Passion, Betrayal And Killer Highlights. Kyra Davis

words, I could see the twinkle of interest ignite in his eyes as he noted my new proximity. His mouth curved into a little half smile. I know that people often find themselves craving sex after a funeral but it probably isn’t healthy to be overcome with lust right after a family member has been shot. I distracted myself by looking at his feet. I’ve never been into feet no matter how big they are.

      “Anatoly, I’m here to hire you. I was going to pay you six thousand dollars to find out if Bob was messing around. Now I’m offering you…ten. Ten grand to find out who messed with him.”

      “It’s not about the money, Sophie.”

      “What if I raise it to twelve? Then can it be about the money?”

      He was silent for a bit and I kept my eyes glued to his boots. My friend Marcus always says that if a man’s shoes match his belt it means he’s gay. Anatoly must be the straightest man alive because his shoes never match anything. They are always ugly and—

      “If you hire me I might uncover information that you don’t want to know.”

      The statement was loaded with enough reality to quiet my raging hormones. I refocused on his face. “Then I’ll fire you.”

      Anatoly snorted and looked out to the street. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this.”

      “Great!” I pulled my keys out of my pocket and dangled them in front of him. “Get your coat and get in the car. I’ll fill you in on the details on the way.”

      “I didn’t say I would take the case.”

      “But you were about to. Come on, no more banter. The police are arriving at the scene as we speak.”

      Anatoly shook his head in defeat. “I’m going upstairs to get some things. Wait for me in the car.” He retreated into the building and I ran to my car. I snapped on my seat belt and put my hand on the gearshift, ready to press it into first the minute his cute butt hit the seat. Anatoly was obviously less anxious. He strolled out wearing a generously cut leather coat and no other visible accessories. Maybe he had all his James Bond–like spy stuff hidden in his inside pockets.

      Instead of taking his place in the passenger seat he came around to the driver’s side and opened my door. “Move over, I’m driving.”

      “It’s my car.”

      Anatoly bent down so that he was at eye level. “After your sister left your apartment, what did you do?”

      “I watched some TV.”

      “Right. Did you have any snacks while you were watching?”

      “What would I snack on?”

      “Vodka.”

      “Vodka’s a good snack. Easy to prepare, light on calories…”

      Anatoly smiled. “I’m driving.”

      I gripped the wheel possessively. “Anatoly, you can’t possibly think I’m drunk.”

      “No, I think your blood alcohol level is hovering around .08 but since we’re going to a place that we know will be crawling with cops it would be best if we don’t test fate.”

      I grunted in disgust but relinquished my seat to him. “You think you know me so well.”

      Anatoly positioned himself behind the wheel and adjusted the rearview mirror. “I guessed correctly, didn’t I?”

      “Maybe. Or maybe you were playing PI in the apartment across the street, spying with a telescopic lens.”

      “I don’t have to play PI, I am one.” He started the ignition and turned off the radio. “And I also have a life. Which way?”

      “We’re going to Forest Hill. You know how to get to that neighborhood?”

      Apparently he did, because he turned the car in the appropriate direction. I spent the first half of the drive giving him what little information I had. He listened, only interrupting occasionally to ask a question that I inevitably didn’t have an answer to. When I finished, the conversation lulled and I focused on the cars and street lamps we sped past. I hated to admit it to myself but I was pleased that he had insisted on driving. I consider myself to be a pretty independent person but in times of extreme crisis it was nice to have someone around who wanted to take control. That didn’t mean I was going to give him control, but I could take some comfort in knowing that it was an option.

      As we got closer I broke the silence in order to direct him but I didn’t need to give him the exact address. Once we were within a block of the house all the flashing lights and uniformed officers served as a pretty clear indicator of where we were going. Anatoly parked several houses away and pulled the keys out without making any move to get out of the car. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask you again, Sophie. Are you sure you want me to investigate this?”

      I should have been flattered by the note of concern in his voice, but its implication frightened me. I shook my head violently in an attempt to shake off the dark thoughts that were creeping in. “She’s innocent, and yes, I want you to investigate.”

      We stared at each other for a beat. Finally, in what seemed to be slow motion, our hands simultaneously reached for our respective door handles and we got out and approached the crime scene.

      CHAPTER 2

      “Life is like a never ending play,” he said between drags on his cigarette. “We all have roles to perform and there’s always some critic insisting we’ve been miscast.”

      —Words To Die By

      We hadn’t gotten very far before we were headed off by a particularly butch policewoman who used her hand as a barrier. “Sorry, no one’s allowed beyond this point.”

      “My sister’s in there,” I argued. “This is her house.”

      The woman was completely unmoved. “You’ll see her later.”

      “Well, if it isn’t Sophie Katz and her victim—er—friend, Anatoly Darinsky.”

      I looked up to see the tall, lean form of Detective Lorenzo. His eyes narrowed as they met mine. He had let his black curls grow out since the last time I had seen him, which made him look younger, if not nicer. I felt the muscles in my neck tighten.

      “You’re the detective handling this case?” I asked.

      “One of them.”

      “I think there’s a conflict of interest here. You hate me and you’ve been sent to investigate my brother-in-law’s murder. It doesn’t seem reasonable to expect you to remain objective.”

      Anatoly put his hand on my shoulder in what must have appeared to others to be a supportive gesture. Only I knew that there would be permanent indentation marks where his fingers were digging into my flesh.

      “What exactly do you want me to be objective about?” Lorenzo asked. “And how do you know your brother-in-law was murdered?”

      Anatoly loosened his grip, but not enough to eliminate all the discomfort. I’m not sure what he thought he was accomplishing. Obviously what I needed was to be smacked upside the head.

      I took a deep breath and soldiered forward. “Leah called me a little while ago, distraught. She told me she had…found him.”

      “Do you know if this was before or after she called us?”

      “I…don’t know. I didn’t think to ask. She loved him so much…. I’m really very worried about her—can I see her?”

      “Just a few more questions.” Lorenzo pulled out a pocket notebook and pen. “Did she tell you how he was killed?”

      “She wasn’t sure. She said there was a lot of blood and it seemed to be coming from his head.”

      “She called and told you there was blood coming out