Toni turned and ran, just as before, out of the room, away from the horror. Strong, knobby hands closed around her arms, and she collided with the cabbie.
“Miss Bradshaw! Hey, Miss Bradshaw!”
She struggled to get away, then reality returned. The stiffness dissolved from her body.
“What’sa matter? Are you okay? What happened?” He released her and went past her into the den. “Jee-sus! Is she dead or what?”
Toni had to get away. She continued through the vestibule and then out the front door into a dense wall of heat and humidity. Cars streamed by on the street, their exhaust fumes mingling with the already foul, moist air. Two children, apparently playing tag, raced by. A woman pushing a baby stroller along the sidewalk looked up curiously but didn’t slow her pace.
Toni paused on the top step, her mouth dry as dust, her breathing uneven, her heart leaping like a pogo stick in her chest. The scene inside the house, a lifeless body lying on the floor like a discarded toy, was indelibly etched into her mind. Suzanne Landis. Someone had killed her. Just like Craig. And Toni had become part of that nightmare, too. Who had done it? Why?
One thing she knew for certain. She had to get control of herself. The police would have to be called. Perhaps the detectives in charge of Craig’s murder investigation. She might even be arrested this time.
The cab driver reappeared. “Miss Bradshaw …. Excuse me, I forgot ya’ real name. I used the phone inside and called the police.” His hand cupped her elbow. “Come sit in the cab until they get here. You ain’t in such good shape.”
“I’ll be all right. Just give me a minute.” She took several deep breaths, like she always did before making her entrance on stage. It helped to calm her nerves.
“I didn’t kill her.” As Toni spoke, her voice gained strength, the tension lessening with each breath.
“I know you di’nt. She was stabbed with a knife. No offense, but I looked at ya pretty good. You know, before ya got in my cab, and there ain’t no way you coulda hid such a big knife on ya.” His gaze settled on Toni’s slim summer dress. “Or in that little bag what hung from yer shoulder. Besides, you ain’t got no blood on ya.”
A large knife? An image of the empty slot in the wooden block on her kitchen counter sprang before her eyes.
“Did it have a black handle?”
“All knives got black handles, don’t they? I dunno. All I know is you better sit down inside my cab. You look like yer gonna faint. Hell, I feel like I’m gonna faint. Twelve years I been drivin’ a cab. I seen a lot of stuff. Shootings, fights, pimps, but I never seen no woman with a knife in her before.”
Toni climbed into the back seat gratefully, letting the icy blast of cold air flow over her face and neck. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying not to think about Suzanne. There would be plenty of time for that later. Almost at once, the distant sound of police sirens intruded.
* * *
Toni sat on one side of the modern straight-lined sofa in Suzanne Landis’s living room. Detective Devine sat in front of her, looking uncomfortable and out of place on a mauve plush side chair. Police photographers and other specialists—the coroner, she supposed—occupied the den. Two men, a stretcher at their feet, stood smoking in the hallway, waiting for permission to remove the body.
Michael, whom she called from her cellphone, arrived only moments before and sat at her side. Zdenek Novotny, her cab driver, leaned against a wall in the corner.
“What brought you to Landis’s house?” Devine’s eyes drilled into Toni’s.
She told him about the phone call she’d received, ostensibly from Suzanne, to come to her house. “Naturally, I came here immediately to talk with her. Instead I found her dead.” Toni’s strong tone was meant to convince Devine that she had nothing to do with Suzanne’s murder.
“Tell me what happened once you arrived.” Devine’s voice rang firm with authority.
Toni related everything she’d done from the moment the cab stopped at the curb.
After she finished, Novotny added, “She couldna’ killed her, ’cause she was only outta my sight a minute, two minutes tops. I told that to the other cops when they got here.”
The detective silenced him with a stern glance in his direction, then turned back to Toni again. “You say the door was closed, but not locked.”
“The outer door, yes. When I turned the knob, it opened.”
“And the inner door between the vestibule and the living room was standing open and there was a key in it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know whose key that was?”
“I assumed it was Suzanne’s.”
“Even though she had one on a ring in her purse.”
Toni shook her head. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“Did you have a key to the place?”
“Of course not.”
Michael spoke up. “Several people might have had keys. Craig Landis’s partner, Ted Flax, for one. Or relatives of his or his wife’s. Any number of people.”
A plainclothesman came in and spoke quietly to Devine, giving Toni an opportunity to talk to Michael privately.
“What about Kristianna? Suzanne was touring Europe for a month last spring. It would be just like Craig to give Kristianna a key to use whenever his wife was away. Perhaps, if the model believed Suzanne could prevent her from getting support for her baby ….” She let the obvious conclusion hang in the air.
“He wasn’t very discreet, was he?”
“Hardly.” Toni frowned. “What a wonderful world we live in.” She made no effort to hide the sarcasm in her voice.
When the other policeman left the room, Devine returned his attention to Toni and consulted his ever-present spiral notebook. “You saw the knife, realized she was dead, and ran out. Is that right?”
“There was so much blood. I think my reaction was a natural one—to get out of there as quickly as possible. For all I knew, the killer could still be in the house.”
“Did you hear anything?” the detective asked.
“No.”
“There’s evidence the perpetrator left by the back door. You didn’t hear that?”
“No.”
“The coroner figures she’s been dead less than an hour. The maid,” he glanced at the notebook again, “Conchita Gonzalez, arrived a few minutes ago. She says the knife didn’t come from this kitchen.”
“Is it the knife that was stolen from my apartment?” The question almost lodged in Toni’s throat.
Before Devine could answer, Michael said, “We reported it when someone broke into Miss Abbott’s apartment a week ago.”
“I’m aware of that, Counselor. I just wondered if Miss Abbott recognized the knife when she found the dead woman.”
Toni glanced down into her lap but didn’t see the wispy summer dress, whose hemline skimmed the tops of her knees. Instead, she saw Suzanne on the floor of the den, blood coating her back, the long black handle jutting from the blue silk of her blouse. She cleared her throat. “I saw the knife. I didn’t recognize it as mine, but it might have been.”
“That knife is hardly unique,” Michael said. “You can buy one in any store. Also, my client, as you can see, has no blood on her hands or clothing. That’s adequate proof she couldn’t have stabbed the victim.”
“Naw, she didn’t do nothin’ like that,” the cabbie added. “Except for them few seconds she was inside, I been with her all the time.”
The detective turned to Novotny and heaved a heavy sigh. “Your chance to speak is coming. Try to be patient until then.”
“Is my client free to go?” Michael asked.
“Yes, for the moment. I know where to reach you.”
Toni and Michael left the building and stepped out onto a sidewalk crowded with newspaper reporters and a curious public. She wondered how the media always seemed to find out about these things so quickly, and why anyone would stand under this hot sun just to get a glimpse of a corpse being carried out. The heat trapped in the concrete seemed to burn through the soles of her thin summer shoes.
However, the mounting curiosity was not merely for the dead woman. Anyone emerging from the house where someone had been killed became an instant target. Cameras were shoved at her, along with a jumble of screamed questions.
“Get in here, fast.” Michael pushed her into the back of Novotny’s still-parked cab and slammed the door. Reporters continued to shout at them, knocking on the windows to get their attention.
“How are we going to get out of this? We can’t sit here waiting for the driver.” Perspiration slid down her cheek. “Besides, it’s like a furnace in here.”
Michael leaned his tall frame over the front seat and reached for the radio connecting the taxi to its home base. In seconds, he ordered another cab to the scene. Then he fished out his wallet and dropped three twenties onto the front seat. “Novotny earned this.”
His being thoughtful and calm under pressure earned Toni’s additional admiration.
When they spotted the vehicle creeping slowly up the street, scattering the idle watchers, Michael said, “Get ready to run.” Then, “Now!”
He threw open the door on the street side and jumped out, turning back to grab Toni’s hand and pull her through. Her shoes slid briefly on the plastic mat, and she scrambled out. Together, they darted through the crowd to the other cab.
The driver grinned at them, as if he enjoyed his role in the drama even if he didn’t know the reason. “Where to, folks?”
“I could use a drink,” Michael said.
“You must be a mind reader.” While Michael gave directions to the driver, Toni closed her eyes to the chaos outside the window. Then she felt the cab move and gain speed. She sank back against the seat, her arms tightly hugging her body. Finally, she turned and looked at Michael.
“What if I’d gone to Suzanne’s an hour earlier? What if the killer had still been there?”
Michael took her hand and held it between both of his. “Don’t torture yourself over it. You didn’t, and you’re safe.”
“I have this awful feeling I might have cheated death again.” Her whole body tensed. “As if I’m playing Russian Roulette and found one more empty chamber.”