Espresso Shot

Before I could finish, he’d already looked past me and seen the policemen. His face went from perplexed amusement to stricken in less than a second.

“What’s going on? Why is Petra crying? Is Brea

He moved to get around me, but I caught his arm. “It’s Monica Purcell, Brea

“My God, what about Bree? Is she okay? Where is she?”

“She’s not here. She’s working at home this morning. Didn’t she tell you?”

“No. She told me she had a dermatology appointment.”

Dermatology? That sounded odd to me until the light went on. Brea

“I’ve got to find Brea

I noticed Qui

Matt’s greeting was about as warm. “Qui

“Matt,” I said, “before you bolt to find your bride, we all need to talk.”

“About what?”

I gestured to the uniformed police and the sobbing Petra. “Not out here.”

Matt nodded. “There’s a conference room we can use. I know where it is. Come on…”

As Matt led Qui

I nodded, pleased to hear Matteo Allegro was going to take care of the woman he was about to marry-but then my ex always had been a very loving man. (That was his problem, really, he loved women a little too much.)

“She’s bound to be pretty upset,” I said.

“I know.”

The meeting room was large, with buff leather executive chairs, a huge conference table, and a panoramic view of the city skyline. Qui

“Okay. What’s going on?” Matt demanded.

He crossed to take the chair at the head of the conference table, and I brought him up to speed, telling him about the attempted theft of Nunzio’s rings and the suspicious-looking man who’d popped up two times in two days, looking out of place, the second time shortly before Monica Purcell’s body was found. I told him about Winslow and the possible co

Matt rubbed the back of his neck. He looked confused. “What do you mean, ‘questionable’ timing? I thought you said she died from an overdose of prescription medication.”

“She could have. But the prescriptions are bogus and appear to be illegal. And given the kind of people she’s gotten herself involved with, I’m betting the drugs she took this morning were purposely tainted.”

“Hmmm.” Qui

“Then don’t look so surprised.”

Qui

“Okay. So the key to this whole mess really comes down to this chemist, this Stuart Winslow.”

Matt closed his eyes. “Wait a minute! What chemist?”

“I’ll lay it out again, Matt, slower this time. But you have to pay attention and try to keep up.”

Qui

“We know that Monica phoned a chemist named Stuart Winslow. I overheard the call. So we know that Winslow cared very much about when Nunzio’s rings were arriving and what was going to happen to them. We know Monica witnessed Brea

Matt leaned back in his chair. “Jeez.”

“I don’t know who this Stuart Winslow is, or how he’s co

Matt scratched the back of his head. “But if this Winslow guy is the one who tried to run Brea

I drummed my fingers on the table then stilled when it hit me. “Maybe it was Monica who wanted Brea

“Maybe isn’t going to solve this, Clare,” Qui

“No,” I said. “It’s up to us to get to the bottom of it.”

“How?” Matt asked.

I met Qui

TWENTY-TWO

STUART Allerton Winslow lived in The Residential, a massive, prewar apartment building along Seventy-second Street. It was the kind of place that featured all the amenities: solid construction, firewalls and soundproofing, working fireplaces, a twenty-four-hour doorman, a laundry room, and a health club in the basement.

The Residential sat between Broadway and Central Park West, just a few blocks away from the steepled facade of The Dakota, the Gothic-Victorian landmark building where John Le

We couldn’t see Strawberry Fields from our current location. We couldn’t even see outside. In the stairwell of The Residential, between the ninth and tenth floors, the window-panes were glazed to admit only light. The thick walls and steel-frame construction muted the city sounds, too, so the stairwell was eerily quiet, except for the insistent voice of Detective Mike Qui

“This is a bad idea, Clare. I can have a female detective here inside of twenty minutes. Let her do the heavy lifting. That’s what she’s trained for.”

I shook my head so vigorously I got a warning from Sergeant Sullivan.

“Don’t move or you’ll mess me up here,” Sully said. “And lift your blouse a little higher, please.”

He was kneeling beside me, taping a long wire to my bare midriff. Sullivan’s hands were warm, but the tape was cold, and there was a draft, too. I shivered.

“Listen, Mike,” I said. “No stranger can walk in there and pull this off. This Winslow has to believe that I’m a friend of Monica’s for the plan to work. He saw me in Fen’s during Brea

“You’ve told me this already. The only trouble is, we don’t know if this big guy you’ve seen is actually Winslow-”

“Excuse me, there, Ms. Cosi, but this microphone part has to go a little, er, higher.” Sully looked up at his partner. “Maybe you should do it, Mike.”

Sully stood up and turned around while Mike ran the thin wire through my bra and tucked the tiny microphone between my breasts. I shivered again, only this time it wasn’t the cold. I tried to catch Mike’s eye, but he avoided my gaze.

“Cover up, Cosi,” he murmured.

I dropped my blouse, and Sully faced us again. The sergeant was wearing headphones, and he handed another headset to Qui

I locked eyes with Qui

“Loud and clear.” Sully gri

Qui