Baltimore Blues

Ava didn't strike her as the kind of person who went to work on weekends unless she was trying to impress the boss. If the boss was dead, what was the point?

The parking garage had an elevator leading to the apartments, but one needed a key to summon it. Tess patted her pockets frantically, as if looking for a key ring, until she saw an older woman, loaded down with shopping bags and a bakery box, heading to the elevators. Tess ran toward her, pretending a fit of gracious concern.

'Let me help you,' she practically sang to the woman, taking the box by its red and white string. The woman looked a little nervous, as if Tess might be a mugger who prowled Baltimore parking garages for baked goods, but she didn't protest. When they reached the elevator Tess again made a show of trying to find her keys, but her hands were full of cake.

'Let me,' the woman said quickly. She keyed the elevator, got on, and pushed four. Tess pressed the top button, but insisted on walking the woman to her door. In their three minutes of acquaintance, she told the woman she was new in the building, living in a studio apartment, and studying at the Peabody Conservatory.

'What instrument do you play?' the woman asked politely in the bored tone of someone who couldn't care less.

'I'm a vocalist,' Tess said. 'Soprano, but I have an enormous range. I'll be appearing with the Baltimore Opera this fall.'

Unfortunately this piqued the woman's interest. 'Really? What role? My husband and I are subscribers.'

Tess thought for a moment. She had never been to the opera and, although she knew a few titles, she couldn't describe any plots or name any characters. But there was one opera the local company seemed to produce year after year. She tried to recall the ads she had heard on the radio.

' La Boheme?'

The woman did not notice she had answered in the form of a question. 'Are you singing Mimi? Musetta? Or are you in the chorus?'

They had reached the woman's door. As long as she was committed to lying, Tess decided, she might as well lie big. 'Mimi. I'm playing Mimi. If I don't go to New York first. The Met has a standing offer for me to sing Mimi there.'

The woman, now thrilled, put her packages on a small table inside the door, but she made no move to take the cake box from Tess. Instead she handed her a pen.

'I know it's silly, but could I have your autograph?'

Tess signed the box with a flourish. Teresita L. Mentiroso. If she remembered her high school Spanish correctly, that translated to little Theresa, the liar.

Her opera career behind her, she ran up the stairs to Ava's apartment on the sixth floor. Feeling smug and devious, she rang the doorbell. But when Ava opened the door, her face quickly deflated Tess. She registered no surprise, no interest. For a moment it wasn't clear if she even recognized Tess. What did Rock see in this incurious, self-absorbed woman?

'Well, come in then,' Ava said at last, gesturing with a half-empty glass of white wine.

She led Tess through the apartment toward the terrace without even a perfunctory show of hospitality. Unlike Joey Dumbarton or Frank Miles, Ava did not mistake this visit for a social call.

Her apartment faced the harbor and downtown, which added at least $30,000 to the price, Tess estimated. Whatever the extra cost had been, it appeared to be a stretch Ava could ill afford, even on a lawyer's salary. The one-bedroom apartment had a sparse, undernourished look, and it wasn't because Ava liked minimalism. The apartment simply didn't have enough furniture. And what was there looked shabby and worn. Ava was living paycheck to paycheck.

Once on the terrace, there was only one place to sit, a cheap director's chair with a torn orange seat. Ava took the chair and let Tess have the concrete floor. There was a crystal wine cooler by the chair, a nice one, possibly from Tiffany. But when Ava pulled the bottle out to top off her glass, Tess recognized the label, a Romanian Chardonnay available for less than six dollars, even at package stores, which gouged you. Tess had tried it. Once.

'What do you want now?' Ava said. She sat with her back to the harbor, indifferent to the view. Or perhaps she considered the sunset, a brilliant red orange heightened by the smog, something of a rival. Its warm hues did little for her pale, cool beauty.

'I'm working for Rock's-for Darryl's-lawyer. It's pretty routine stuff, just gathering as many facts as we can about the night of the murder.'

Unlike Joey the security guard, lawyer Ava did not remind her that murder was a legal term. She simply continued to stare at Tess, waiting. Some people, smart people, learn early the power of saying nothing. It forces the other person to gush and stutter. Ava had mastered this. Tess had not. Her mouth, as always, rushed into the breach.

'You were asleep when he left that night, so you can't help us much there. But do you remember what time you got over there and what time you feel asleep?'

'I got there about nine. I was pretty upset, thanks to you. He made me some tea, he held my hand, and I fell asleep. It could have been fifteen minutes later, or forty-five minutes, or an hour. I lost track of time.'

'Good.' Tess ignored the little barb directed at her. 'Now, did you wake up when he came back? Did you notice what time it was? Or did you not wake up until the police came?'

'I can't see why that matters.'

'It sets parameters. The earlier he gets home, the easier it is to prove there was time for someone else to kill Abramowitz.'

Ava smiled, showing dimples but no teeth. 'You can't possibly believe that, can you?'

'It's my job to believe it. What do you believe?'

She leaned forward, as if taking Tess into her confidence. 'Just between us-who else could have done it? Mind you, I don't care. I think it's terribly romantic and, with a good defense, he has an excellent chance of being acquitted. But what are the odds that someone happened to kill Michael the same night Darryl confronted him? It's terribly unlikely, isn't it?'

'Rock told me he's innocent, and that's all I need to know,' Tess said, uneasy to hear Ava ask the question she had asked just six days ago. 'I would expect at least as much from his fiancee.'

'He hasn't told me he's innocent,' Ava said.

'He's been instructed not to speak to you at all, for the time being. What about when the cops came and dragged him out of bed? Didn't you talk then?'

Ava's eyes slid away from hers, and she took a large gulp of wine. 'Well, there wouldn't have been time for confidences then. Right?'

Her tone gave her away. She was testing a theory, seeing if Tess would buy it. If she didn't, presumably another would be offered.

'Not right, Ava. Not even close. You left before he came home, didn't you? You faked falling asleep, then sneaked out as soon as he had gone to do your dirty work for you.'

Ava said nothing.

'Taking the fifth?'

She clenched her jaw muscles so hard they twitched, making a second set of dimples, but she still didn't speak.

'Maybe you killed Abramowitz,' Tess suggested, not because she believed it, but because she wanted to goad Ava into saying something, anything. 'You followed Rock to the office, worried Abramowitz's version of your relationship might not agree with yours. You hid in your own little office, then came out and finished what Rock had started. Or maybe you did it in front of Rock, and he's covering for you.'

'Right. I strangled and beat a man about twice my size.' Ava laughed, a high-pitched girl's laugh learned in grade school and sharpened by years of ridiculing others. 'But, please-go with that theory. I'm sure Darryl would love a defense based on implicating his fiancee.'

'Then tell me why you left his apartment. Were you worried what he might have done? Did you think he might come back and tell you all, making you an accessory? Or did he go down there because you asked him to, because the only way you can prove your sexual harassment story is if Abramowitz isn't alive to give his side?'

Ava started to speak, then sipped her wine again, cooling herself down. 'If I didn't know better I would