A Killing Gift

Dr. Gloss had sniffed the body for the odor of Tiger Liniment, but Birdie Bassett's body had smelled only of its own waste that she'd excreted at the moment she'd died. And she'd smelled faintly of perfume, blood oranges and roses.

Kathy made an impatient noise, and April changed the subject. 'Can you add anything to what we know about Harry?'

'Forget Harry. I want to know what's the link between the two victims?' Kathy returned to the question that prompted her call. She wanted her brother well off the hook. That was all she cared about right now.

'Both victims had a spouse die recently. They'd both inherited big money.' April's voice cracked on the words big money because she didn't want this bit of news to surface in the media. 'Keep this to yourself, Kathy. Let's not make it a circus, okay?'

Then April shivered with excitement. No one in the investigation had copped to the fact that both victims had money and both were alums of York University. Marcus didn't know it, and Mike didn't know it. Only she and Kathy knew it. April loved having an edge, even if she'd keep it for only about ten seconds. There was nothing overtly competitive about her.

'Tell me about Harry.' April was back on Harry, relishing the few moments of relative peace in the car with her maniac driver before she'd have to move into the murk of the new victim.

Kathy clicked her tongue. 'Bill told me about the racehorse. That's a crock, you know.'

'You mean, your dad wouldn't give Harry a few hundred grand to buy a horse?'

'Not a few hundred anything!' Kathy exploded.

'Even in special circumstances?'

'No!'

'What about Bill-would he give money to Harry?'

'Are you nuts?' The suggestion made Kathy ballistic.

April paused to give her another moment to speculate. Come on, Kathy, don't make me hurt you, she thought.

'Look, I've been thinking about it a lot,' Kathy admitted finally.

'Uh-huh.' April was sure she had.

'I don't know. The truth is, Dad had been acting a little off before he died.'

'How off?'

'I told you this before. Obviously he was secretive. You know Mom was into the lottery, but I didn't know how it works. Call me crazy. I didn't know it came in so fast, and I didn't know what he did with it. I know he was depressed about his future. He kept talking about living in a hotel, sitting on a park bench. Crazy stuff. I didn't know he was looking for a house in Florida. There was a lot of stuff I didn't know.'

'Do you think he was feeling guilty?'

'For surviving Mom? I'm sure. He thought he'd neglected her.'

'What about that and distributing money to Bill and Harry? Maybe guilt for excluding you was what you heard in his voice.'

'Jesus, April. Don't go there. I knew Dad. He was my buddy. Why would he do that to me?' But Kathy wasn't sure now. April could hear it in her voice.

'Maybe your dad had a plan for you, too,' she said. 'Maybe the check was supposed to be in the mail and just didn't get to you.'

'He would have told me,' she said quietly. 'He was a careful man. I'm sure he would have told me.'

April had planned to save this for a time when the two of them were sitting face-to-face, but she went ahead because she didn't know when that time would be. 'He didn't tell you everything, Kathy. He had your mother cremated.'

'Oh, Jesus. That's a crock, too. Where did you hear that?'

'We know he did,' April said softly. She didn't have to offer proof. It was in the computer if Kathy cared to look.

'Oh, sure, and where are the ashes? She had a funeral. I saw her buried. She didn't have an open casket because of how bad she'd looked. But I did see her buried.'

'I know you did. What did you see her buried in?'

'A casket, of course. Where are you going with this?' Kathy was furious, but she sounded nervous, too.

'Okay, good. She was buried in a coffin. Maybe our information is wrong. Look, Kathy, I'm sorry about all this. We'll straighten it out, okay?' Lorna was buried in a coffin? April shivered. Something wasn't right; she could feel it.

'Where are you going with this, April? I need to know what you're doing,' Kathy demanded.

'I'm doing whatever I have to, Kathy. Your father was a friend of mine.' April was puzzled. What picture was she seeing?

'Fuck you. It doesn't sound like it,' Kathy muttered before she hung up.

Thirty-eight

April's stomach knotted up as they continued north on Park Avenue. She felt bad about Kathy. Something was way off between her and her dad, also between her and her brother. It appeared that Kathy had been out of the loop as far as the family finances were concerned, and she sounded concerned about the murder rap threatening her brother. But April knew her distress went a lot deeper than that. Now she had to worry about her mother's ashes. What was that all about? April was getting a creepy idea, but she pushed it away as traffic slowed them down in Midtown.

By the time they got to Fiftieth Street, she'd stopped brooding about the Bernardinos. Ten minutes later, when she and Woody got to the tenth-floor Bassett apartment, she had other things to be concerned about. For one thing no uniform was there to secure the victim's home. Here was another unsettling parallel with the Bernardino case. The heirs had gotten here first.

'Okay, okay. I heard you. Come in if you're coming in.' Brenda Bassett opened the door for the two detectives, then quickly turned her back on them.

April stepped inside and was stopped dead by the magnificence of a rose-colored marble floor in a gallery hung with oil paintings of horses and dogs in various hunt modes and dead animals in small still-lifes. Also portraits of richly dressed people picnicking on flawless lawns in front of grand houses. A huge chandelier lit the hall. Under the chandelier was an ornate table inlaid with tortoiseshell, mother-of-pearl, and brass. Under that was a thick Oriental carpet in bright blues and reds. Way over the top, it was just the sort of place to which a cop from a string- decorated house in Queens could really relate. It was the kind of display that only big money could swing.

Brenda Bassett walked around the center table to a mahogany door on the other side. She was a tall woman, probably close to six feet in high heels, and thinner than a healthy person should be. Ms. Bassett had no bosom and no fanny, and it struck April as perverse that someone with so much money wouldn't eat. To the Chinese, food was pretty much everything. Most memories of luxury and excess were of eating, never of going hungry.

April blew her breath out as Brenda led the way through a door into a dark wood-paneled library where the walls were lined with a collection of books that looked as old as the paintings in the hall. Ms. Bassett turned and seated herself in one of several leather wing chairs, and April got to see her face. Her features were all angles. She had a long, straight nose, slab-sided cheekbones, a sharp chin, and razor-blade lips-the kind that couldn't be improved with lipstick. Her hair was black and blunt-cut.

The man, who stood near the desk, was five-eight, and had a heavy build, no chin, little hair, and moist pink lips set in soft round cheeks. April didn't have to examine him closely to catch the dazed look of an all-night drinker who'd been forced out into the daylight way too early. Boyfriend, brother, lawyer? A messy pile of papers and other small items on the desk indicated that a search had been in process. The man put some space between himself and the desk and sat gingerly in another wing chair.

'I'm Sergeant April Woo. And this is Detective Baum,' April said. Woody took his at-ease position by the door, and she waited for a cue to sit. It didn't come.