Jane sat cross-legged in the center of an oversized upholstered chaise, going through the file on Gordon Luberman. Joanna had not only consented to allow Jane to help Nolan on the case, she was actually enthusiastic about it. She was impressed by Nolan’s credentials but said she didn’t know him from Adam. She did know and trust Jane, and that went a long way toward easing her mind.
“Knock knock,” came Cordelia’s voice from outside the mahogany velvet theater curtain.
Cordelia had suggested that Jane commandeer the raised stage at the back of the loft for the duration of her stay. In the past, Cordelia had used it for impromptu performances, generally when she’d invited her theater friends over for dinner. At the moment, it was being used for storage—everything Cordelia couldn’t bring herself to toss but that didn’t fit with the new Swedish modern look of her place. Even with all the storage boxes and furniture, there was still plenty of room for Jane to stretch out, lots of lamps to choose from, and an exceptionally comfortable oversized corduroy-covered chaise to sleep on. The stage was maybe thirty feet long by ten feet wide. And it afforded more privacy than any other section of the loft. Mouse was nestled into a quilt next to the chaise. Like Jane, he was adaptable.
“Come in,” she whispered. It was just after eleven. Hattie and her nanny, Cecily Finch, had already gone to bed. Jane had left the club earlier than normal because she wanted to get to work on the file.
Cordelia poked her head through the curtain, looked around briefly to make sure nothing would fall on her, then pushed her way through. “Yuck,” she said, brushing off her black velvet evening gown. “It’s dusty in here.”
“Good thing I can live with dust.”
“That’s exactly the pioneering spirit I’ve come to know and love about you, Janey.” She batted at a cobweb. Her gown had the requisite deep, plunging neckline, but this one was new. It had a thick row of silver sequins starting at the top and swirling all the way around the dress several times until it reached the bottom hem. Cordelia might have said bye-bye to her size-eighteen clothes when she was in her teens, but she was still a voluptuous beauty by anyone’s standards.
“From the way you’re dressed, I take it you’re getting back from the Laundromat,” said Jane, glancing at the gown.
“How nice that you find yourself so amusing.”
“Mouse thinks I’m funny, too.”
“Splendid. I always take my humor cues from Labrador retrievers.” Cordelia fluffed her long auburn curls as she lowered herself into a rickety director’s chair. She nodded to the file. “I thought you might need some help. As a deeply compassionate friend, it pains me to see Joanna in such turmoil.”
Jane flipped through a bunch of photos, pausing to look at one.
Cordelia was off the director’s chair in a flash. Plunking down next to her, she said, “Let me see those.”
Jane handed her the one she was looking at.
“Wow, he was good-looking, if you like blonds with big muscles and equally big teeth.”
“You’ve never seen a picture of him before?”
“Never.”
That surprised her. “Well, this particular photo was taken a few days after Joanna met him. There’s a date on the back of the picture. Now look at this one.” She pulled another one out of the pile.
“He’s older here,” said Cordelia. “Leaner, but he looks even more pumped. When was this taken?”
“Shortly after he got out of prison in July of 1998. Most of the photos were shot by the PI Joanna hired to keep tabs on him. His name was Petrosik. He lived in Appleton, which was close to where Luberman headed when he got out. Luberman moved in with his mother. Apparently, this Petrosik kept tabs on him until his mother died in 2002. Right after the funeral, he turned in his last report.”
“Did Luberman, like, do anything criminal during that time?”
“Petrosik said he was living a quiet life.”
“Define quiet.”
“No arrests. No documented run-ins with the law.”
“What else?”
“Well, according to what I read, he liked to fish. Bought himself a used houseboat a few weeks after he returned home. Petrosik said he would take it out on Lake Winneconne around dusk and spend the night on the water.”
“Did this investigator watch him all the time?”
“I doubt it. But he did spend a few evenings sitting by the shore, watching to see if Luberman came back. He didn’t.”
“What if he anchored the boat, then swam back to another spot? That would give him the entire evening to himself—free as a bird to do whatever he wanted.”
“But without wheels. His mother’s car was back at the boat landing.”
“Maybe he had a girlfriend. She picked him up.”
“That’s an interesting point. There was a note here that a woman in a nearby town—” Jane paged through the file. “Yeah, here it is. Her name was Mandy Kiskanen. She lived in Poygan, another small town close to Winneconne. She was single, in her early thirties. She worked at a restaurant in Winneconne. Her friends all said she never dated, although one of them insisted that she’d been over to Mandy’s place one night and a man was in the bedroom. She could smell aftershave, and there was a man’s red-and-black hunting jacket on the couch. Apparently, Mandy hustled her out almost immediately. And then, seven months later, Mandy’s body was found
washed ashore on Lake Poygan. She’d been strangled. The murderer was never found.”
“You think Luberman did it?”
“I think it’s possible, not that he’d ever murdered anyone before.”
“Did Petrosik make that connection?”
“He said that Luberman often wore a red-and-black hunting jacket. But then, lots of men do. Nobody had ever seen them together. According to Petrosik, he spent a lot of time turning his mother’s front and back yards into a garden masterpiece. There was even a feature article on it in the local paper.”
“Oh, joy,” said Cordelia. “Every neighborhood needs a psychopathic gardener.” She tapped a finger against her cheek. “So, we don’t have any info on the last two years?”
“Not in this file. And there’s basically nothing on the trial. If you recall, part of the plea bargain was that the details would be sealed. In one of Petrosik’s early reports, he mentions that he’s sure Luberman spotted him. If Luberman knew he was being tailed, he’d be on his best behavior—as long as he was being watched.”
“Thus the houseboat. A way to leave prying eyes behind.”
“Maybe. I just wish I knew more about what happened all those years ago.” Jane let her words hang in the air, waiting to see if she could get Cordelia to break her silence.
Cordelia sat still for a few seconds, then pressed her hands to the sides of her face and groaned. “Lord, if I wasn’t the poster child for moral integrity, the tales I could tell you.”
“You can’t tell me anything?”
“Janey, she’s embarrassed and appalled by what she did. Can you blame her?”
“Okay, but can you just tell me this? I know Luberman stalked her, but … were they ever lovers?”
Cordelia shook her head. “I promised. I mean, I’m dying here. I’d like to tell you the whole megillah, but … I can’t.”
“It’s just … if it wasn’t Luberman, I wonder if someone else sent her the roses innocently. You know, just a fan. Or, on the other hand, maybe they were sent to rattle her. A copycat crime?”
“Not possible. The rose thing was never made public. Joanna made sure it was kept a secret.”
Jane finished off her brandy and soda.
“Well,” said Cordelia, slapping her thighs and getting up, “better go check on Hattie. You wanna come with me?”
“To do what?”
“Watch her sleep.”
Jane wanted another drink, and Hattie’s room was on the way.
“Sure. Why not.”
As Cordelia edged into the room, she motioned for Jane to follow. “Look,” she whispered, standing over Hattie’s bed. The little girl was lying on her side amid a sea of pink covers, her right arm circling a scruffy gray puppet, her left hand curled softly under her chin. “Isn’t that the most staggeringly beautiful sight you’ve ever seen?”
Jane smiled, slipping a hand over Cordelia’s shoulder.
“I’ve finally found the love of my life. Who knew it would be a kid?”
“Have you heard from Octavia recently?”
Octavia Thorn Lester was Cordelia’s younger sister—Hattie’s mother.
“She’s in London.”
“Doing what?”
“Being important.”
After acting on Broadway for many years, Octavia was now off pursuing a career in film. She had brought Hattie to a location shoot in Switzerland last year, but when it was over, she sent Hattie back to stay with Cordelia. It was all supposed to be temporary—nothing formal had been worked out—but Cordelia assumed that Hattie would spend the rest of her childhood in Minnesota, which was fine with her. Octavia was always fluttering off to do something glitzy and important for her career. Or she was between houses. Or she was jetting off somewhere with the current man in her life and felt that Hattie would just be bored. The excuses were endless and obvious: Octavia had no time in her life for her daughter.
As Jane edged out of the room, she saw Cordelia bend down, pull the covers up over Hattie’s shoulder, and then kiss her lightly on the
forehead. Who would have ever guessed that a child-loathing, curmudgeonly old theater director, one who regularly fumed about ankle biters and rug rats, a person whose life had been focused on a single theme since she was old enough to recognize a stage, would become the living embodiment of Auntie Mame? Well, thought Jane, maybe, in the final analysis, it would turn out to be the part Cordelia was born to play.
Bel Air, California
Six days later
Joanna wasn’t awake, but she wasn’t asleep. She was somewhere in that in between state where her mind drifted. She could feel Gordon’s strong arms around her, holding her against him, his soft breathing matching the rise and fall of her own breaths. In this fuzzy state, she slipped back easily to the last few days, walking along the beach together, laughing at the most silly, inane things, eating at strange new restaurants along the coast highway. It was all a jumble and a blur, but even in her altered state, she knew she was happy. Happier than she’d ever been.
Opening her eyes, the bedroom slowly came into focus. The bright morning light slanted in through the shades, throwing a pattern of lines across the bouquet of red roses on the dresser. Gordon had bought them for her after their first night together. Joanna still marveled at the way he treated her. There was none of the typical deference or desire to impress that usually attended her sexual encounters. At first, Gordon’s behavior had intrigued her, but now it felt more like drinking a cold glass of water on a hot summer day. It had been a long time since she’d met a man who wasn’t impressed by her name, who saw her for what she was—flaws and all.
Turning on his back, Gordon stretched and flexed his leg muscles. Without opening his eyes, he drew her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Happy birthday, Jo.”
“You remembered.”
“Of course, I remembered. What time is the party?”
“Two. It’ll just be the four of us.”
David and Diego had arrived home late last night, obviously amused to find Gordon and Joanna in the pool together. David raised his eyebrows as Joanna introduced Gordon. Diego just smirked. She knew what they were thinking: Gordon was simply one more boy toy in an endless stream of boy toys. They didn’t stick around the pool for more than a couple of minutes. They probably figured Joanna wanted some privacy.
“Your brother and that guy—”
“Diego.”
“Yeah. Is he a buddy? A business partner?”
“They’re lovers. Or … partners, I guess. They’ve been together for five years.”
“They’re gay?” Gordon turned on his side to look at her. “Your brother’s a homosexual?”
“That surprises you?”
He stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged. “No. I suppose not.”
“David’s hired a caterer. We’re having all my favorite food. Shrimp. Pasta primavera. Chocolate cake. I’m sure as hell not about to watch my diet on my thirty-second birthday.”
“Don’t swear, Jo. It’s crude.”
“You swear all the time.”
“I try not to.”
She kissed his nose. “For you, I’ll make the effort. But I can’t promise total compliance.”
His arms encircled her. “Can I tell you something?”
“Sure. Anything.”
His expression grew serious. “I’ve never said this to a woman before, but … I think … I think I’m falling in love with you. Falling hard. Does that worry you?”
Hell no, she thought. But she said, “Why would it? I feel exactly the same way.”
“You do?”
“Can’t you tell?”
“This isn’t a casual thing for me.”
“For me either.”
He brushed his fingertips across her face. “I want to be with you forever, Jo. For eternity. I want us to make a life together, to always be there for each other, no matter what happens. And there will be bad patches. Always are. But we’ll get through them because of our love and our commitment.”
“You beautiful man,” she said, kissing him softly.
“I’ll never say that in front of a priest or a judge,” he whispered. “It’s just between you and me. That’s all we’ll ever need.”
“Okay,” she whispered back.
“Because, I don’t want to get married,” he continued, pulling away from her. “Is that a problem?”
She laughed. “None whatsoever.”
Gordon was gone for a few hours, but he returned right before the party, his arms full of fresh red roses. He kissed Joanna, then went to find a vase to put them in.
They walked down to the bungalow together. As they came through the front door, they found David and Diego sitting in the living room. Both got up and gave them a stiff greeting. The food was all laid out on the table. Balloons and crepe paper decorated both the living and dining rooms. Everything looked festive—except for David and Diego.
“Something wrong?” asked Joanna, linking her arm through her brother’s.
“What could be wrong?” asked David.
His curt tone made her want to say “ouch.” She put it down to a lovers’ quarrel. David and Diego occasionally got into it. But then, after a few days, they always got over it—whatever “it” was. The fact that they were pissed at each other on her birthday was bad timing, but she shrugged it off. Nothing was going to ruin this day for her.
By four the presents had all been opened and the food was pretty much gone. They sat around the dining room table, drinking the last of the champagne and picking at the dregs of the cake. Both David and Diego had consumed more than their share of champagne. Joanna could tell that Gordon, who didn’t drink, was pretty disgusted by them.
“Let’s toast,” said David, raising his glass.
“I can’t toast,” said Diego.
“Why the hell not?”
He tipped his glass over. “Empty.”
“Not a problem.” David pushed away from the table and disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with an already open bottle of chenin blanc. “Here,” he said, filling up Diego’s glass. “Joanna?”
“She’s had enough,” said Gordon.
David shrugged and filled his own glass to the brim. Raising it high he said, “To Jo and Gordo. May they ride off into the red, white, and blue sunset together.”
“Not a rainbow sunset?” asked Diego.
“No way,” said David. “That’s only for perverts like us.”
“David?” said Joanna, her eyes searching his. “Look, if you guys are in the middle of a snit, that’s between you, but could you do it later? This is supposed to be a celebration.”
“Oh, we’re celebrating,” said Diego.
“Absolutely,” said David.
“You could have fooled me,” said Gordon.
David leaned over and draped his arm around Joanna’s shoulders. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go.
“My sister. The great actress. Too bad she isn’t a better human being.”
“That’s it,” said Gordon, standing up. “Joanna, let’s go.”
Joanna’s head was spinning. Gordon was right. She’d had too much to drink. But that didn’t explain what her brother had just said. “David, what’s wrong with you?”
“Everything, Sis. Absolutely everything.”
“Joanna, come on,” said Gordon, yanking at her arm. “Let them drink themselves into a stupor. We’ve got better things to do.”
Still glaring at her brother, Joanna got up. “We’ll talk about this later.” “Bye,” said Diego, waving at her like a prom queen.
“Yeah, ba’ bye,” said David, doing his stewardess imitation.
David’s eyes looked so red that for a moment Joanna wondered if he was about to cry. She didn’t want to leave him if he was truly in pain—if he and
Diego were about to break up or something—but he was being so abusive, leaving was probably for the best.
Joanna turned away and let Gordon lead her out, which, as it turned out, was one of the worst mistakes of her life.