was very special.”
The use of the past tense told me that unlike Alexa, he had heard of Becca’s passing. “We found her body yesterday,” I told him.
His poker face slipped seamlessly into place. Whether he was saddened or relived by the fact that she was gone was a total mystery. “I heard,” he said.
“She was killed in North Hollywood. Right where you dropped her off,” I added.
“How horrible,” came his monotone reply.
“Which means,” I prompted, “that you were the last person to see her alive.”
He paused, his eyes going from Dana to me. “Not quite,” he countered. “Her
I raised an eyebrow his way. “Interesting distinction.”
“An accurate one,” he said, his meaning clear.
“Coincidental that she died right after you dropped her off.”
Goldstein sat back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “The police have determined the time of death?”
I paused. Honestly? I had no idea what the police had determined. I was kind of avoiding the police in general and one lead homicide detective specifically. “I’m not sure,” I admitted.
“Well, you found her yesterday afternoon. That leaves a very large window of time from when I dropped her off the night before and when you found her. She could have been killed at any time.”
Crap. This guy was good. I made a mental note to call him if I ever had any legal trouble.
I also silently decided it was time to get a peek at the M.E.’s report.
“When you dropped off Becca did you see anyone else around?” Dana asked, switching gears.
He paused. “There were a few people in the area.”
“Any of them approach Becca? Anyone talk to her?”
“Not that I saw. It was dark, and I just dropped her off, then drove away.”
“You dropped her off in a shady part of town, late at night, and just took off?” I asked.
He stared me down, and for a moment I had a horrible glimpse of what it would be like to face him across the witness stand.
“She asked me to drive her home,” he said. “I drove her where she wanted to go. I didn’t know she was going to be killed. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he said rising and gesturing to the open door.
Clearly that was all we were going to get from Mr. Courtroom. So, without much choice, we left.
“He seems guilty if you ask me,” Dana said as we got in the elevator.”
I nodded. “But guilty of what, is the question. Poor judgment? Adultery? Or murder?”
“All three?” Dana asked, shrugging her shoulders.
“What do you think Becca was doing in North Hollywood anyway?” I asked. “I mean, if she’s running for her life, why not have him drop her off at the bus station or the airport?”
Dana nodded. “Good point. Maybe she knew someone in the building?”
I was just about to jump on that theory when the elevator dropped us off in the lobby, and Bill Blaise stepped toward us.
“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low and urgent. I noticed that his wife was conspicuously absent this time.
“What is it?” I asked, as he ushered us to a quiet corner near a potted banana tree.
“This whole thing is very upsetting to my wife,” he said.
I nodded. “I can understand why.”
“She’s feeling guilty for not having done enough for Alexa, even though I’ve told her we did all we could.”
“I’m so sorry. I can only imagine,” I said, honestly meaning it.
“The more questions the police ask, the worse it is for her,” he continued. “What we need is to put this whole thing behind us and move on with our lives.”
“Okay.” I nodded again, not 100% sure where he was going with this.
“Once the funeral is over, I plan to take my wife on an extended vacation. Get her out of town, away from all this.” He paused. “I’d really appreciate it if you could leave our family alone until then.”
I raised an eyebrow his way. “Well, we came here to speak with Goldstein, not you and your wife.”
He paused. “Goldstein. What does he have to do with this?”
I shifted, not entirely sure how much I should share.
“We think he may have been close to Becca. Alexa’s friend.”
His eyebrows furrowed together again. “The one they just found?”
I nodded. “He was the last person to see her alive.”
“And you think he may have had something to do with her death?” he asked, leaning in close. “And Alexa’s?”
“We’re really not sure,” I hedged. “We’re just gathering information at this point.”
He took this all in, his eyes unreadable. “I see. Well, like I said, I’d really appreciate it if you would keep my wife out of it all. I…” he paused, genuine emotion showing behind his eyes. “I just don’t want to see her hurt anymore.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Thank you,” he said. He pursed his lips together, then nodded at both Dana and I before turning away.
But as I watched him walk across the lobby then push through the glass front doors of the building, I couldn’t help but wonder just how much of that speech had been about protecting his wife and how much had been about discerning what we’d just pulled from Goldstein.
“I’m starving,” I said as we got back into Dana’s Mustang. “Any chance we could go grab a burger?”
Dana bit her lip. “Actually, I think we should be getting home.”
“Please, just a quick one?” I pleaded. “I’ll get it to go?”
“Let’s eat at your place,” Dana protested, getting on the 101.
I felt my forehead wrinkling. “Why?”
“Weeell… I just have some stuff to do this afternoon.”
“Stuff?”
“Uh huh.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“You know.” She shrugged. “Stuff.”
“O-kay,” I responded. “Fine. Let’s go to my place. But hurry. I kinda have to pee.”
Once we pulled up to my house, Dana parked in the drive and followed me up the pathway to the front door. I stuck my key in, turned the knob, pushed through the front doors… and was immediately assaulted by dozens of pink and blue balloons.
“Surprise!” about fifteen different people yelled, jumping out from my kitchen. Among them I spotted my mom, Mrs. Rosenblatt, my cousin, Molly, and Marco and his Norwegian bodybuilder, Gunnar.
I blinked. Oh lord. I didn’t know what this was, but it couldn’t be good.
Marco jumped forward, grabbing me in a big bear hug. “Did you know? Did we surprise you? Your mom said for sure you’d know, but I said, ‘No way, she’ll be totally surprised.’”
“I’m totally surprised,” I promised him. “What is this?”
“Your baby shower,” Mom said, coming in for a hug of her own.
I blinked, my eyes going around the room. “Wow, that’s really… wow,” I said, taking in the decorations. My living room had been entirely transformed into a sea of pink and blue streamers. Cardboard baby bottles, pacifiers and carriages had been plastered on every square inch of wall space. And in the center of the room stood a six foot tall, plastic stork.
