“Eric was murdered,” Diana said. “I’m sure of it.”
Jack sat at the edge of Diana’s desk. As she told him the details of her conversation with Billy, the doorman, he couldn’t help feeling that they were at the threshold of a series of revelations that ultimately would lead them to the person responsible for Celina’s death.
“Where is Billy now?” he asked.
“In the lobby. He goes on break in fifteen minutes. I asked him to come here when he clocks out.”
“You don’t think he’ll run, do you?”
“I doubt it,” she said. “Now, more than ever, he needs help. We’re it.”
Satisfied, Jack watched her reach inside her desk for a pen and pad of paper. She began to write. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Before we call George, I want to have my facts straight, so give me a minute to write them down and we’ll talk when I’m finished.”
Jack left the desk and moved to the window across the room that overlooked Central Park. The sky was darkening, rain was threatening. The wind blew smartly through the trees, causing their leaves to turn upwards, exposing a paler shade of green.
Diana dropped the pen onto the desk.
“Why?” she said. “Why would Mario De Cicco want to kill Eric? It makes no sense.”
Jack looked away from the window. The last time he heard mention of Mario De Cicco’s name was the night Eric was beaten. He told Diana this.
“Celina and Leana were there? Why didn’t they do something?”
“I assume it was because you were handling the situation.”
“Handling the situation?” Diana said. “I’d just been beaten. I was no more handling the situation than they were.” And then it occurred to her how odd it was that Leana was there. “Was Leana alone?” she asked.
“She was with two men.”
“What did they look like?”
“That was a while ago, Diana.”
She stared at him.
“I don’t know,” he said. “A couple of brutes. Black pants, black shirts.”
Diana’s mind flashed back to that evening. The two men who burst into Eric’s bedroom were wearing black.
“When Celina called out her sister’s name, they led Leana away,” he said. “It was then that Celina said Mario De Cicco’s name.”
Diana leaned back in her chair. “Two years ego, Leana had an affair with De Cicco. She came to my office one afternoon and told me that she was in love with him. I’ve always liked Leana. And I’ve always hated how George treats her. I think she senses this. We aren’t friends, but over the years, she would ask for my advice, or she’d drop in to say hello. I don’t know why she ever confided in me about her affair with De Cicco, but she did. Maybe she needed a sounding board. She doesn’t have many friends.”
“Was De Cicco in love with her?”
“No idea,” Diana said. “I told her to stay away from him, but she wouldn’t listen to me, as if that’s a surprise. Leana doesn’t listen to anybody.”
“Do you think she’s behind this?”
“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Diana said. “Yesterday, Eric told me that he and Leana almost slept with one another the night of Redman International’s opening. He told me that someone must have tipped Celina off to them, because she walked into the room and caught them in bed together.” She was quiet for a moment. “If Eric thought that person was Leana, there’s no telling what he’d do to her-or what he did to her, for that matter.”
“Like threatening her?”
“Maybe.”
“If he did and she went to De Cicco for help, there’s no telling what he’d do to Eric.”
It sounded plausible, but Diana knew better than to work on whims. “It’s a possibility,” she said. “And that’s all we’ve got-a possibility. At the very least, George should know what we know.” She glanced at her watch. “Billy should be here in a few minutes. Let’s call George now.”
She reached for the phone just as it rang. Diana answered it. “It’s Billy, Ms. Crane. A Mr. Timothy Parker is here to see you. Shall I show him up?”
Jack followed Diana out of the room and down the winding staircase.
“You know Eric’s younger brother?” he asked.
Diana nodded. “He’s studying law at Yale. This summer he’s taking a course on constitutional law and I’ve been helping him over the phone with his dissents. Eric’s parents are in their 80s and Tim probably came in their place to tend to Eric.”
They moved toward the foyer.
“Why would he be coming to you?”
Diana shrugged. “Tim knows Eric and I were seeing each other. I’m sure he knows what happened to Celina and thought that here was the logical place to come before going to the morgue.” She sensed what Jack was thinking, and said, “Don’t worry-he won’t stay long. The moment he leaves, we’re calling George.”
There was a tap at the door. Diana wondered how she would comfort Eric’s younger brother when she herself hadn’t dealt with Eric’s death. Deciding there was no best way, she turned the handle-and stumbled back when the door was kicked open.
Diana tipped over a side table and went down like a ten pin. Her head cracked against the slate floor. Her arm twisted painfully behind her.
The man who stormed inside was not Timothy Parker. This man was tall and dark, his features chiseled, black hair gleaming.
As Jack rushed forward to help Diana, the intruder shut the door behind him and removed a gun from his inside jacket pocket. He pressed it against Jack’s forehead.
As cool steel met flesh, their eyes met.
Vincent Spocatti cocked the trigger.
Recognition flashed across Jack Douglas' face.
This man was Celina’s murderer.