Kevin had been leaning against the wall sipping diet soda from a can. “Not the entire time,” he said, pushing himself upright and setting the can on a nearby table. He walked to where Anne Tripper sat and put his hands on her shoulders, lightly massaging them. “I seem to remember several times when you and Lena left the room, separately and together. Isn’t that right, Anne?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. People do need to use the facilities every now and then,” Sevenson said. “We spent most of the afternoon with you two.”
“Most of it, but not all,” Kevin said.
Lance narrowed his eyes at him. “Of course, by your own calculation, that leaves some of
your
time unaccounted for as well.”
“Anne can vouch for my presence,” Kevin said.
“As Lena can vouch for mine.”
Lena looked up from her pad. “Uh, yes, that’s right.”
“This posturing is ridiculous,” Anne said, shrugging Kevin’s hands off her shoulders. “If you have questions, Detective Chesny, please ask them so we can get out of here.”
Chesny looked down at his clipboard. “All right,” he said. “Did you kill Miss Archibald, Miss Tripper?”
Startled, Anne lifted a hand to her neck, her rings catching the light with the movement of her fingers. “I did not, as I have already told your assistants, or whatever you call them.” She waved her hand toward the door, where two uniformed officers had taken up their posts. “And I was with Kevin all afternoon.”
“I understand this is yours,” Chesny said, holding up the opal ring.
“What? Where did you get that?”
“It was found on the floor near the body.”
“Near the body?”
“That’s correct. Would you care to explain?”
“I told you buying an opal for yourself was bad luck,” Lance said, leering at her.
She gave him an icy stare. “It was stolen from my purse,” she said, enunciating each word. “Just ask those two.” She twirled around in her chair and pointed to Jennifer and Susan. “They should have been making sure that no one had access to where our personal items were stored. But they obviously fell down on their job. Or else they stole my ring themselves.”
“We did not,” Jennifer replied angrily. “We were there the whole time. We just make a handy excuse for you, don’t we? You’re always ready to blame someone else for your problems.”
Chesny looked over at me. “Mrs. Fletcher, I believe you have a question for Miss Tripper.”
I rose from my seat and walked to the other side of the table. “You went on an errand yesterday afternoon. I just wondered where you went.”
Anne bristled. “As if it’s any of your business.” Chesny raised his brows and peered at her over his half-glasses. “Answer the question, please.”
“I . . . I keep a studio I use for writing,” she said, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle out of her skirt. “I went there yesterday afternoon to make some notes for my book.”
“You told me you were going for a walk to get some exercise,” Kevin said, frowning at her.
“I did go for a walk, but I also went to my studio.”
“You went all the way up to the Upper West Side and back in an hour and a half ?”
“I don’t like the way you’re questioning me, Kevin. I don’t have to answer to you.”
“No, but I’d like you to answer me,” Chesny said. “Did anyone see you on your walk or at your studio?”
“I have no idea,” Anne said hotly. “Why should I have to account for my private time? What does this have to do with Betsy’s murder?”
“Someone ransacked Betsy’s apartment yesterday,” I put in.
“Well, it wasn’t me.”
“But you knew where she lived.”
“Of course I knew where she lived. I made sure to know. She’d been Kevin’s lover before he met me.”
“You don’t strike me as the jealous type,” Lance said, grinning.
“Shut up, Sevenson. No one’s interested in your opinion.”
“People pay for my opinion all the time.”
“So you deny being at Miss Archibald’s apartment yesterday?” Chesny said.
“I do, and you can give me a lie detector test if you want.”
“There’s no need for that,” he said quietly. “So, if it wasn’t you, who was it?” He looked at me. “Mrs. Fletcher, any ideas?”
I scanned the room, looking at the women. Susan and Jennifer huddled close to each other, watching the exchange. Lena’s eyes were focused on the pad in front of her, but she hadn’t written anything down. Cookie had her bag in her lap and was pawing through it in search of something. She located a little velvet pouch, pulled it open, and slipped on her new diamond ring and bracelet, and sat back, admiring her jewelry.
“Mrs. Fletcher?” he repeated.
“Lena, can you tell us where you were yesterday afternoon?” I asked.
“Why do you need to know, Jessica? She was with me,” Lance said, moving to stand near his assistant.
“No, she wasn’t, Lance. But she was on an assignment for you. Isn’t that right, Lena?”
“I . . . I don’t know what you mean, Mrs. Fletcher.” She tried to look me in the eye but immediately looked away.
“I understand you returned a wig to the Vanity Department this morning.”
Her cheeks flooded with color. “I . . . I found it on one of the sets.”
“Which set?” I asked.
“It was . . . let me see. . . . It must have been on Mr. Sevenson’s set.”
“I was setting up lights on his set this morning,” Ricky said. “It’s a bare room with a stool. I never saw any wig there.”
“What’s the big deal?” Lance said harshly. “She found a wig and returned it. She’s an honest person. What are you beating up on her for?”
“Where did you find the wig, Lena?” I asked.
“Well, maybe it wasn’t on your set,” she said, gazing up at Lance with pleading eyes. “Maybe it was in one of the rooms I passed on my way downstairs.” She took a breath and looked directly at me. “Anyway, I found it and I returned it to Maya,” she added, ending strongly.
“Maybe it was in your shoulder bag all the time,” I said, “and you returned it to Maya.”
“Why would she borrow a wig?” Jennifer asked.
“Because the wig was the same color as Betsy’s hair and she wanted to masquerade as her sister. That’s what you told Betsy’s neighbor when you were up there ransacking Betsy’s apartment. Isn’t that right, Lena? You told her neighbor that you were Betsy’s sister. I must say that you did a good job going through her apartment. You left it in quite a mess.”
She shook her head. “No, that’s not true.”
I reached into my pocket for the tissue I’d used to remove the bobby pins from the wig. “There were strands of hair left on the pins in the wig. If we analyze them, will we discover that they’re yours? They’re certainly the same color as your hair.”
“That means nothing. She could’ve tried on the wig before she returned it,” Lance said. “You need something better than that, Fletcher.”
“Lena, if Betsy’s neighbor is waiting outside,” I said, pointing to the door, “she could identify you, couldn’t she?”
Lena’s eyes flew to the door and her faced drained of color. “No, I don’t think so. She might say she saw me, but she doesn’t see so well.” She looked to Lance for confirmation, but he turned away from her, a disgusted look on his face.
“And how do you know that the neighbor doesn’t see very well?” I asked.
Lena’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“Perhaps,” I continued, “you noticed that she wore thick glasses when she stopped you outside Betsy’s door.”
“I don’t see that good either,” Ricky said, pressing a finger against his glasses, “but I’d recognize you if I saw you again.”
“How did you get into Miss Archibald’s apartment?” Chesny asked.
Lena dropped her head.
“You took the keys from Betsy’s bag, didn’t you?” I said. “And you returned them this morning.”
“She was the only one who came into the production office today, other than you, Mrs. Fletcher,” Susan put in.
“I wasn’t about to let them watch my bag anymore,” Anne said, “not when things go missing in that office.”
“Wait a minute,” Kevin said. “I don’t understand something here.” He addressed Lena. “Why did you go through Betsy’s apartment? What were you looking for?”
“Maybe Lance can tell you,” I said.
“It’s private,” he barked. “Nothing to do with anyone here.” Lance stood and paced the room. “Betsy had some of my papers, that’s all. I wanted them back. I didn’t want some stranger cleaning up her apartment and finding them. So I sent Lena to get them. But I didn’t tell her to wreck the place. What the hell were you thinking?”
“The old woman was calling the police,” Lena said. “I didn’t have time to be neat. And you got them back, didn’t you?”
“Is this what you got back, Mr. Sevenson?” Detective Chesny said, holding up the papers that Detective Marshall had faxed me. He handed them to Sevenson, who quickly flipped through them.
“Where did you get those?” Lance said.
“What’s in it?” Cookie said, her attention finally drawn away from her diamonds.
“That’s private information, not for public consumption,” Lance said, glaring at Chesny. “We can discuss this in private, can we not? I’d like a lawyer present.”
“Betsy blackmailed you into doing the commercials, didn’t she?” I said to Lance. “She knew of your past and held it over your head.”
“If you don’t mind, Jessica,” he responded, “I’d prefer not to discuss this in public.”
“Did she also demand money from you with the promise that she wouldn’t tell the world your secrets?”
“Oh, no, my Betsy would never do such a thing,” Antonio said, rushing to defend her.
“Wouldn’t she?” Lance said acidly. “That witch would do anything to push her career. Yes, she pressured me to do the spots. And I agreed on one condition, that she kept what she knew about me to herself. My career depends on people believing in me. She threatened to sell a nasty story to the tabloids. I kept my part of the bargain, and I was going to make sure she kept hers.”
“Blackmail is a good motive for murder,” Kevin said triumphantly. “Isn’t that so, Detective Chesny?”
“So is revenge,” Lance shot back. “She was about to bolt from your agency and take your best clients with her. She bragged to me about that. If you didn’t want her to walk away with the prize pig”—he pointed to Antonio—“you could’ve decided to take her out of the picture, for good.”
All eyes turned to Antonio. “Yes, yes,” he said hesitantly. “She did want me to go. I tell her I think about it.”
“Tonio! How could you even consider it? We’ve known each other for such a long time,” Kevin said, obviously wounded.
“Yes. Yes. Your father was my friend. But this was business, Kevin. She has the ideas, no? And so passionate, so beautiful. But I think that maybe I would not go. I didn’t tell her that.” He wiped his upper lip with his handkerchief. “Now, it doesn’t matter.”
“Maybe not to you,” Kevin said.
Anne pulled her red quilted purse into her lap, opened the flap, and checked its contents. Satisfied, she closed it again. “I assume I’m free to go,” she said, standing.
“Not just yet,” I said.
Chesny looked at me and raised his eyebrows at what I would say next.
“Does Kevin know the subject of your new book?”
Both Anne and Kevin looked quizzically at me.
I said to Kevin, “I assume that because you and Ms. Tripper live together, you know the contents of the book she’s been writing.”
“Of course I know,” he said. “It’s going to be a bestseller. Right, honey? It’s a departure from her usual style. It’s about how advertising and marketing fuel the engine of the economy, keep things humming.”
“Care to disillusion him, Anne?” I asked.
“What’s in my book is none of your business,” she snapped.
“You’re right,” I said. “But it would be Kevin’s business. It’s about his industry after all, but it’s not such a flattering picture as you’ve led him to believe, is it?”
“What are you talking about?” Kevin said, pulling at my elbow.
I shook him off and focused on Anne. “I wondered whether he knew your true intentions,” I said, “because if Betsy had discovered them and threatened to tell Kevin—perhaps as a fitting revenge for your stealing him away from her—it might have been sufficient motive for you to kill her to ensure her silence.”
“Wait a minute,” Kevin said, addressing Anne. “Is what Mrs. Fletcher is saying true? Is this just another of your exposés? You swore to me it wasn’t.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, a cruel smile on her face.
“The hell it doesn’t,” he exploded.“It matters a lot to me. Is that why you moved in with me, to learn what I know about the ad business, tell you the inside secrets, introduce you to my friends, just so you could betray them? Betray me? You went off to that studio every day to write. To keep me from seeing your work. Oh, no, I was never to look at it before publication. Bad luck, you said. And I bought it. All the while you were tearing apart a business I love. You’re despicable!”
She laughed. “Oh, Kevin, you are such a jerk. How I could put up with your ego for so many months is a tribute to my dedication to my project. Yes, the book uncovers the real motives behind advertising, and its truth twisters, including you.”
“You’ve said enough, Anne,” Kevin said, fists clenched, his mouth a slash across his face. “We’ll discuss this at home later.”
Anne blew a little puff of air through her lips. “You’ll find I’m already gone from the apartment when you get home tonight. Ciao, baby. I’d like to say it’s been good to know you, but that would be a lie.” She plopped back down in her chair, long legs crossed, one foot moving up and down.
Kevin’s eyes were wide with fury. For a moment, it appeared that he was about to physically attack her. But he backed away, mumbled curses under his breath, and stalked to a corner of the room.
Chesny looked at me. “Mrs. Fletcher, our next move?”