“I didn’t know the kids were with you,” said Chase, looking out across the immaculately landscaped garden. At least that part of the house was ready. “It was my understanding that Mrs. Bruce had sole custody and denied you visitation rights?”
“She did,” said Tad as he removed his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. “But lately we’d become civil with each other again. We were even on speaking terms—we just talked last night, actually, mainly about the boys’ future. Our divorce might have been acrimonious but for the sake of Sweetums and Honeychild we decided to put our differences aside and work things out. Which is why I moved back out here—to be closer to the boys. I was going to have them every weekend while they spent the week with their mother.”
“What’s going to happen now?” asked Odelia.
The man shrugged, and she noticed the bags under his eyes. “No idea. I guess I’ll have them full-time from now on. Not what I was counting on but I’ll manage. I’ll have to.”
They stared out at the kids, who were now chasing the nanny around the yard. “They seem to have taken the news pretty well,” said Chase.
“It hasn’t sunk in yet. I told them this morning what happened—that their mommy now lives with the angels in heaven, looking down on them from up above. They thought that was pretty cool. Like Superwoman. I guess it’ll take them some time to come to terms with the whole thing.”
“I’m sorry to have to ask you this, Mr. Rip,” said Odelia, “but where were you this morning between seven and eight?”
“You can ask me anything you want. I just hope you catch whoever did this before they strike again. I was trying to wake up the kids. We were going to church and I needed them to get ready.”
“Is there anyone who can vouch for you?” asked Chase.
“Sure. Elsie was here—that’s the nanny. And Germaine—the housekeeper. Oh, and you just met Herman—he’s my executive assistant. And then there’s the executive protection detail—Franz and Hans. They guard the boys twenty-four seven.”
“They all live here?” asked Odelia.
“Yeah, they do. There’s also Arnold—the driver—but he doesn’t live on-site.”
“And they were all here with you when Mrs. Bruce was killed,” Chase said, just to make sure.
“Yeah, they were. A man in my position is rarely alone. I can’t afford to be. I’ve got a billion-dollar company to run and now I’ve got a family to think about as well. A lot of moving parts so any helping hand is more than welcome.”
“Do you have any idea who might be behind the murder of your ex-wife, sir?” asked Odelia.
The man frowned and rubbed his jaw. “Well, if I had to venture a guess, I’d take a long, hard look at Dexter. That’s Dexter Valdès. He was Donna’s boyfriend for a couple of years, though they broke up not so long ago. Dexter has had a few bad things to say about Donna, especially after she wrote that article about him on her site. I guess he didn’t take it too well.”
“Why? What happened?”
The business tycoon smiled. “Donna liked to live her life out in the open—for the world to see. She held nothing back, which was one of the reasons our marriage failed. I can’t afford to have every minute of every day shared with the rest of the world. If you’re a businessman you can’t operate like that. My competitors would have a field day if they could anticipate my next move. But Donna was a relentless marketer of her own life. She turned oversharing into a form of art. So when she decided to share with the world what happened between the sheets with Dexter, the guy wasn’t too happy about it, especially since he didn’t come out smelling of roses.”
“What do you mean?”
The man’s smile widened. “I don’t remember all the details, but there was a piece about the man’s tiny wiener that went viral, inspiring lots of memes, if that’s the term. Suffice it to say Dexter left in a huff, claiming she’d caused irreparable damage to his reputation. Which she probably had. Not that she cared one bit. Donna was self-centered that way. She didn’t care who she hurt in her relentless pursuit of fame and fortune.”
“You sound bitter,” Odelia remarked.
“I do? Well, maybe I was bitter—for a long time.” He glanced at Sweetums and Honeychild, who’d now resorted to turning the super soakers on each other and were screeching up a storm. “But when I look at what she gave me, my bitterness fades. Donna Bruce was a complicated woman, detectives, but she did at least one thing right: she was a loving mother.”
“Did she also share every minute of every day of the twins’ lives online?” asked Chase.
“No, she did not. Oddly enough that’s where she drew the line. Said the boys got to decide for themselves if they wanted to lead the kind of life she did, and as long as they were underage, she would protect their privacy with the fierceness of a lioness. Which she did.”
Chapter 15
Frankly I was growing a little tired of Harriet’s Internet search as the be-all and end-all of sleuthing, so when she started getting engrossed in an article about Blac Chyna, claiming it was giving her valuable insight into the celebrity mindset, I decided to bail out. Dooley, who’d grown as bored with the whole Internet sleuthing thing as I had, tagged along. Harriet may have been in charge of this investigation, but so far she hadn’t really uncovered all that much. We now knew Beyoncé’s twins Rumi and Sir Carter were teething, the Real Housewives of New York really didn’t get along, and the Duck Dynasty men had shaved their beards for some charity event. What we still didn’t know was the identity of Donna Bruce’s murderer.
And as we ambled along the street, we decided to go old school on this thing again: visit our usual haunts and interrogate every cat in town about what they knew and what they’d seen and heard. We wouldn’t get the latest intel on Justin Bieber, Duck Dynasty, or Blac Chyna, whoever they might be, but we might finally solve this murder case.
“Brutus was awfully quiet just now,” said Dooley. “Do you think he’s sick?”
“He’s henpecked is what he is,” I said.
“Henpecked? But he’s not a hen.”
“It’s just an expression. It means Harriet is now firmly in charge of his life.”
“Oh.” Dooley thought about this for a moment. “So that’s a good thing, right?”
“I guess so.” It hadn’t stopped him from bullyragging me about my diet, though, so the extent of his henpeckedness was still an open question. My money was definitely on Harriet, though. If anyone could get Brutus to toe the line, it was her.
Our first stop was the doctor’s office, where I hoped to exchange a few words with Gran. By now she was probably ensconced behind her trusty front desk, encouraging patients waiting for a medical tête-à-tête with Odelia’s dad to sit down and be quiet, so now might be a good time to ask her what she thought about Donna and what the word on the street was.
We waltzed into the waiting room, which was empty, and headed straight for Gran. She was deeply engrossed in Donna Magazine, probably picking out what else she could buy from the site. She started when we showed up behind her, and Dooley caroled out a blithe, “Hey, Gran!”
Pressing a hand to her heart, she cried, “You scared me! Creeping up on me like that.”
“Sorry about that,” said Dooley. “We just thought we’d pay you a visit.”
“Actually we wanted to find out if you’d heard anything about the Donna Bruce case,” I said. “You know. Some new scuttlebutt or something.”
“Yeah, Odelia put Harriet in charge of the investigation but all she does is read stories about Justin Bieber on the Internet,” Dooley explained.
“I haven’t heard anything, to be honest,” said Gran thoughtfully. “People don’t really seem to be tuned into the whole Donna Bruce drama.” She shrugged her bony shoulders. “I guess Donna was an acquired taste—more for the discerning cognoscenti like me.” She tapped her glossy magazine, which was open on an article extolling the healing power of crystals. Gran leaned down and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Has another package arrived by any chance?”