“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I was just in the area and I thought I’d stop by and see if you had any news on the dinner jacket.” Leslie wanted nothing more than to leave, for she got the distinct impression that she was interrupting something between Gilda andRegina.
And then, all of a sudden it hither.
Could they be lovers? It was… It made sense really, when you looked at all the signs. Gilda had hit on Cherry, so clearly she was a lesbian. And hadn’t Regina said something the other day? No, it was Cherry who’d said it: “You’d have to be a straight man or a gay woman not to be interested in DeclanZyler.”
She’d been joking, of course, but later…Regina once made a comment about how Declan didn’t “do” anything for her. Not that those facts were conclusive, but once Leslie thought about them and noticed the way Regina and Gilda looked and acted around each other…everything sort of clicked intoplace.
Gilda had even called Regina “my politically correct mayor’s wife” last week…but most importantly, it was the sort of awareness or sizzle that flowed between them that sold Leslie on the idea. Their connection was very evident if you were payingattention.
She started, realizing Gilda had been answering her question and she hadn’t heard a word she said. Something about needing another week—that’s right, because she’d been sick. Agitated and still feeling awkward, Leslie turned sharply, ready to leave, and the roomy handbag over her shoulder knocked over a small pencilcup.
“Ugh, I’m sorry,” she said, feeling even more foolish now. She scrabbled on the floor as Regina and Gilda spoke in low voices—probably wishing their unwanted visitor would get the hell out of there—and picked up all the pencils to put them back in thejar.
But just as she reached for the last one, Leslie saw something on the floor, right by the corner of the deskleg.
It was round and made from brass, about the size of a pea. Confused and shocked, she picked it up and stood slowly, looking at it in the full office light as the dawn of realization rushed overher.
It was a button…from the long white glove that had belonged to Kristen vanGerste.
Leslie looked up just in time to realize Regina and Gilda were staring at her…no, they were staring at the button she washolding.
“Well, dammit,” said Regina, moving swiftly toward Leslie before she could move. “That’s going to really fuck things upnow.”
Twenty-One
“What the hellare we going to do with her?” Gilda said. She didn’t sound very nice at all. In fact, the tone of her voice was a lot more threatening thanRegina’s.
Leslie had lunged for the door as soon as she realized what finding the button meant—but the tall, wiry Regina stopped her, giving her a shove that sent her reeling into the side of a tall metal filingcabinet.
She cut her temple on the sharp edge of the cabinet as she stumbled into the credenza, sending boxes of thread, beads, and other finishings tumbling to thefloor.
“Jesus Christ, sit down before you destroy the whole damned place,” Gilda said, turning back from her desk. She had a gun in herhand.
Leslie sat down, her heart pounding hard enough to make her ill, and her temple screeching with pain. She could feel the blood pulsing from the cut, dripping down the side of herface.
“For God’s sake,” Gilda snapped, and handed her a scrap of cloth. “We don’t need blood all over everything.” She pursed her lips and paced the room, then stopped and looked at Regina. “She knows. We’re going to have to take care ofthis.”
“But Gilda…” Regina’s voice was taut. “We can’t— I don’t want another—” She shook her head and sank down onto a chair. “But we have no choice, dowe?”
“Not if you don’t want to go to jail, love. And I don’t want that—and Aaron certainly doesn’t either. It’ll just ruin everything you both have worked so hardon.”
“He’d be more worried about what it would do to his reputation than me anyway,” Regina said in a hard voice. “But you’re right, Gildy.” She looked at Leslie, who suddenly felt very lightheaded—and not from blood loss. “We can’t afford you telling anyone aboutthis.”
“But wait,” Leslie said desperately. “You don’t want athirdmurder on your hands, doyou?”
“Athirdmurder?” Gilda said. Her eyes glittered behind the trendy red glasses. “My, you have grasped the situation quite readily, haven’t you, Ms. Nakano?” She looked at Regina. “I have an idea. I know exactly what to do—and no one will be the wiser. It worked before—why recreate thewheel?”
She held the gun closely on Leslie and said, “You’re going to walk with me like we’re old chums—you get that, right? The three of us—and we’re going to walk to your car, Regina—you’re parked where you usually are,right?”
“Yes. All right. Of course.” Regina actually smiled. “I think I know what you have in mind. It’s perfect, Gilda. Justperfect.”
Leslie had no choice but to walk side by side with Gilda, who had the gun pressing directly into the skin of her abdomen beneath the blue cashmere sweater she’d chosen for her dinner withDeclan.
Declan.He’d wonder when she didn’t meet him at Trib’s. But how would he know where to look for her? She didn’t know where these two women were taking her…though, unfortunately, she had a good idea of their ultimate goal. Her knees wobbled at the thought, and she bumped against Gilda, whose arm was around her shoulders in order to keep her flush against her. Regina walked on the opposite side, carrying her carkeys.
I’ll figure somethingout.
Gilda climbed into the back seat of Regina’s car, which was, unfortunately, parked in the dark alley just around the corner. No one was around to see Leslie get shoved into the back next to her, and the gun flash ominously in the dimlight.
