LITMIR.BIZ

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a partial view of the living room.

      Joe stepped back and allowed them to enter. He glanced at Nina’s back, then raised an eyebrow at Ryan in unspoken question.

      “You know the drill,” Ryan ordered. “Get Franz going on the computer. You make the calls.”

      “Yes, sir,” Joe agreed, fully understanding who the subject of inquiries would be. “I’ll phone you tonight if anything turns up.”

      “You’ll phone me in either case,” Ryan said. “Before six o’clock.”

      Braca nodded. Ryan passed him and followed Nina to the arched entrance to the living room where she had stopped. She was staring at the stain, black on the patterned Persian carpet. Her eyes were wide and her face bone-white.

      “Th-that’s where it happened?” she asked, almost in a whisper.

      “Yes. Tests confirm he was struck with a statuette that was found sitting on the credenza there.” Ryan pointed. “He died instantly. One of the sharp edges made contact with the left temple area. If it had struck anywhere else, it probably would only have knocked him unconscious.”

      “So it wasn’t planned.” she guessed.

      “Probably wasn’t,” Ryan said, not certain of that by any means. Maybe whoever had hit him had fully intended to beat him to death with the thing and had hit a home run on the first swing.

      She started to walk into the room but Ryan caught her arm. “Not yet,” he told her. “I’ve ordered Forensics to make a final sweep before anyone else goes in. We can walk around back. That could have been the point of entry.”

      “Someone broke in?” she asked as she walked back to the front door.

      “No sign of it. The French doors to the patio were probably open. Either that, or Desmond knew the killer well enough to invite him or her in the front door.”

      She picked up on the pronouns. “Her? You think it could have been a woman?”

      He shrugged. “Entirely possible.” In fact, Princess Samira Kamal of Tamir, Desmond’s former lover, had said in her statement that when she’d dropped by to see him a couple of weeks ago, Desmond had been getting cozy with an unidentified woman.

      Farid Nasir, the princess’s bodyguard, had threatened Desmond’s life publicly. Fortunately for Farid, he had an ironclad alibi, as did the princess herself.

      Rumor had it those two had just revealed they were married. Ryan had already decided he needed to interview Samira again to determine just what her relationship with the victim had really entailed and how Farid figured into the equation.

      They might not be guilty, but they could have useful information that they hadn’t given the police.

      “Let’s go,” he said, placing his hand at Nina Caruso’s back to usher her out. Touching her was a mistake. She tensed beneath his palm as a current passed between them. Not a good sign at all, and Ryan was sure she felt it, too. Still, he didn’t break the connection. He didn’t want to think about why that was.

      The three of them went out the front, Joe closing and locking the door behind them as they headed around the side of the building. Ryan guided her past the tiny, landscaped fishpond that decorated the garden directly in back of the dwelling.

      There were large windows in the living room that allowed a broad view of the garden. Conversely, anyone interested would have a terrific view of those rooms from the garden if the lights were on. French doors between the windows allowed access into the room.

      “It looks so…safe,” Nina murmured, staring into the room where the murder had taken place. She moved out of his reach and walked over, almost touching the glass-paned doors that were now shut, a yellow band taped across them.

      She stooped a bit and examined the levers that served as door handles. Ryan watched, thinking idly how much he missed the land of round doorknobs. But he wouldn’t go back there. Not for anything.

      What was she thinking about? he wondered. Was she bemoaning the loss of a brother, or gloating over the fact that she’d gotten her money’s worth from a hired killer? He exchanged a look with Joe, who pursed his lips as if he was wondering, too.

      When she crouched farther down, ostensibly to examine the flower bed next to the window, Ryan stepped back just out of hearing and motioned for Joe to accompany him. Quickly, he related what new information he’d gotten from Forensics, which was little more than they had already guessed.

      There was no need to reiterate what he wanted done in the way of investigating Nina. Joe was an expert at that and needed no direction.

      “You want me back here tonight?” he asked Ryan.

      “No, we’ll have to let the regulars handle security. The cameras are all set, right?”

      “Maybe we could have used a couple more, but at least we’ve got the doors covered,” Joe assured him.

      “Good. I need you on the BI.” Background investigations were Joe’s specialty, and God only knew there were enough of those to run.

      Joe nodded, smiling slightly at the sight of Nina Caruso on her knees, bending over to part the foliage in the flower bed. “Searching for tracks,” he observed. “You should hire her. She seems quite thorough.”

      “Bite your tongue,” Ryan said, turning so that he blocked Joe’s view of Nina. That cute little behind of hers was enticing enough when she was standing up. “Why don’t you go phone for a guard to get over here?” he suggested. “You need to grab a couple of hours’ sleep and then get started on the other business.”

      As soon as Joe started around front, Ryan stepped across the flagstones nearer to Nina. “We might as well go unless you’ve found something we overlooked.”

      She glanced up at him, frowning. “Did you check for footprints around here?”

      “We found the head gardener’s, but he has an alibi. Would you care to question him?” Ryan reached down and helped her up.

      She brushed the soil off her hands and straightened her short jacket and skirt. Her dark, silky hair had fallen forward over one eye. Ryan had the craziest urge to brush it back in place for her. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead and backed off.

      “I’d like to see him now,” Nina said, taking a huge breath as if to fortify herself.

      “The gardener?”

      She rolled her eyes, then closed them. Probably praying for patience. “No. I would like to see Desmond.” Ryan watched her swallow hard and brace her shoulders in defiance of her fears. “His body.”

      Ryan’s hand, acting independently of his better judgment, took Nina by the elbow as he escorted her around the building. The driver had returned with the limo, minus Pavelli, who was probably giving the king an earful about the uncooperative American investigator.

      Though Ryan knew it might help him gain information about Nina, he wished she would change her mind about going to the morgue. Hell, he wouldn’t even go there if it wasn’t necessary. It was, however, and he would be going anyway, whether she went or not. “I could drop you at the apartment. Are you sure you want to do this?”

      She snatched her arm away from him. “Yes. I have to see him. If nothing else, I need to say goodbye.”

      For a long, tense moment, Ryan held her gaze, trying to judge how she would hold up. “This is not like viewing the dearly departed in a funeral home, Nina. He’s on a slab. In the morgue.”

      “Has… has there been an autopsy?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper again as if she couldn’t bear to ask the question out loud.

      “No, not yet.” But there would be. Probably late this afternoon. “If we’re going, we’d better go now and get it over with,” he suggested. “Sure you’re up to it?”

      She

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