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Jessie shared her husband’s distaste for the man. The way he spoke, she had doubts about whether he’d ever loved Ava at all. Had he only married her for her parents’ fortune? Had he killed her for it? Even if he was innocent of murder, he was guilty of being a scumbag. She did her best to set aside the disdain she felt and stay focused on getting answers.
“So that’s what the unaccounted $34,000 was for?” she asked, hoping to steer clear of Ryan’s snideness, which she feared might shut Buhner down.
“Yes,” he said, surprised. “How did you know about that?”
“We’ll need to confirm all of this,” she replied, pointedly not answering him. “What’s the woman’s name?”
Buhner hesitated for a second before muttering, “Daisy Sunshine.”
Jessie turned to Ryan, making sure not to betray any emotion that Buhner might pick up on.
“Maybe we can have Gaylene Parker check with her old unit,” she suggested. “If this woman worked out of the downtown area near Central Station, she’s bound to be familiar to some of the folks from Vice.”
“It’s worth a shot,” Ryan agreed, before looking back at Buhner. “All right, let’s go.”
“Where?” the man asked.
“The station,” Ryan told him.
“Wait,” Buhner pleaded. “I told the truth. I thought you said you wouldn’t arrest me.”
“We’re not formally arresting you,” Ryan said, “At least not for solicitation. We wouldn’t pursue a case like that if you weren’t caught in the act anyway. But we are asking you to come in voluntarily, without cuffs on your wrists. We’re doing that for the sake of your wife’s memory—to avoid the inevitable rumors and whispers that might be sidestepped if your story holds up. But if you object, then I will arrest you. And I’ll drag you down these halls if I have to.”
“No, I’ll come,” Buhner said, and then he began to cry.
Suddenly Jessie felt nauseated again, but this time, it was for a very different reason.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rhett Kirby was in full-on charm mode.
He knew that a small part of that was attributable to the two mixed drinks he’d had, but he felt confident that most of it was a natural byproduct of his own personal magnetism. And while he tried not to be a jerk about it, he knew his broad shoulders, square jaw, and friendly smile didn’t hurt either.
He’d need all his powers, both personal and physical, to be on full display, especially tonight. After all, this evening’s get-together wasn’t just intended as a small, pre-Thanksgiving party for neighborhood friends, it was also another opportunity to mingle with potential new clients for his law firm. As far as he was concerned, every conversation was a chance to secure another billing.
Of course, tonight was proving especially challenging on that front, although it was for a very good reason. When he and his wife and law partner, Nina, had scheduled this little shindig last week, they couldn’t possibly have known that it would fall on the same day that one of their neighbors and friends, Ava Martell, was found murdered.
They’d briefly considered cancelling the event, but ultimately decided that life had to go on, as did business. And for a little while at least, he was heartened when he realized that people were using the soiree as a chance to reminisce about Ava. She was certainly deserving of the affection everyone had for her, even if the people here all seemed to suddenly be claiming that they had been besties with her. Very convenient.
But after an hour of that, and even though he felt guilty about it, Rhett found himself getting mildly annoyed. Ava was all anyone would talk about, which made it incredibly hard to segue into conversations about wills and trusts and real estate transactions.
He felt borderline heartless, especially since his wife had been one of the last people to spend quality time with Ava before her passing. Nina was doing okay with it, at least on the surface.
She was across the drawing room, immersed in an involved conversation with Charlotte Stevenson, who was known to be both extremely wealthy and a generous patron of the arts. If she had money to give away, Rhett thought that some of it might reasonably be spent on Kirby & Kirby Law Partners.
Again, he was overcome by a wave of guilt, bordering on self-disgust, at how willing he was to use what was essentially a wake as a professional networking opportunity. But this enormous house, in all its grandeur, wouldn’t pay for itself. Nor would it cover the cost of the catering company tonight. Or their cars. Bills would come due. So he shook off the invisible cloak of shame and plowed ahead.
He caught sight of Gabriella Silva selecting a passed hors d’oeuvre from a waiter and decided that she was as good a place to start as any. Gabriella, or Gabby, as she liked to be called, lived just two blocks away.
Recently divorced, she had apparently done well in the settlement, getting the mansion and an eye-popping alimony payment. Rhett walked over to her, feeling the confidence emanate off him. He tried to channel that energy because he really needed to snag her business.
“Enjoying the treats, Gabby?’ he asked.
She swallowed the last of her bite before responding.
“Maybe a little too much,” she admitted. “This cheese is decadent. What is it?”
“To be honest, I have no idea,” he said. “Nina planned the menu with the caterer. I just nodded at all her suggestions.”
