“And did you find anything?” Vito asked gently and she shook her head.
“No. None of the agencies he’d worked for in the past had heard from him in a long time.” There was a tension to her posture that told Vito she knew why they’d come.
“Miss Devlin, I’m Detective Ciccotelli. This is my partner, Detective Lawrence. We have some bad news for you.”
The color drained from her face. “No.”
“We found Warren’s body, Miss Devlin,” Nick said gently. “We’re so sorry.”
“I knew something terrible had happened to him.” She lifted her eyes, numb with grief. “They said he’d run away, but I knew he’d never leave me. Not voluntarily.”
“Leave your car here. We’ll take you home.” He helped her sit in the back seat, then crouched next to her. “How did you know where to look in New York?”
She blinked slowly. “From Warren’s portfolio.”
“We looked at his portfolio, Miss Devlin,” Nick said, “We didn’t see a list of modeling agencies, just photos.”
“That’s his photofolio,” she murmured. “His résumé is online.”
Vito felt an electric current zip down his spine. “Where online?”
“At UCanModel dotcom. He had an account there.”
“What kind of account?” Nick asked.
She looked confused. “For models. They upload their photos and credits, and people who want to hire them can contact them through the site.”
Vito glanced over at Nick. Bingo. “Did Warren ever use your computer?”
“Sure. He was at my place more than he was at his folks’.”
Vito squeezed her hand. “We’re going to want to take your computer into our lab.”
“Of course,” she murmured. “Anything you need.”
Monday, January 15, 8:15
P.M.
“Sophie, wake up.”
Sophie blinked and focused on Harry’s face. She’d fallen asleep in the chair next to Anna’s bed. “What are you doing here?” Then she winced when she remembered. “Lou’s for cheesesteak. I forgot. Dang, and I’m hungry, too.”
“I brought you one. It’s out in my car.”
“I’m sorry I stood you up. I had a long day.” She studied Anna’s sleeping face. “Marco must have given her her meds. She’s out for the night, so I might as well go.”
“Then come eat your sandwich and tell me about your long day.”
In his car, Sophie stared up at the nursing home while she ate. “Gran keeps saying that this one nurse is mean to her. Does she say that to Freya?”
“Freya hasn’t mentioned it.” Harry frowned. “Do you think Anna’s being abused?”
“Don’t know. I hate having to leave her here at night.”
“We have to, unless we get a private nurse and that’s expensive. I checked into it.”
“I did, too. But I can barely afford this place, and Alex’s money will be gone soon.”
Harry’s jaw tightened. “You shouldn’t be using your inheritance for Anna’s care.”
She smiled at him. “Why not? What else would I use it on? Harry, everything I own fits in this backpack.” She nudged it with her toe. “That’s the way I like it.”
“I think that’s what you tell yourself. Alex should have provided for you better.”
“Alex provided for me just fine.” Harry always thought her biological father should have done more. “He paid for my university so that I could provide for myself. Not that I seem to be doing very well with that.” She scowled. “S’il vous plaît.”
“Let me guess. You were Joan again today.”
“Yeah,” she said glumly. “And the only thing worse than being Joan is having somebody I know see me that way.” She’d felt embarrassed when Vito and Nick had seen her in her costume. Of course, she’d be more embarrassed when Vito found out what kind of person she’d been. Alan would be sure to give him an earful.
“I think you make a cute Joan,” Harry said. “But who saw you?”
“Just this guy. It’s nothing.” No, it hadn’t been nothing. It had been incredible. She shrugged. “I thought he was a cheater, but it turns out he’s a really nice guy.”
“Then what’s the problem, Sophie?” Harry asked gently.
“The problem is that he’s about to meet Alan Brewster.”
Harry’s eyes flashed dark. “I’d hoped I’d never hear that name again.”
“Me, too. But we don’t get everything we want, do we? I have no doubt that within an hour after talking to Alan that Vito will think I’m trashy, and worse, hypocritical trash because I yelled at him for cheating on a girlfriend he doesn’t even have.”
“If he’s really a nice man he won’t listen to the vile gossip of a snake like Brewster.”
“I hear you, Uncle Harry. I just know better. Men hear about Brewster and I become a different person. I can’t seem to make people back here forget.”
Harry looked sad. “You’ll go back to Europe when Anna dies, won’t you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But I don’t think I can stay around Philly. Funny thing is, it happened over there, but it’s here that the story won’t die. Alan and his wife won’t let it because I had to be a freakin’ hero and try to do the right thing. Confess to the wife. Merde. Freakin’ idiot is more like it,” she muttered. “Confession is not good for the soul and there’s a damn good reason the wife’s always the last to know.”
“Sophie, that’s the first time you didn’t tell me Anna wasn’t going to die.”
Sophie went still. “I’m sorry. Of course she’ll-”
“Sophie.” His admonishment held affection. “Anna’s led one hell of a life. Don’t feel guilty because you believe she won’t hold on. Or that you’ll get your life back once she passes. You gave up a lot to come home. She appreciates that. So do I.”
She swallowed hard. “How could I have done anything else, Harry?”
“You couldn’t have.” He patted her knee. “You done with your sandwich? Because I have to get rid of the evidence. Freya can’t know I went to Lou’s. It’s not on my diet.”
“She’ll smell the onions. I’m sorry, Harry. You’re busted.”
“Well, it was worth it. I’ll just drive with the windows open on the way home.” He rolled down his window as Sophie gathered her backpack and the trash and got out.
“I’ll dispose of the evidence,” she said in a loud whisper. “See you around, Harry.”
“Sophie, wait.” She turned around and leaned in his window. His face was serious. “If this Vito is a good man, nothing Brewster says would make him disrespect you.”
She kissed his cheek. “You’re so sweet. Naïve, but sweet.”
He frowned. “I’m just afraid the right man will come along and you’ll be so sure he’s going to think the worst that you don’t give him an opportunity. I don’t want to see you miss your chance, Sophie. I’m not sure how many we get to waste.”
Chapter Nine
Monday, January 15, 9:00
P.M.
There he is.” Vito studied the photo of Warren Keyes on UCanModel dotcom. He’d logged onto Warren’s account from his own PPD computer using the user name and password supplied by Sherry Devlin. Sherry’s computer sat in a box on Nick’s desk. One of Jeff’s computer techs would be coming in to check it out within the hour.
“Spotty résumé,” Nick said, standing behind him. “He didn’t get a lot of work.”
Vito clicked around the statistics section of Warren’s account page. “Looks like he hasn’t had a lot of hits lately. Six in the last three months. But look at the last date.”
“January 3. That’s the day before the last day Sherry saw him alive. Coincidence?”
“I don’t think so.” Vito went to the photo section and clicked through the thumbnails that comprised Warren Keyes’s career. “Look at this one.” It was two photos spliced together, both close-ups of Warren’s bicep. One half showed the Oscar tattoo in reasonable detail, on the other half the tattoo had been rendered invisible with makeup. “There’s something about that tattoo that’s been bothering me.”