MARIA didn’t answer the door. She turned, considering, and then thought better of it. Her experiences at the Craters’ apartment in recent weeks had taught her to leave well enough alone. No more covering for her boss. No more reporters. No more surprises. So she stayed where she was, teetering three feet off the ground on a wooden step stool, wiping dust from the top of Mr. Crater’s bookshelves with a rag.
She’d taken to lingering over her work in recent days, trying to earn her paycheck—assuming Mrs. Crater actually mailed it. With Mr. Crater missing and Mrs. Crater hiding in Maine, there was no grocery shopping to do or fancy dinner parties to cook for. There were no trips to the cleaners or ill-fitting clothes to return to the high-end department stores they frequented. No laundry. No dishes. Maria was forced to get creative with ways to make up her time.
The front door rattled again with an insistent pounding. A short silence. And then a key turned in the lock.
Maria leaned forward to see the front door swing inward, followed by Jude’s partner, Leo Lowenthall. She climbed down from the stool and slipped back into her shoes. “Hello?”
Leo stepped into the office, accompanied by three NYPD officers. “You didn’t answer the door,” he said, offended.
“It isn’t my home.”
“No.” Leo eyed her uniform. “It’s your job.”
She looked at the key in his hand. “Where did you get that?”
Leo gave her a smug grin but didn’t answer the question. He strode across the office and thrust a piece of paper in her face.
“A search warrant.”
Maria plucked it from his hand and read the court order.
“We’ll start in here,” Leo said, pushing her aside.
She stood back as they began going through the papers on Mr. Crater’s desk. Drawer after drawer was opened, but not shut. They hauled books from the shelves, flipped through the pages, and tossed them to the floor until an entire library of legal volumes lay with cracked spines across the Oriental rug. At first she trailed behind them, protesting and attempting to keep the chaos at bay, but as Leo and his men spread across the apartment, Maria shrank back, appalled.
“Does Mrs. Crater know you’re here?” she demanded when she found him in the master bedroom, pulling clothes off the hangers and digging through the pockets.
Leo didn’t answer. He turned a red evening gown inside out, dropped it to the floor, and then kicked it out of the way. It landed in a crimson heap beneath the window. “How often do you work here?” he asked.
“Every morning when the Craters are in town. A bit less now that they’re in Maine.” Maria crossed the room and snatched the dress off the floor. “Can’t you be more careful?”
“Has anyone been here recently?” Leo lifted a pile of silk stockings from a blue satin bag and ran them through his fingers, searching for hidden objects.
How to answer that question? You. My husband. A naked showgirl. “Only a reporter,” she said. “And Mrs. Crater came back for a weekend.”
“You haven’t let anyone in?”
“No.”
“But you talked to that reporter?” Leo left the closet door open and clothing piled on the floor and moved toward the bed.
“Briefly.”
He yanked the coverlet right off the mattress. “Why?”
“Stop that!” She reached out and grabbed it from him. “You’re destroying the place.”
Leo swiftly turned on her, and Maria found herself shoved against the wall, staring up into his wide, dark eyes. His jaw jutted to the side, and he searched her face, appearing to relish the fear he saw there.
“Did he pay you?”
“George Hall.”
“Of course not!”
“Then why give him those details? You wouldn’t even open the door for me, but you tell secrets about your employer to the first newshound that drops by?”
Maria tried to slide away from him, but Leo blocked her with an arm. She grasped Mrs. Crater’s red dress and the coverlet to her chest like a buffer, but he ripped them out of her clenched fists and threw them to the floor. He inched closer and tugged at a stray curl that had slipped loose beneath her cap. She jerked her head away.
“You’re very pretty, Maria,” he whispered. “No wonder Jude is always in a rush to get home.”
Maria turned her face from the warmth of his breath.
“Or should I call you Amedia? That’s the name you gave the reporter, right?”
The other detectives were spread throughout the apartment, opening cupboard doors and pulling things from shelves. She glanced at the bedroom door—only two feet away—but Leo forced it shut with the heel of one hand. He flipped the lock and turned his carnal gaze back to Maria. He blocked her in with both arms.
Maria pushed at him, panicked and angry, but he didn’t budge. “Let me go.”
Leo dropped one hand to her thigh and slid it around to grab her backside.
“Stop it!” She thrashed against him, but he pinned her to the wall with his torso.
“Word around the office is that you begged Crater for Jude’s little promotion. Did you do anything else for him? You look like his type.”
“Of course not!”
“Jude would have never gotten the job otherwise, you know. Too many damn scruples. You must have really made an impression on Crater.”
Maria could hear the pounding of her heart and the blood rushing through her ears. She tried to bring her knee up into his crotch, but her entire body was pinned by the length of his. The more she fought against him, the more her dress bunched and rose up her legs.
Leo’s fingers found her hemline.
“What did you do with those envelopes?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not. I swear to God I’m not.” Maria’s voice broke, and she tugged at the bottom of her dress. “Leave me alone, please.”
Leo’s breath was hot against her ear. “You think I didn’t know you were here that day? That I didn’t see you between the slats, hiding in the closet?” He wedged his elbow into the soft spot between her shoulder and breast. “What do you think Jude would say if he knew you were spying on him?”
Maria let out a sharp gasp of pain and tried to wiggle away.
Leo laughed. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“No.”
“Those envelopes are gone. You must have told someone. That reporter, maybe?”
Maria wanted to spit at him, to scream that she wasn’t stupid. That she’d been married to a cop long enough to know that people who ran their mouths didn’t last long in this city. “I didn’t.”
Leo lowered his elbow and studied her face. “And you’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”
“No.”
“Because if you do, you’re going to end up just like your employer. Missing. Or worse. Understand?”
Her answer rushed out in a panicked breath. “Yes.”
Leo stepped away and she stumbled forward.
“You talk about this to anyone, and poof!” He made a vanishing gesture with his hands. “You disappear. Owney can make it happen.”
“I believe you.”
“The thing is”—Leo reached out and patted her cheek—“Owney needs that husband of yours to do what he’s told. And if Jude finds out about our little chat, he might not want to take orders anymore. Do you see how that could be a problem?”
Maria stepped away from his touch. She wrapped her arms around her chest and blinked furiously against the tears that burned her eyes.
“So you keep this conversation between us. Because if Jude becomes a problem, I can make sure he gets the kiss-off as well. Got that?”
“Good girl. Now clean up this mess.” Leo unlocked the door and jerked it open. “C’mon, boys. Let’s make tracks. There’s nothing to find here.”
She heard them kicking things out of their way as they tromped toward the front door. It creaked open and then slammed shut so hard the wall rattled.
Maria waited for several long minutes, listening to her heart settle, and then tiptoed into the living room. The apartment was in shambles. Furniture overturned. Drawers emptied. The contents of every closet, cupboard, and cabinet jettisoned across the hardwood floor. Although they were careful not to actually break anything, it looked as though the apartment had been burglarized.
Maria closed her eyes and slid down the living room wall. She crumpled to the floor with a choked sob.