"Chamomile is good."
Kathy fussed with a mug and tea bag. "Sorry, I don't have any cookies."
"Tea is fine." April took the mug and put her nose into the steam. Hot was best, but she'd wait this time.
Outside the kitchen, they could hear the noise of men going through the house, talking to each other from different rooms, not making any effort to be quiet or show respect. April guessed there were three or four of them, and Mike was one of them. They were still working the upstairs, hadn't gotten to the basement yet. The doorbell rang again. Nobody answered it.
"Let's get back to the money. How were you and Bill handling it between the two of you?"
Kathy pressed her lips into a thin line. "We didn't talk about it."
"Gee, Kathy, this is hard to believe. If my dad got fifteen million dollars, I'd have an interest in it."
"I never said I wasn't interested. I said we didn't talk about it. You don't get it, do you?"
"No, Kathy, I don't get it. None of this is playing for me. Why don't you help me out?"
"Look, just don't patronize me. Mom died. We were dealing with that, okay? The money was a perk we didn't want to mix up with grieving. Like, Mom died, but hooray, we're rich. That may not make any sense to you. But that's how it was with us."
"That's what you thought." But that was exactly how it wasn't. April sipped the chamomile. By now she was wishing for that cookie. For a whole plate of cookies, but she never ate when she questioned. Kathy clammed up.
"Looks like you weren't in the loop. Your dad was cashing in the money big before he died. Four million of it. You said he thought of the money as yours…" She watched Kathy register betrayal.
The doorbell rang again. A look of irritation crossed Kathy's face. She licked her lips. "Where's the money?" she croaked out in a voice almost as fractured as April's.
"That's what I'm asking you."
Kathy shook her head. "I don't get it." But her face said she did.
"So what about Bill? Does he need money?"
"Who doesn't need money?" She rolled her eyes, trying to cover her own growing suspicion.
Good. April had her.
"Is he the kind of guy who'd hold out on his sister?" she asked.
Kathy collapsed inside. April could see her world breaking down. Right then she looked as grubby, unkempt, and highly unfemale as a very attractive person could get. Her body language said it all.
"We weren't close. Dad made us compete when we were kids. Bill was the one who got to law school. He was married, had the kids, got the perks, but he always resented me. You know how it is. Whatever bothers them, they don't get over it, right?"
The doorbell kept ringing. Kathy ignored it. "Yeah, I guess he might cheat me out of millions if he could get away with it, why not? But kill Daddy? Uh-uh."
"Maybe Daddy found out."
Kathy clicked her tongue. "Like you said, April. It isn't playing for me."
"Well, we'll figure it out."
"Is this the reason the Department isn't giving him his funeral? Possible gift-tax evasion? Isn't there, like, a three-million-dollar exemption anyway?" She clicked her tongue again.
"Not my area; I wouldn't know." April's voice was going again, but she believed Kathy's story.
Four detectives plowed through the kitchen on their way downstairs to the basement. It was clear from their faces that they hadn't found what they were looking for.
Twenty
An hour later Mike got into the passenger seat of April's car and slammed the door. Down the street a reporter from a local station had spotted them coming out of the neighbor's yard and started yelling. April could see the girl's open mouth. See her hand raised. She had big red lips and the kind of straight streaky blond hair many Asian girls envied. The reporter was wearing a photogenic outfit, a nice heather-colored jacket and lilac blouse. The pants didn't match perfectly, but it didn't matter because on camera she would never be seen below the waist. April opened the window for some air and heard her plea.
"Officer, give me a second. Just one." The woman was clearly yelling at Mike.
April gunned the engine and took off. "You coming with me, chico ? That would be nice."
"Only to the next stop sign," he said.
April slowed and cruised the next block of lovely brick houses with picture windows and pointy roofs. She wouldn't mind living out here, but who wouldn't?
"Okay, stop anywhere along here."
She slowed in front of a house with a good strong slate roof and a lucky red door. Too bad they were there too soon for the show of fat-budded peonies that were thickly bedded in little kidney-shaped plots, like commas, by the front walk. Next couple of weeks, in mid-June, they'd be out. Nice house, she thought.
She sighed. Six o'clock was always an in-between time. Not really day anymore, but not yet evening either. Today at six again it was still bright as morning. On her second day in Westchester she could feel the tug of the suburbs, where the backyards were large enough for whole suites of lawn furniture. Where attics and basements were big enough to hold extensive junk collections. And where every house had a garage to hide the car away. The Woo house didn't have a garage. Mike's building had only a covered area. April kept saying she'd buy a new car when she could afford a home for it. Ha.
She let the engine idle for a moment, then turned it off. The Le Baron was toasty from its long wait in the sun, but she really wanted to bask in the warmth of Mike's nearness. "Miss me?" She was desperate for a hug and didn't want to admit it.
"Why should I? You're always up to some trick." He shook his head. "This is why we can't trust the Chinese."
Uh-oh. She didn't like when he went global on her. "Oh, come on, you did miss me." She was determined not to bite back.
"You're not trustworthy. Why can't you just rest, take a day off for a change?" he grumbled, hitting all her buttons.
"Look, I don't like to be kept in the dark. I don't like to be pushed aside." Not trustworthy. Jesus. She sulked in the driver's seat, angry at herself for raising the issue. She should have known better than request a time-out for love when he was the primary on a case that was getting stickier by the hour.
"Left me alone, no message, nothing." Out of his window he studied the house she liked. "You didn't return my messages. How do you think I felt?"
"I couldn't talk," she reminded him.
"So now you can talk. Big improvement." He turned to face her, and the bicker transformed itself into a slow, steamy smile.
Mike was never one for holding grudges. He had his priorities straight. His smile moved right on to the hug she needed. A kiss followed, a long kiss, uncomfortable to maneuver in the bucket seats, but a good kiss nonetheless. April didn't want to be the one to break it up.
"Mmmm." Finally he made the motions of disentangling.
She rubbed his neck and discovered muscles that were rock hard with tension. "How late will you be?" Now she felt bad because she hadn't been there for him last night.
"Few more hours. Are you going back to your mom's? You smell funny. What did she do to you?"
"Nothing much. I'm coming home." Eventually.
"Que bueno. I gotta go." He shifted in the passenger seat, refueled for the moment, but then didn't move to get out.
"I'm sure Kathy didn't know about the money," April said suddenly.
"Oh, yeah?" Mike raised bushy eyebrows as if he found that impossible to believe.
"What can I say? It was a dysfunctional family. Welcome to America." April's voice was breaking down again, but she'd already promised herself that she wouldn't go back to Astoria. She'd have to work on it herself.
"We'll find the paper trail. It won't be difficult," he said.
"Yeah, follow Bill. Where was he yesterday morning, anyway? Remember when he burst in on us all, Mr. Indignation? He didn't go to his office in the morning; I checked while you were tossing the basement."