The Lovebirds

‘‘I think he’d like to get your statement while you’re still halfway sober, my dear,’’ Oliver said to his wife. ‘‘Jack obviously knows you.’’

The tension in the room jumped up a notch as Mitzy shot her husband a .357 point-blank, drop-dead look, but it didn’t even seem to wound him, making Jack wonder about their relationship.

‘‘You might want to slow down a little yourself,’’ Jack suggested to Oliver. ‘‘Just until I get your statement.’’

Mitzy smiled at that, then sat on the couch, smoothing the pink fabric over her thighs with both hands. ‘‘To think she choked to death on my chocolates.’’

Jack didn’t correct her. For all he knew, she might be right. He met Tempest’s gaze across the expanse of glass coffee table as she took a chair opposite the couch. He got the distinct impression she didn’t think Peggy Kane had choked to death. At least not without help.

He sat in the chair at the end of the coffee table between Mitzy and Tempest. Oliver continued to stand behind the couch, sipping his drink. It was just like him to refuse to sit. After all, he was a Sanders and they didn’t take orders from anyone in River’s Edge. Especially from some ex-high-school-jock from the wrong side of the tracks named Jack McAllister, even if he was the new sheriff.

‘‘Mitzy, why don’t you tell me exactly what you remember,’’ Jack said as he set the tape recorder on the table. ‘‘I’d appreciate it if no one interrupted her.’’ He glanced pointedly at Oliver, who bristled visibly.

‘‘I already told everything to that other cop,’’ Mitzy said irritably. ‘‘I don’t see why I have to go over it again. It’s just all so...ghastly.’’

‘‘I need to hear it for the record,’’ Jack said as he pushed the record button.

Mitzy stared at the tape recorder, then at her drink for a moment, before she wet her lips and began speaking. ‘‘I came home at my usual time. I’m a Realtor, a very good one, in case you haven’t heard.’’ She directed the comment and a broad smile at Jack.

‘‘You came home at your usual time,’’ he prompted.

‘‘Yes, I was anxious to get home. It’s Valentine’s Day,’’ she said and looked from Jack to Tempest as if she doubted either was aware of that fact. ‘‘Anyway,’’ she sighed, ‘‘I got into the private elevator, started to insert my key for the penthouse when I noticed there was already a key in it.’’ She rolled her eyes. ‘‘I thought, damn Oliver! How many times have I told him not to leave his key in the elevator where anyone off the street can just walk right into our penthouse.’’

‘‘Oliver’s left his key in before?’’ Jack asked.

‘‘Only once or twice,’’ he said with obvious irritation. ‘‘The bellhop usually sees it and either brings it up or calls to let me know it’s at the desk. It really isn’t a big deal. I find the whole key thing to be a real nuisance.’’

‘‘Anyway,’’ Mitzy continued. ‘‘There was the key, so I just assumed Oliver had beat me home. I came up, excited to give him his gift. I bought him a new Rolex. Oh, sorry, dear,’’ she added quickly, glancing at her husband. ‘‘I guess it won’t be much of a surprise now.’’ Her gaze swung back to Jack. ‘‘But then my Valentine’s Day was ruined the moment I saw Peggy sprawled dead in the middle of my chocolates, wasn’t it?’’ She was completely ignoring Tempest. Nothing new here.

‘‘You were saying what happened when the elevator door opened,’’ Jack reminded her.

She looked at him aghast. ‘‘What do you think happened? I saw Peggy and screamed.’’

‘‘Did you check for a pulse or see if you could help her?’’ Jack asked.

Mitzy blinked. ‘‘I could see that she was dead. I wasn’t about to...touch her.’’

Jack looked to Tempest. ‘‘So that’s when you came on the scene?’’

She nodded. ‘‘I was on the floor below. I came right up.’’

‘‘By elevator?’’ he asked.

‘‘No, Mrs. Sanders had the elevator door blocked open with her bags. I took the emergency stairs off the fire escape and entered through the fire exit door.’’ Tempest seemed to read his mind. ‘‘I insisted Mrs. Sanders leave everything just as she’d found it—including the bags she’d used to block the elevator.’’

The two shopping bags he’d noticed against the opposite wall from the body.

He turned his attention back to Mitzy, trying not to think about the possibility of working with Tempest Bailey. With luck, she wouldn’t take the job. ‘‘Did you touch anything?’’ he asked Mitzy.

‘‘I just screamed and the next thing I knew—’’ she swung her gaze at Tempest ‘‘—she came through my house. It appears Oliver didn’t use the dead bolt on the fire escape exit.’’ Mitzy shook her head in disgust. ‘‘Then she called your office and ordered me to go back down to the lobby.’’

Jack knew the answer to this one. ‘‘But you didn’t.’’

‘‘Of course not,’’ Mitzy said. ‘‘I couldn’t have a bunch of strangers up here unsupervised.’’ Tempest Bailey was far from a stranger to Mitzy even if Tempest hadn’t been the hotel detective. ‘‘There wasn’t any reason I couldn’t wait in the living room and just step around the body if I had to.’’

He glanced at Tempest. She said nothing, but her expression told him everything he needed to know about her confrontation with Mitzy. ‘‘You called the sheriff’s department from your own cell phone?’’

Tempest nodded. ‘‘I touched nothing nor did I let anyone else touch anything around the victim or the penthouse until I turned it over to the two deputies and it could be photographed and fingerprints taken. I have been here with both...witnesses the entire time.’’

‘‘Good work.’’

‘‘I was just doing my job.’’

Mitzy looked as if she wanted to argue that.

‘‘How many keys are there to the penthouse?’’ he asked Tempest.

‘‘Four,’’ she answered without hesitation. ‘‘Mrs. Sanders and I each have one. Mr. Sanders has two.’’

Jack shot Oliver a look.

‘‘I have a tendency to misplace mine,’’ he said.

So it seemed. ‘‘May I see everyone’s key?’’ Jack asked.

Tempest produced hers. Mitzy had to have her little pink bag brought in from the foyer. She dug around for a moment, then finally came up with it. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw Oliver reach into the pocket of his suit pants, frown, then move to the bar where he began to mix himself another drink.

‘‘Don’t you have your keys?’’ Jack asked.

‘‘No, I guess I left mine at my office,’’ Oliver said after a moment, his back to everyone.

‘‘So whose key did Peggy have?’’ Jack asked as if he didn’t know the answer.

Oliver turned slowly from the bar, another full drink in his hand. He stared down into the frothy liquid for a moment, then glanced at his wife, who’d swung around on the couch to look at him. He let out a long sigh. ‘‘I asked Peggy to drop off the presents I’d purchased for Mitzy. She offered and since she didn’t have any plans and I wanted everything here before Mitzy got home and I wasn’t sure what time I could get off work, I thought, why not?’’

Oliver had rattled that off a little too quickly. Jack looked at him, wondering why the man would lie about something as innocuous as having Peggy drop off the gifts. Except for the fact that the woman was now dead in his foyer.

‘‘So you had already bought all the presents?’’ Jack asked, trying to pin down the lie. ‘‘When was that?’’

‘‘What does it matter?’’ Oliver snapped. Mitzy hadn’t said a word but she was still looking at her husband, a hard brittleness in her gaze.

‘‘It matters to me,’’ Jack said. And it appeared to matter to Mitzy as well. ‘‘When did you purchase the gifts? I’m sure you have the receipts or the clerks at the stores can substantiate your story.’’

Oliver glared at him. ‘‘I had Peggy buy everything this afternoon.’’

Mitzy turned back around, picked up her martini and drained half of it.

‘‘Where did Ms. Kane buy the chocolates?’’ Jack asked.