If Looks Could Kill (36 page)

I checked my messages. No hang-ups. Just someone thinking he’d reached Marv and a frantic message from Cat moments after she’d
called on my cell last night.

I made coffee and showered. While I was toweling off, I called Landon and asked if he wanted to have breakfast with me. I
didn’t have much to offer, just frozen bagels, but he was game.

As I set cups and plates on the dining room table, I considered what I needed to do today. I was in a real predicament. At
Cat’s request I had begun looking into the supposed attempt on her life, but now that she was miffed at me and my investigation
was going down a whole different road, she might no longer want me involved. Was I just supposed to stop in my tracks? Well,
she might want me to, but I’d be damned if I was going to do that. I felt compelled to figure out the truth. Be-sides, the
killer was watching me. I wasn’t going to be safe until he—or she—was caught.

I needed to make the final fixes on my Marky piece this morning, and as soon as I was finished, I’d go drop it off at
Gloss
. I could have sent it electronically, but I was looking for an excuse to check out the scene there. Next, I’d visit the Godiva
store on Fifth Avenue. Though Godiva chocolates were sold at gourmet food stores in New York, one of their own boutiques would
have the biggest selection. I’d also want to make some calls and find out what I could about Patty Gaylin and the chocolate-chip
cookies. And there was the reading by Nancy Highland today. It was at three-thirty at a bookstore in the East 70s, and I didn’t
want to miss it.

The bell rang and I let Landon in. As soon as he saw me, a small frown formed on his face.

“Bailey, dear, you look exhausted.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I didn’t say
bad
. It’s just that you have very
large, dark
circles under your eyes. Of course, on you it looks sexy.”

“Good recovery,” I said. He took a seat at the table as I went to the kitchen to collect the French press and pop a bagel
into the toaster. “You look a little sleepy yourself,” I called out. “Hot date last night?”

“I
thought
it was going to be hot, but it quickly turned into a disaster. That guy Edward, the one with the faux British accent I mentioned
several weeks ago, called and asked if I wanted to go to a party with him in a loft in Tribeca. Said he knew it was spur of
the moment, but it would be lots of fun, et cetera. He hadn’t returned a single call of mine, but I thought, Okay, so he’s
been busy. Well, I pick him up in a cab, which
I
pay for, and when we get there it becomes clear that we are actually
crashing
the party. It was absolutely humiliating.”

“Did you get turned away?”

“No, but that would have been the best thing that could have happened. There was someone at the door who tried to get a handle
on who had invited us. Edward glances over to the buffet table, announces, ‘We’re friends of the
ham,’
and struts in. Then he just
dropped
me. He probably invited me because I don’t look like a crasher and he thought he’d have an easier time getting in with me.
But forget all that. It’s just one more crushing blow to my ego, and I’m over it now. Why did you look like you pulled an
all-nighter? What’s happening with Miss Kit-Kat?”

I stood up to get the bagel and pop another into the toaster, and as I sat down again I proceeded to give him an update, filling
him in on my Heidi theory, including the new details I’d found about Heidi’s life and, last but not least, Cat’s verbal slap.

“My God, my head is spinning,” Landon said. “I can’t even keep this all straight. Do you have the slightest idea who might
have killed this nanny?”

“No,” I said. “But someone has been snooping around my office and calling me and hanging up. I figure it’s got to be the killer,
and he or she’s within range.”

“I just wish you’d stay out of it,” he said. “It’s way too dangerous.”

“The trouble is,” I said, “I wouldn’t know how to signal to the killer that I had decided to back off. So I might be in danger
regardless of what I do. It’s in my interest to keep going, to figure out who did this.”

I switched gears and asked him what he thought I should do about Cat.

“Well, don’t grovel or act wounded, that’s for sure,” he said. “It will only bring out the shark in her. If I were you, I’d
just lie low, do nothing, stay out of her range for a few days.”

“That’s exactly what K.C. said last night.”

“Oh my, are things heating up there?”

“No. Cooling down. But I can’t bear to discuss it right now.”

Before he could run through his usual lecture on how I deserved the most wonderful man in the world, there was a knock on
the door of my apartment, and it startled both of us. Outside visitors were always announced by the doorman.

I crossed the room and undid the dead bolt but left the chain on as I opened the door. Cat Jones was standing in the hallway
in a cream-colored trench coat.

“Are you going to let me in?” she asked.

“Of course,” I said, undoing the chain. “Is the doorman not down there? No one rang up.”

“There
was
a guy there,” she said, stepping inside. “But he didn’t say anything.” The doorman had probably assumed by her demeanor that
she’d just bought the building.

“Well, come in. You want coffee? I have some made already.”

She looked past me, over my shoulder, at Landon, who was starting to rise from the table, and her eyes widened. The first
thing that must have crossed her mind was that I was sleeping with a guy close to forty years older than me. I made introductions,
not bothering to say that Landon was my next-door neighbor because I thought it would be entertaining to keep her guessing
for a while. But as soon as she shook his hand, I saw that she recognized him. I had introduced her to him once at a
Gloss
event I’d dragged him along to.

I could tell Landon was hoping to hang around for the show, but I gave him a look and he got out quick as a bunny, announcing,
purely for my amusement, that he had a brisket he needed to marinate.

“You’ve really changed this place around since I was here last,” Cat said, slipping off her trench coat and tossing it onto
the couch. “It’s nice. Kind of a Santa Fe thing, right?”

“Yeah, sort of,” I said, handing her a cup of coffee. She was wearing a tight, tight brown cardigan with a V neckline and
a full skirt with what appeared to be purple lip prints on it. “It’s kind of a clichéd idea these days, but I like the colors—and,
of course, the baskets are cheap to work with. I was just glad to get rid of all that supermodern stuff I had when I was married.”

“Are you okay about that now—the divorce, I mean?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, really. More or less.”

“Is it hard to live alone in a space that you once shared with someone you were totally in love with?”

Hmmm. Was she referring to me, or was she in the process of making some plan for herself ?

“It depends, I guess. If you’re still in love, I suppose it would be hard. That wasn’t the case for me. Plus, redecorating
does wonders.”

“Are you still mad at me?” she asked out of nowhere. She had wandered over to the table and was taking a seat in the chair
Landon had occupied. I joined her at the table.

“Yeah. Not as mad as I was last night, but I’d be lying if I said I was completely over what happened.”

“Well, I’ve come to apologize. I know there’s no excuse for being so bitchy—to you, of all people—but I hope you can understand
that I’m not myself these days. I’m going crazy. I don’t have Tyler with me and Jeff’s out of town and work is awful and this
thing with Patty sent me over the edge. I made Carlotta stay over last night, and I woke up in the middle of the night thinking,
Oh, my God, what if it’s
her?
What if she’s standing outside my bedroom with a butcher knife? That’s what a mess I am right now. And it suddenly seemed
as if you didn’t care, that you were going off half-cocked on another idea.”

“I’m sorry if it seemed that way,” I said. “And I’m also sorry that I’ve been so busy running around lately that I probably
haven’t had a chance to be very empathetic.”

“Of course,” she said with the slightest degree of peevishness, “you think I have less to worry about than I do. You think
we should be focusing on Heidi.”

“Cat, do you really want to get into this?” I asked. “That’s how you ended up so annoyed with me yesterday.”

“I
do
want to get into it. You were right the other night when you said that the reason I asked for your help is that you’re brilliant
at pushing, and turning over every stone. I need to trust you.”

“I don’t believe I used the word
brilliant,”
I pointed out.

“Come on, Bailey, you know what I mean. If there’s something I need to know about Heidi, tell me. I’m ready to hear it now.”

She seemed genuine, so I decided to test the waters—carefully.

“I
have
begun to suspect that the candy may have been meant for Heidi, but I’m not a hundred percent sure. There’s still one thing
I need to check out.”

“But I don’t get it,” she said. “How could someone be certain Heidi would walk off with the candy?”

“I don’t think Heidi walked off with the candy,” I explained. “I think the killer set a box of candy on the hall table and
took it away later, kind of as a decoy. And then later, he—or she—slipped the poison chocolates through the grated door to
Heidi’s apartment.”

“But
why?
Why would someone at my party want to kill Heidi? Wait . . . Jody came by that night. Do you think he could have done it?”

“He’s the logical suspect. But we need to consider whether there could be any others. As far as you know, was there anyone
at the party who might have known Heidi in more than a passing way?”

“Well, plenty of people from
Gloss
knew her. She’s been in the office a few times to pick things up, and of course, people from work come to the house. . .
. Are you thinking someone from
Gloss
might have had a
relationship
with her?” She asked it tentatively, as if it were a direction she wasn’t thrilled to be going in.

“Maybe. Any ideas?”

“No, nothing. At least nothing that I ever picked up on.”

I watched her closely as she was answering, but there was nothing in her expression that indicated she knew about Heidi and
Kip or Heidi and anyone else, for that matter. I had no intention of filling her in at this point. And I wasn’t going to raise
the Jeff issue. I had no proof whatsoever, I’d already asked her about the state of her marriage, and I wasn’t interested
in doing anything to set her off again.

“What about the jewelry? I take it you or Carlotta came across the Tiffany earrings and bracelet in her drawer. When you saw
them, did they ring any bells?”

“No. Like I said before, I have no reason to assume she didn’t arrive in New York with them. They certainly couldn’t be from
Jody. He’s the kind of guy who gives a girl car mats as a gift. What do you think I should do with them?”

“Well, don’t do anything with them just yet,” I told her. “If it turns out I’m right and that Heidi was meant to die all along,
then you need to turn the jewelry over to the police. If the pieces are really from Tiffany, they may be able to trace who
gave them to her.”

“Well, when are you going to get this info you’re talking about?”

“Maybe I’ll know something today.”

“There’s nothing you can tell me right now?”

“Nothing that’s going to matter, because it may not pan out. But I promise I’ll call you later and fill you in as soon as
I have the info.”

“I’ve got an idea, then,” she said, pushing her chair back in a way that signaled she would soon be on the move. “I’m driving
up to Litchfield at about three today—I have to get out of New York again. Maybe this whole thing isn’t about me, but as long
as the police think it is and until you have the proof that it isn’t, I’m not going to feel safe here. Why don’t you come
up, stay for a few days?”

“You weren’t planning to be there alone, were you?”

“No, of course not. Jeff is shooting just for the day in Miami. He’ll fly into La Guardia tonight and take a car service from
there directly to the house. And this weekend my mother will bring Tyler down—if I feel . . . if I feel safe.”

“I appreciate the invitation, but don’t you need time to yourself, time with Jeff ?”

“The house is big enough. And it will give you and me the chance to talk more.”

“I’d love to come, but I have a pretty full plate today.”

“If you’ve got stuff to do today, you can drive up tomorrow.”

“All right, I can probably come. But if I do, it will have to be tomorrow—and I’m not sure what time.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “You’ve got my number up there. Just call me tonight—I should be there by six.” She took a lipstick
out of the makeup bag in her purse and, using the side of a table knife as a mirror, touched up her lips with a shade that
looked like putty. When she was done, when she’d smushed her lips together so that the color distributed evenly, we both stood.
She picked her trench coat off the couch, slipped it on, and glanced around the room in this odd way she had of taking stock
of her surroundings before she departed. Maybe she was always nervous about leaving behind a glove or an umbrella, but it
sometimes had the look of someone checking for snipers.

“You’re comfortable being away from
Gloss
so much this week?” I asked, walking her to the door. “I thought Harry was breathing down your neck.”

“I’ve got him off my case for now. He likes it if you grovel a little and act as if you can’t live without his advice.”

“Is that where you’re headed now—to work?”

“In a while. I’ve got a meeting outside first.”

“Before you go, I do have one other question about Heidi, though. I heard she used to work for Nancy Highland in Scarsdale.
How exactly did you end up with her?”

“I know that woman thinks I stole her, but that’s not how it worked,” Cat said, looping the belt of her trench coat into a
knot rather than buckling it. “Last summer Audrey had to call up there, about some minor detail to do with the plan for that
ridiculous book, and Heidi answered the phone. She explained that she was the nanny, and since mine had just quit, Audrey
asked her in passing if she had any friends who might be interested. The next thing we know, Heidi is begging for the job.
Why?”