Intrusion (2 page)

Sunlight filtered slowly through my solar shade. I lurched out of bed, wondering if it had really happened. Had I dreamed it? Maybe it was just another convoluted nightmare. I checked my clock. Nine o’clock. Jesus, Lord! Della would be desperate by now. I tore into the living room and saw my best friend calmly reading a paperback. No more hysteria. Candace
Ott
, beauty guru and confidante of the stars, was in the house.

“It’s true then,” I said, scanning her perfectly groomed person. She’d shed the
minidress
for one of mine and smoothed her French braid. No mascara trails today.

Candy nodded. “I called Sergeant Andrews. We’re meeting him at noon.” She pointed toward the kitchen. “Espresso over there, and don’t worry about Della. We already took a run around the Common.”

I staggered toward the caffeine. “Nothing’s changed. I won’t go to the morgue. I can’t.”

She waved her arms dismissively. “Not a problem. He’s coming here.”

“Here!” My synapses weren’t firing yet. I couldn’t bear that police presence, the bland, meaningless phrases like, “We’re so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Buckley,” invading my home again. “No,” I sputtered. “Call him. Cancel everything.”

Candy masked pity with a mile-wide smile.
“Sorry, Betts.
No can do. He’s on his way now.” She checked that ridiculous watch again. “Oops. Better get in gear. Your hair could use a shampoo.”

My hair! I’d always pampered it, obsessed about it actually. Not many natural redheads around these days, Kai always said.

“You’re right,” I said. “After all, I’m supposed to be a makeup maven, aren’t I?”

“Exactly.
You have time to deep condition, too, and a face masque wouldn’t hurt.” Her smile never wavered. “Tommy would approve. You know how he was about appearances.
Kai, too.”

Did
I
ever. The three of us had shared a college flat in Georgetown. Money wasn’t plentiful, so Candy whipped up mayonnaise hair masks, oatmeal facials and God only knew what else. Tommy was a good sport about it. We’d slopped that goop all over him, too. Whenever he brought a girlfriend home, we flaunted pictures of him wearing our handiwork. He swore that’s why he’d never married.

Armed with a dizzying array of products, I stepped into my shower. It boasted a collection of knobs, nozzles and gadgets that I’d never quite mastered. My birthday surprise, a sybaritic combo of marble, bronze and river stones fit for a monarch. Kai’s queen. I stemmed the tide of self-pity, applying myself to the beauty rituals I loved. There’s comfort in the scent of lavender and the soothing glow of honey cream. I emerged, scrubbed, perfumed and
pampered,
an almost believable visage of city chic. Candy’s amazing camouflage cream masked the circles under my eyes. Vanity aside, my eyes were my best feature.
Deep hazel.
My auburn locks looked shiny again even though I didn’t blow them dry this time. Let Johnny Law see me
au
naturel
.

One
spritz
of Creed and I was ready. I chose his favorite, Silver Mountain Water. Every time he used it, Kai heaved a giant sigh, closed his eyes, and swore he was back in the Alps. He’d loved the mountains, loved them to death.

Candy nodded at my buffed-up image. “You clean up nicely, Mrs. B.”

My smile was wan at best. “Thanks. Listen, Candy.
Just one thing.
Cops can be ruthless. Nothing’s off limits when murder’s involved. Stay on your guard.”

She cocked her head. “Why? I certainly didn’t kill him. I loved Tommy. So did you.”

The buzzer ended our sparring. Della charged the door as I let in the law.

Two

Sergeant
Mark Andrews was nobody’s fool. His sharp grey eyes did a quick assessment of his surroundings as he performed the greeting ritual, refused coffee and settled into a leather wingchair.

Our home, mine now, had once been a source of particular pride. We’d bought the flat from a tart-tongued dowager who was downsizing. She’d dismissed me out of hand, but oh, how she’d warmed to Kai. Women always did. Even after we’d gutted the entire place, obsessed over paint chips and scrutinized every purchase, it still bore her imprint. Maybe class and elegance were things you were born with. Kai had them, but I was a pretender. He had carefully and lovingly chosen every object in the house. I’d helped, of course. I made a great sidekick. Always second chair to the lead counsel.

Andrews probably calculated the cost of each square foot with that cash register he called a mind.
Probably wondered if something illegal funded the opulence.

My first thought was crazy. Andrews had the raw-boned look and ungainly stature of
Ichabod
Crane. He’d brought a sidekick, too, a twenty-something rookie named
Francie
Cohen. Andrews flashed faux sincerity worthy of a politician;
Francie
checked her emotions at the door. She nodded briskly and faded into the woodwork, busying herself with note taking. Candy stared at her with maddening intensity. I knew she was doing a mental makeover of Ms. Cohen, applying foundation, shadow and a hint of blush. Naturally, that mound of helmet-hair would have to go.

Andrews surprised me. He skipped that usual line of cop patter and got right down to business.

“Tell us about your friend, ladies. You should know that we have no suspects and no motive.” He crossed his rather elegant long legs. “Of course, it’s early days yet.”

Candy and I exchanged puzzled glances. I cleared my throat.

“What exactly do you want to know? Tommy was our closest friend since college days. We did everything together.” I choked back a sob.

Andrews donned reading glasses and scrutinized a folder. His silver hair was remarkably lush for a man in his fifties. “Mr. Yancey was your business partner as well, I understand.” Somehow that sounded like an accusation.

“Yes,” Candy chirped. “That is, he used to be.”

Andrews raised thick black brows. “You had a falling out? Let’s see, you are the founder and CEO of Sweet Nothings, a cosmetic company.”

From the bowels of the back room,
Francie
Cohen piped up. “Oh, no,
Sarge
, not just a cosmetic company. Sweet Nothings is a beauty empire.” She ducked her head, mindful of the daggers Andrews shot her way. Of course, Candy was delighted. She brightened immediately and was all smiles as
Francie’s
stock vaulted to the top of the chart.

“What part did Mr. Yancey play in this beauty empire?” His head swiveled back to me. “I understand you and your husband, Kai Buckley, are part of this enterprise, too.”

That caught me unaware. To my horror, renegade tears slid down my cheeks. I turned away for a second and wiped them. “My late husband and I were CFOs of the corporation. Tommy and I met him in business school.”

Andrews grunted. “You attended Harvard Business School?”

I nodded, fighting for control. “All three of us did.”

“Not me,” Candy said. “Not my style, not the academic type. By the time Tommy graduated he was sick of school, too. Betts and Kai kept on going straight through law school.”

“Back to basics, ladies.”
Andrews uncrossed his legs. “Why did Mr. Yancey leave your company? He hooked up with this CYBER-MED firm a year ago. What was that all about?”

My response was measured. Andrews hadn’t told us one thing yet. “I’m not sure of the details. Tommy was excited, said it was the wave of the future.
Something about virtual care and enhanced communication.
Frankly, I kind of tuned him out.”

Andrews raised a furry brow. “I thought he was your dear friend, Mrs. Buckley.”

I stammered a response. “Things were difficult then. My husband …”

“Cut her some slack, Jack.” Candy’s voice dripped with contempt. “We all loved Kai. Besides, Tommy pulled out of Sweet Nothings last year. He wanted the cash, said he needed it for something big.”

“Kai, my husband, offered him a loan instead. Everything was trending upward. We knew the business was bound to take off.” I sighed. “And it did. We’ve turned a profit three quarters in a row.”

Andrews had a face as blank as slate. He shuffled his papers, spending an inordinate amount of time studying something. “Looks like you’re pretty well fixed,” he said, glancing around the room. “Commonwealth Ave is as good as it gets.”

I was proud of my home, our home, but it didn’t define me. A shack would seem like a palace if Kai were alive.

Anger flamed my face. “I fail to see what that has to do with my friend’s death.”

He leaned forward. “His murder, Mrs. Buckley, don’t forget that. We have a witness who swears Mr. Yancey was targeted. This was no accident. That car hunted him.”

Candy clutched her throat, uttering a strangled cry. “Why? Why would anyone hurt Tommy? Everybody loved him.”

Waves of cynicism wafted out of Andrews. “You’d be surprised how often people tell me that. If victims were all so lovable, I’d be out of a job.”

Francie
Cohen gasped, ducked her head again and quickly recovered. Her time with Andrews would be short if she kept that up. Most homicide cops considered compassion a waste of time and energy unless it helped induce a confession.

“Were you estranged from Mr. Yancey?” Andrews hurled that one at me.

“Certainly not.
He was family, best man at my wedding. We cared about each other.”

Andrews shuffled papers again. Hadn’t that man ever heard of order? He patted a wing of white hair and smiled. “You forgave him then, I suppose.”

I shivered. Scores of nature videos flashed through my mind.
The helpless prey unable to escape.
The relentless predator extending his claws.

“He was there when your husband died, Mrs. Buckley. At least that’s what this report says.
Cited for reckless conduct, almost charged by the authorities in New Hampshire.”
Andrews tapped a cheap plastic pen on the arm of the wing chair. “He caused your husband’s death, didn’t he?”

My throat closed. I swallowed, hoping to avoid a coughing spasm that would savage my carefully applied mascara. Candy saved the day by pressing a goblet of Pellegrino to my lips.

“Here, Betts,” she said, “take a sip. Maybe we need our attorney.” She squeezed my shoulder, recalling too late that Kai had been our lawyer. “I thought you wanted our help. We can’t do that if you tromp all over us like the Gestapo.”

For a petite, ultra - girly person, Candy stood ten feet tall when her hackles were raised. She gave Andrews a ferocious glare. “Now, can we have a civilized conversation or not?”

I recovered quickly, fueled by an intense desire to kick Mark Andrews’ ass. He reminded me of every smug professor who’d eyed my breasts instead of appreciating my intellect. They’d changed their tune, and so would this guy.

“Sorry for the lapse, Sergeant,” I said. “For the record, I never blamed Tommy for anything. My husband was a daredevil. He thrived on it. Tommy just went along for the ride.”

He didn’t believe me, the rigid set of his shoulders told me that, but he had a job to do.
Plenty of questions to ask.
Francie
Cohen stole a glance at me and quickly receded to the background. Andrews stood, angling his body away from Candy.

“If your offer still stands, I’d like some of that Pellegrino.” He seemed proud of himself for remembering the name. Candy flashed her party smile and quickly filled another goblet. “How about you, Officer?” she said to
Francie
. “Taking notes is thirsty work.”

A fleeting smile and half nod were her answer. I steeled myself for the next onslaught, taking care not to underestimate my adversary.

“What did Tommy tell you about his new job?” Andrews
asked,
an open-ended question for either one of us. Candy galloped to the rescue.

“He was excited. Tommy said that a start-up like CYBER-MED was right up his alley.” She shrugged. “With his MBA and all, they really wanted him. He could be his own man there, not standing in someone’s shadow.” She lowered her eyes, knowing that we’d all stood in Kai’s shadow.

“I’m still unclear about something. What exactly does this company do, this CYBER-MED?” Andrews must have boned up on old Colombo episodes. His simple flatfoot
schtick
needed some serious work. I’d bet our third quarter profits that he’d already devoured the corporate prospectus.
Probably inhaled the profit and loss while he was at it.

Candy wasn’t the only charmer around. I polished my Ivy League gloss and answered the man. “Think of CYBER-MED as a security company, you know, like ADT or Brinks but for health use. They monitor wireless medical devices, the implantable kind.”

This time his reaction seemed genuine. “I didn’t know there’s any demand for stuff like this. Real science fiction, isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s in its infancy now, but hey, technology is the wave of the future.” I smiled, recalling Tommy’s glowing face as he described his new duties. “Boston is a hub for high-tech gizmos.” I shrugged. “All those medical facilities, you know.”