Passion, Betrayal And Killer Highlights. Kyra Davis
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at all.” She averted her eyes and her shoulders began to tremble. “All I really want is for Bob to be alive again.”
Anatoly sighed and drummed his fingers against the armrest impatiently. “Bianca, do you know for sure that Bob informed Leah he was leaving her this last time?”
Bianca nodded without making eye contact. “He came over here right after he broke the news to her. It was the last time…we were together.” She swallowed hard. “I can’t understand how he could be gone when just yesterday he was making love to me.”
I tried to swallow my disgust, but it was impossible.
“Did he say anything about the rest of his plans for that day?” Anatoly asked.
“He said he was going to work and then he was going to go home and pack. He was planning on moving in with me that night, but said he might not get here until late. I waited and waited, and when he wasn’t here by eleven, I turned on the news and—” She stopped herself and stared fixedly at the hardwood floor.
Anatoly cleared his throat. “Did Bob ever talk about anyone he disliked or who he felt disliked him?”
“Other than Leah?”
“Yes,” Anatoly and I said in unison.
“No, everyone loved Bob.”
Those were the same words Leah had used. I had a quick flashback of a Saturday Night Live skit in which the audience of a Broadway play came out of the theater and one after another recited in a monotone voice, “It was better than Cats, I’d see it again and again.” Maybe Erika was on to something with the brainwashing thing. Worse, maybe Bob had turned all the women he had contact with into San Francisco’s version of a Stepford wife. But that didn’t work because San Francisco’s version of a Stepford wife would probably be a drag queen.
“All right, I think I have all I need for right now.” Anatoly stood up, and Bianca followed suit. “May I contact you again if I have further questions?” he asked.
Bianca nodded. She looked at me and pulled nervously at the sweater draped over her shoulders. “Please tell Leah that I’m sorry.”
“I can’t imagine that your apology would mean anything to my sister.”
Anatoly took hold of my wrist. “We’re leaving now.” He pulled me toward the door, but I resisted.
“One more thing,” I said. “May I see the bracelet?”
Anatoly shot me a questioning look. I had forgotten to tell him about the Tiffany’s receipt Leah had found.
Bianca flushed. “You know about that?”
I fixed her with a cool stare. Bianca bit her lip.
“I’ll go get it,” she whispered, and retreated into the next room.
“What bracelet?” Anatoly hissed.
“Yesterday Leah told me she found a receipt for a six-thousand-dollar bracelet.”
“And I’m just hearing about this now?”
“It’s not like it’s important. The only reason I brought it up is that I want to see what it looks like.”
“Really,” he said dryly. “This isn’t about trying to make Bianca feel guilty about the gift?”
I shrugged. “It’s an added perk.”
Bianca reappeared with a wide gold bracelet that was covered in small, sparkling yellow stones. She cupped her hand and held it out for my inspection. I poked it gingerly with my finger. “Wow, Liz Taylor’s got nothing on you. Are these diamonds?”
“Yellow sapphires.”
“Huh, those suckers must have been on special or something.”
“He gave it to me to celebrate the one-year anniversary of the day we met.” Bianca’s voice took on a dreamy tone. “He got the date wrong by six and a half weeks but I never corrected him. It was just such a romantic gesture.”
Extravagant seemed like a better word for it. Still, Bob clearly had better taste than I had given him credit for. I pulled my hand away from the bracelet. “It’s amazing how profitable immorality can be, isn’t it?”
Bianca’s lower lip started doing its trembling thing and Anatoly grabbed my arm again. “We’re really going now,” he said, more to me than to her.
Bianca trailed behind us and watched glumly as we stepped onto the elevator.
“I can’t believe I allowed you to come on these interviews,” Anatoly muttered after the doors had closed.
“I’m sorry, but she messed up my sister’s life and I don’t really give a shit how sorry she is about it. She’s probably the one who killed Bob. I mean, if she loved him so much, why is she extending her apologies to the woman she believes to be his murderer?”
“That was a bit strange.” Anatoly stepped out of the elevator on the first floor and escorted me to the sidewalk. “Do you think there’s any truth to Bianca’s assertion that Bob tried to leave Leah nine months ago?”
“No way. Leah would have told me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Leah doesn’t suffer quietly. Ever.”
Anatoly sighed and looked back at Bianca’s building.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
“I’m thinking that if the police end up talking to Bianca they’re going to think that she…”
“Has an unhealthy lack of cynicism?” I offered.
Anatoly laughed softly. “She is incredibly naive, but what I was going to say was that she comes across as being credible.” He looked at me and the gravity in his expression chilled me. “They’re going to think she is a lot more credible than your sister.”
I didn’t say anything, and Anatoly was wise enough not to push the issue. We mounted his Harley and rode to my apartment in silence. When he stopped the bike in front of my doorstep I muttered a goodbye and walked swiftly to the door.
“Sophie?”
I turned to see that Anatoly had gotten off his bike and was standing with his helmet in his hands. “I know this is hard, but for a moment I want you to pretend that you don’t love Leah. I want you to think about the things she’s done in the past and the things she hasn’t, and then I want you to tell me if you believe she could be capable of murder.”
I swallowed and turned away.
“Sophie, even if the answer is yes, I’ll still help you protect her.”
“Why?” I shook my head in bewilderment. “It’s not like you owe me anything. If anything, it’s the other way around.”
“Because,” Anatoly said softly, “I have a brother.”
This was news to me. Fifty million questions flooded my mind. Did he live nearby? Was he still in Russia? Or had they immigrated together to Israel but not to America? But it didn’t seem like the right time to ask.
“So about Leah…” Anatoly prodded.
“Right—Leah.” I thought about the woman who was my sister. I replayed the conversation we had had the afternoon before Bob’s death and then I thought about Brad Thompson. Brad was from Leah’s pre-Bob days and he had been the “love of her life.” She had assured me, our mother and everyone else who would listen that he was going to propose. And then it happened—the breakup. He told her that she was fun to mess around with but not nearly good enough to marry. I sat by her side as she cried into her pillow and listed off all the things she wanted to do to him, his car and his reputation. But when I had suggested that we get some of my male friends to start a fight with him at a bar and rough him up, Leah had been