Passion, Betrayal And Killer Highlights. Kyra Davis

I just wanted to help Leah. She’s become such a good friend. And Bob…you have to understand, Bob wasn’t a bad person. He was just…”

      “An adulterer,” I finished. I was pretty sure he was a bad person, too, but I decided to let that one drop.

      “Did you find anything in your search?” Anatoly asked.

      Erika nodded. She unzipped her large purse and began unloading its contents onto her desk. Anatoly’s forehead creased as she pulled out a miniature package of Kleenex, a bottle of prescription pills, a lipstick, a wine cork, a small package labeled insulin, her wallet and finally a small, light pink envelope. I had forgotten about all of Erika’s health problems. She had both severe diabetes and a heart murmur. Yet it was her hearty golf-playing boss who had checked out at the ripe old age of thirty-five. It was irony like that that made a person want to take up smoking.

      Erika picked up the envelope with her thumb and forefinger. “This should give Leah most of the information she wants.”

      “Which is?” Anatoly asked, taking the letter.

      “Her name and address. There’s no phone number and she’s unlisted—I checked.”

      Anatoly scanned the letter while I helped Erika reload her purse. “What time did Bob leave work yesterday?”

      “Five o’clock, as always,” Erika said.

      Anatoly nodded and stuffed the letter back into the envelope. “Did you tell the police about Bianca?”

      “No,” Erika paused a moment to blow her nose again. “I didn’t want to tarnish Bob’s memory. Besides, there’s Leah to consider. I know she’s suffering horribly right now and if she did something in the heat of passion that perhaps she shouldn’t have…I just don’t want to be the one to make things worse for her.”

      My hand clenched the Chateau d’Yquem wine cork that I had been about to drop in her bag. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “You’re not actually giving credence to baseless allegations made by some cross-burning bitch on Channel 2 today.”

      “I’m sorry?” Erika blinked at me. “What are you talking about? You’re not saying that Bob’s mistress was a Klan member, are you? Bob would never get involved with a person like that! She must have lied to him about who she was or…or brainwashed him!” Erika dropped her head to her arms again and started weeping.

      Anatoly grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the exit. “Thanks for your help. Leah will contact you to discuss the memorial service,” he called over his shoulder before shoving me into the elevator.

      “Sophie, I doubt a lot of people saw that report,” he said when the doors closed. “I know this may be hard for you to understand, but some people might think Leah’s guilty just because she had means, opportunity and motive.”

      “Yeah, yeah, tell it to Dershowitz.” I jammed my finger against the button labeled L. “Let me see the letter.”

      Anatoly handed it over to me and I quickly unfolded it.

      Dear Bobby,

      I know I shouldn’t be writing this, but you’re all I can think about these days. Every time I drive by a restaurant in which we dined, or pass a park bench on which we sat, or walk down a street on which you held my hand, I think of you.

      Oh, yuck.

      I hope that by putting the feelings that are in my heart on paper I will be better able to sort through them and maybe even figure out the right thing to do.

      I know you think I shouldn’t, but I keep thinking of your wife and child. I know that she’s been disloyal and that she’s hurt you, but two wrongs have never made a right. Thus, it is my moral obligation to end things between us.

      But I can’t do it, Bobby. Whenever I force myself to entertain the idea of life without you, a little part of me dies. I can still remember the way your shirt felt against my cheek as we danced at the Starlight Room. That night you told me we were soul mates. When I recall those words I know that I will never be able to walk away from you. Does that make me a horrible person? How can an immoral relationship feel so right?

      So, despite the guilt, I am yours. I have no right to ask you to choose between me and your family, but I hope that you will have pity on me and make your decision. If you choose your family I will be heartbroken but I will understand; it’s the right choice to make. I just don’t have the strength to make it.

      Love Always,

      B

      “Oh, this chick is a piece of work!”

      Anatoly stifled a laugh as the doors opened to the ground floor. “Maybe she’s being sincere,” he suggested as he escorted me to the sidewalk.

      “Nah. All that ‘I’ll be heartbroken but I’ll understand’ stuff is total passive-aggressive BS. She actually had the nerve to try to guilt him into leaving his wife and child!”

      “Mmm, maybe—”

      We stopped in front of his bike and he handed me the spare helmet.

      “We’ll find out soon enough,” he added.

      “You think?”

      “I know. We’re going to pay her a visit right now.”

      CHAPTER 4

      “But she can’t be a slut,” Sara said with a confused shake of her head. “She buys her bras at Mervyn’s.”

      —Words To Die By

      As it turned out, Bianca lived in an eight-story building at the top of Nob Hill. Anatoly found her name next to a buzzer for the seventh-floor flat. “A twenty-one-year-old with a condo kitty-corner to Grace Cathedral.” Anatoly made an appreciative clucking sound with his tongue. “Pretty impressive prize for a man you described as the world’s biggest schmuck.”

      “She probably has buck teeth and a lazy eye.”

      Anatoly shrugged and pressed the buzzer. A few seconds later a feminine voice come through the speaker. “Yes?”

      Anatoly held up his hand to stop me from saying anything. “Hello, Miss Whitman? My name is Anatoly Darinsky. I’m a private investigator. I was hired by Bob Miller’s family to investigate his death.”

      There was a moment’s pause and then we heard a loud buzz as the door before us unlocked. Anatoly held it open for me and we waited at the elevator.

      “At what point do I get to rip her hair out?” I whispered.

      “No hair ripping. We’re going to make her feel as comfortable as possible.”

      “You think she’s going to be comfortable talking to the sister of her lover’s wife?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Give me a break.”

      “You’re not Leah’s sister,” he said as we stepped onto the elevator.

      “I’m not?”

      “Not for this interview. You’re my assistant and you will behave as such.”

      I tapped my finger against my lips thoughtfully. “I like that. You know, I bet that a few weeks of working with you would be enough to drive me to the edge of insanity. I might just have a breakdown and start tearing out the hair of some adulterous slut for no reason.”

      “Sophie…”

      “Relax,” I said. “I’m just kidding…sort of.”

      The elevator doors opened to the seventh floor, and standing in a small foyer was a pretty petite blonde wearing khakis and a white button-up blouse. A pink cardigan was draped over her shoulders.

      Anatoly extended his hand to her. “Miss Whitman? Thank you for seeing me. This is—”

      Bianca’s hand flew to her mouth. “You’re Sophie Katz, Leah’s