      “This article is about the campaign process, so I’d love to talk to any of the top people on Fitzgerald’s team. You know, the people Eugene worked with.”

      “I suppose I could help you with that,” Rick said, pulling out his card and pressing it into my hand. “Even when I’m out of the office I always check my messages.”

      “Good to know.” I smiled at my companions. “Shall we?”

      “Bye!” Johnny called after us.

      When we got out to the car I threw my arms around Leah’s neck. “Thank you so much for coming to my rescue. All that stuff about making college plans for your two-year-old was perfect.”

      Leah broke away and looked at me. “I didn’t make that up. My son’s going to Harvard. Yale’s just his backup.”

      “Oh…right, of course.” I bit my lip as I got behind the wheel of my car and waited for Mary Ann and Leah to get themselves settled. I love my nephew, but I didn’t see him going to Harvard so much as I saw him going on Ritalin.

      I dropped Mary Ann off first and then started toward Leah’s babysitter’s family home, which was conveniently located across the street from Leah’s. “How’s work?” I asked as I idled my car at a stoplight.

      Not long ago Leah had been a stay-at-home mom married to Bob Miller. Now Bob was dead, which should have been sad except he had been such an incredibly awful and emotionally abusive man that pretending to be mournful over his early demise was kind of like shedding tears over the retirement of stone-washed jeans. So no one blinked an eye when Leah quickly pulled herself together, sold her large Forest Hill home for $3.4 million dollars, along with most of Bob’s things and bought a $1.6 million two-bedroom in Laurel Heights. She used some of her excess cash to get herself set up as a freelance special-events coordinator. Her Junior League friends helped out by funneling business her way, and it quickly became apparent that Leah was born for the job. Whether it was a corporate retreat or an elaborate birthday celebration for a debutante’s shih tzu, my sister managed to make the event an elegant affair to remember.

      “Work’s