She gave me a stony look, and I added, “But he certainly wouldn’t have a key to Nick’s place, and from what Jacquie told me, he hasn’t been in touch with her for a while, so he wouldn’t have had access to her key either, assuming she has one.”
Rachel nodded, looking a little mollified. I was being as fair to Kenny as I could be, to be honest, and it was good that she appreciated it.
“He might have picked the lock,” I said, “although I don’t know whether he knows how. On the other hand, he’s never been caught doing that sort of thing before.”
“Not that I’ve heard,” Rachel agreed. “He’s not a crook, or a thief. Just a playboy. Women and alcohol and a whiff of cocaine.”
That sounded about right. “I still think he might have thrown paint at my door,” I said. “Fair warning. He dropped Jacquie off at home around eight-thirty, she said. That would have given him time to stop at Home Depot, buy paint, and hit my house before Greg brought me home.”
Rachel was quiet for a moment, swirling the wine in her glass. “I think...” She sighed. “I think you may be right. It’s petty and spiteful and exactly the kind of thing he would do to get back at you. Like he’s still a teenager and you’re still his stepmom. But I don’t know about murder. That’s different. That’s cold-blooded. And I just don’t see it.”
Kenny was plenty cold-blooded in my experience, but maybe I was prejudiced by those early years.
“I admit that that bullet between the eyes was plenty cold-blooded. That’s not even murder, it’s an execution. That’s the kind of thing the mob would do to make a point.”
Izzy Spataro and Gio Abruzzi had both come across as capable of anything, each in their own way. If Mendoza called me tomorrow and told me that the murder was solved, that Gio or Izzy had confessed, I wouldn’t think twice about believing him.
“We’re probably just fantasizing with our suspicions of anyone else,” I added. “It looked like a professional hit. That’s probably what it was. Someone wanted to send a message about involving the police in mob business, and Nick was the messenger.”
Rachel shuddered. “That’s terrifying. You don’t think they’ll send any messages to us, do you?”
“I hope not,” I said. “Although I’m not sure they know who we are. I don’t think Gio saw me follow him to Sambuca the other day, and I’m pretty sure Izzy just thought I was a ditzy dame looking for the bathroom. If they’re going to murder anyone else, it’ll probably be Megan or Mendoza.”
We fell silent again, each lost in our own thoughts. Mine, I admit, were not altogether pleasant. I didn’t want Gio or Izzy to come after me, no, but I didn’t want either of them going after Mendoza, either. Or Megan.
“Hopefully the whole case will be wrapped up soon,” Rachel said, “and we don’t have to worry about it anymore. The police will wrap up the money laundering investigation, Jaime and his colleague will be safe, and someone will admit to the murder, whether it’s mob related or not.”
I nodded. “I guess we’re hoping for Sal or Mrs. Miller, then. Or Jacquie.”
“I guess so,” Rachel agreed. “It would be a shame if it was our client, but at least if they arrested her, I think we’ve dug up enough suspicious circumstances surrounding everyone else that her lawyer could make a case for reasonable doubt.”
“If she’s guilty I want her to go to prison,” I said firmly, “whether she’s our client or not.”
She didn’t say anything to that, and I added, “But you’ve got a point. Between Sal and the life insurance, and the mob and Nick’s debt, and Mrs. Miller and her key to Nick’s half of the duplex, and even Kenny and Jacquie, I think even I could get her off on reasonable doubt.”
We sat in silence a moment.
“Let’s turn on a movie,” I said. The sun had set by now, and it was getting dark outside.
Rachel nodded. “We might as well. We’re just going to keep going on circles if we keep talking about this. Might as well do something to distract ourselves. Domestic thriller or romantic comedy?”
She reached for the remote on the table.
We finished off the cheese and most of the second bottle of wine to a rerun of a classic James Bond. One of the early ones, with the suggestive title and Sean Connery in the title role. After that I brought out the ice cream, and finally, around nine-thirty, Rachel announced she should get going.
“Daniel’s supposed to call,” she said, gathering up her purse. “And I should probably be sober enough to hold a coherent conversation.”
“Are you OK to drive home? Should I call an Uber? I can drive your car to the office tomorrow and get a ride home.” We wouldn’t be doing any surveillance tomorrow, so I probably wouldn’t need my own car for anything.
She smiled. “I’m fine. See, walking a straight line and everything.” She held out her arms and placed one foot carefully in front of the other down the hall.
I followed behind her to the door. “Make sure you drive carefully. And Rachel?”
“Yes?”
“I really am happy for you. About Daniel. I hope I’m wrong about him and the bar and everything.”
She squeezed my hand. “I know you do. Thanks for trying.”
