Spinnelli ran a frustrated hand through his hair. „Anything on Paul Worth, the son?“
„Records is checking. They said they’d call me back when they found anything.“
Thursday, February 26,
2:30 p.m.
No Barnetts still lived in the parish, but Father Delaney had given them a list of his oldest parishioners. Viola Keene had been a member of Sacred Heart parish all her life. Church membership had done nothing to sweeten her disposition. „Sure, I remember the Barnetts. Why do you want to know?“ Viola Keene frowned at their feet. „I just mopped in here. Can you shake the snow off your feet?“
„We’re sorry, ma’am.“ Abe made an honest effort to clean his shoes and Mia did the same. „It’s slushy out there.“
„Maybe we’re gonna have a thaw,“ the old woman said irritably. She really wasn’t that old, Abe thought. She wasn’t even sixty, but she seemed older. It was the way her mouth bent in a perpetual frown. The severe hairstyle and black wardrobe didn’t help.
„One can only hope,“ Mia murmured and Abe bit back his smile.
„Well, what do you want to know?“ Keene snapped. „I got a business to run.“
She owned a small hat shop, but it appeared their privacy was assured. The layer of dust on the hats indicated Keene hadn’t had customers in quite a while. Go figure.
„The Barnett family,“ Abe said. „How did you know them?“
„I went to school with Iris Anne. Foolish girl she was.“
They approached the long counter where Miss Keene was bent over what looked like a big bow. „How so, ma’am?“ Mia asked.
„Always worrying about boys and such. Never one much for her studies. Now her brother, he was a different tale.“
Mia leaned closer to see the woman’s face. „Which brother, Miss Keene?“
Keene looked affronted. „The older one, of course. Robert worked hard at his studies. He helped his father in their store, like a good son should.“ Impossibly, her face softened and she looked ten years younger. „He took good care of Iris and the other one.“ She frowned again. „The youngest…“ She paused, trying to remember. „Colin. He was a spoiled one. Always gettin’ into trouble, pickin’ on kids in the neighborhood.“ She sniffed. „He got his.“
Mia glanced up at him from the corner of her eye, then back to Keene. „How so?“
„Colin picked on the wrong kid.“ Keene picked up the bow and began fussing with the ribbon. „Kid beat him up, put him in the hospital. It was quite the neighborhood event“
„So what happened?“
„Colin died.“
Mia blinked. „Wow. That was some neighborhood event.“
Keene fluffed the bow. „The kid had a knife in his boot. Colin never saw it comin’.“
Abe hid his surprise at the old woman’s casual rendition of the tale. „What happened to Robert?“
Again her face softened, became almost wistful. „It got even worse for him at home after that. Finally, he ran away. Broke Iris Anne’s heart.“
Miss Keene’s, too, he suspected. „What do you mean, it got worse? Was it bad before?“
Keene looked up, angry. „Mr. Barnett was hard on Robert. Iris and Colin could do whatever they liked, but Robert had to work hard. If he didn’t breathe right, his father would take a cane to him. Like I said, he finally ran away. I never saw him again.“
„Miss Keene,“ Mia said softly, „what happened to the kid who killed Colin?“
Keene dropped her eyes back to the bow. „He went to jail. One of those reform schools. But when he got out, he got in a bar fight and ended up stabbed, just like Colin.“ She held the bow up to the light. „Poetic justice, the papers called it. Never caught the guy who did it. Most people figured he’d made some enemies along the way, but me and Iris, we used to wonder if Robert came back.“ She sighed. „Of course it was just girlish wishing. I thought I saw him once, a few years later, but I was wrong.“
„Where was that?“
„At the funeral. His parents and Iris Anne were killed in a car accident.“
„I’m sorry,“ Mia murmured and Keene shrugged.
„It was almost twenty-five years ago.“ Then she surprised them both by smiling at Mia. „But thank you. She was my dearest friend.“
„Why did you think you were wrong about seeing him, Miss Keene?“ Abe asked.
„I called to him, but he didn’t answer. My Robert never would have been so rude.“
„One more question, Miss Keene,“ Mia said, „then we’ll be on our way. Do you have any pictures, maybe a picture of Robert?“
„Oh, mercy. I may have an old annual or two from high school, but I’d have no clue where they’d be.“
Mia gave her a business card. „It’s really important we find a picture. My name and number’s on here. If you find something, can you call us?“
Thursday, February 26,
3:00 p.m.
„Mr. Conti will see you now.“
Zoe fidgeted nervously. Now that she was here, she was wondering how wise an idea this request for an interview had really been, especially since they’d refused to allow Scott to accompany her. He hadn’t even been allowed to drive her here in the station van. She followed the butler, clad in a black pin-striped suit with a crisp white shirt and a black tie. Shades of Al Capone, she thought, glad she’d left word with the station on where she’d gone.
„Miss Richardson,“ the butler announced, gesturing her into Jacob Conti’s private office. Conti himself sat behind his desk, staring at her through narrowed eyes. Drake Edwards stood to one side. She supposed Edwards intended to look casual, but the man exuded such coiled power that anything remotely resembling casual was an impossibility. For a moment she stared at him in fascination, then turned to Jacob Conti.
„Thank you for seeing me. Please accept my condolences on the death of your son.“
Conti said nothing, but Edwards gestured toward the only other chair in the room. „Have a seat, Miss Richardson,“ Edwards said smoothly. „Stay a while.“
His words had a distinctly ominous ring, but Zoe refused to be cowed. She sat, making sure she showed just enough leg. „I wanted to request a formal interview.“
Edwards lifted a brow. „Why would Mr. Conti be interested in an interview?“
„There have been several attempts on the lives of Kristen Mayhew and her inner circle this week,“ Zoe said.
Conti’s face remained impassive, while Edwards’s grew amused. „And this concerns us how?“ Edwards asked and Zoe knew she was being mocked.
„There are allegations that you are involved, Mr. Conti. The police were here to visit you just this morning.“
„The police discussed no such allegations with us, Miss Richardson,“ Edwards said, again mocking her. „Perhaps your newest source is… incorrect.“ His eyes brazenly traveled the length of her body.
Zoe turned back to the silent Conti. „I wanted to give you the opportunity to address the allegations in a public forum,“ she said, as earnestly as she could muster while ignoring Edwards’s blatant leer. Conti said not a single word. His expression had not changed once in the entire time she’d been in the room. If she hadn’t seen his chest rise and fall, she might have believed he was dead. But he was very much alive.
And very much a threat. She stood up. „If you decide you’re interested, please contact me.“ She placed one of her cards on the corner of his desk. „Again, my condolences.“
She’d reached the door when Conti finally spoke. „Miss Richardson, I hold you as accountable for the death of my son as I do Miss Mayhew and his killer.“
Unable to control the sudden tremble of her body, she turned to look at him. „Is that a threat, Mr. Conti?“
„Why would you think a thing like that?“ Conti asked, his mouth curving in a truly horrible smile and she knew the true taste of fear. „Now leave before I have you forcibly removed.“
On shaking legs she obeyed. Edwards followed her to the mansion’s front entrance and opened the door. In his hand he held her card and a second later he’d deftly slid it down the neckline of her dress, between her breasts. „We know many things, Miss Richardson. Including how to reach you should we need to.“