knew and pretty much intimidate me into staying out of his business. He slipped some grain alcohol into my wine glass, I assume to loosen my tongue.”
“What did you find out?”
“Not much I didn’t already guess. He denies having anything to do with Rena’s murder.”
“He’s got a solid alibi.”
“Well, check his nephew, Bryan Goldin. I think he’s the one who does the dirty work. Of course, Fen’s got the entire cast of The Sopranos on his payroll, too. But I did uncover something from his past. A woman he’d been sleeping with died under mysterious circumstances in Thailand in 1988. Mona Lisa Toratelli, Lottie Harmon’s sister.”
“Got it. I’ll see what I can find out from Interpol.”
“Great.”
“Clare? You’re sure you’re all right?”
“I’ll be better when Tucker is out of jail and Rena’s killer is arrested.”
“Yeah…listen, I didn’t get anything from Fen, other than a solid alibi, but your blackmail information was a big help with Starkey and Hut. Tad came clean with it and they’re going to help me on the Garcia murder. Even they admit the two poisonings are likely linked and there might be another perp involved.”
“Not another perp,” I insisted. “An altogether different perp.”
“One step at a time, Detective Cosi.”
I smiled, actually picked up the slight teasing in Mike’s tone—no easy feat, considering the man usually maintained a poker voice to match his poker face. Half the time, reading Quinn was about as easy as reading a brick wall—a blank one, of course, one without a collection of overdressed babes covering it.
“Thanks for calling back, Mike.”
“Sure, Clare.”
I continued to hold the cell to my ear. A long silent moment passed. Neither of us, it seemed, had anything more to say—but neither of us wanted to sign off, either.
“Here you go, sweetheart, fresh coffee!” Matt had returned to the master bedroom with two steaming mugs.
“I have to go now,” I softly told Mike.
“Good night, Clare.”
“Good night.”
I closed the phone and accepted the mug. The warm, nutty fragrance of the dark roast was more than welcome and I drank it down with extreme satisfaction.
“God, I needed that.”
“You’ll need these too.”
Matt dropped two aspirins into my hand and I gulped them down, along with the rest of the water. Then back to the coffee. After a long silence, Matt sat down on the edge of the bed and folded his arms.
“You want to tell me what you told him?”
I squirmed. “Nothing to tell. Really. I just drank too much at the Trend party and then ran into a friend who took me to the Inferno, where I saw Joy.”
“Liar.”
“Oh, Matt. It’s close enough to the truth. Just let it go.”
“Clare, I’m warning you, don’t get in over your head with this detective game. It’s too dangerous.”
“Please, Matt. Let’s not argue.” I drained the coffee mug and was about to throw the cold cloth over my eyes again when the phone on the nightstand rang. I lunged for the receiver, miraculously snagging it before Matt.
“Hello?” I said.
“Clare, dear, I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, Madame.”
Matt’s eyebrows rose.
“I’ve been thinking,” said Madame in a conspiratorial tone, “about our case, you know?”
Oh, lord, I thought. Please don’t let Matt hear you say that. With my suspicious ex-husband continuing to stare, I carefully asked, “What’s on your mind?”
“Only this…do you think it’s possible Lottie herself is the culprit?”
“Lottie herself?” I hadn’t considered that possibility. “Why would you think that, Madame?”
“Because Lottie may have learned of Tad and Rena’s plan to sell their shares. And Rena would have trusted Lottie. She would have easily taken a poisoned latte from her and drunk it down.”
“True. But why would Lottie have poisoned herself?”
Matt frowned and glowered, finally hearing a phrase that confirmed I was discussing the case with his mother. I twisted away from his disapproving eyes.
“Well, my dear, I thought that through, too,” Madame replied. “It’s possible that Lottie found an accomplice to help her set the whole thing up—that she never intended to drink the poison but only to taste it and then accuse Tad and Rena of poisoning her, but, of course, Ricky Flatt and that poor Jeff Lugar drank down the poison instead. Lottie Harmon may have been trying to gain control of her own label by any means necessary.”
“It’s an interesting possibility, Madame…I can’t deny it.”
“Of course, I could be wrong, but I thought you should hear the theory.”
“Yes…well…” I looked up again to find Matt ready to blow. “I better get some rest now—and so should you. Big day tomorrow!”
“Oh, yes, the