“So it shouldn’t be a big deal for you to answer a couple of questions. Five minutes of your time is all I ask.”
He folded his arms over his chest. On his biceps there was a tattoo of a coiled snake holding a broken heart. “You’re gonna twist my words like those other reporters did.”
“I won’t. I just want to hear your side of the story.” And then, without waiting for a no answer, she said, “You used to live on the Landover estate, didn’t you?”
He glanced at his buffed nails. “Yeah, I had a guest cottage near the garage.”
“You must have had a sense of how Landover’s relationship was going with Kit. Do you think he could have killed her?”
Borelli’s face hardened. “Sure, he could have killed her. The guy had a temper, and I saw him slap Kit in the face once.”
“You tell the cops?”
“I sure did.” He leaned toward her, his tall frame towering over her. “Kit was afraid of Pierce. And I think she’d have backed out of the marriage if she could have. But she was afraid to.”
“She told you she was afraid?”
“Yeah. A couple of times.” He was a hard one to read.
“Why would Mr. Landover kill Kit on their wedding day? Especially with half the world watching.”
Borelli shrugged. “Who the hell knows? Rich people are different than the rest of us. All I know is that they fought often those last few weeks. Even on their wedding day they got into it. You hear a lot when you’re sitting in the front seat of a car.”
“What did they fight about?”
“Anything and everything. Mostly, he just didn’t like the way she flirted with other men. And she didn’t like being told what to do.”
This was a side of Kit she’d never heard about. “Did she flirt with anyone in particular?”
“Naw. She just liked men. And she really enjoyed wrapping them around her finger.” He frowned as if a memory jabbed at him. Abruptly, he moved around her to the threshold of his apartment. “I’ve said what I’m going to say. You’re making me miss Wheel of Fortune.”
Tara thought about the pictures she’d collected of Kit during her research. A sharp intelligence burned behind her sapphire eyes. “What about the missing gems? She was wearing fifteen million in ice when she vanished. Any theories on that?”
“How would I know? I’m guessing that whoever killed her must have taken them.” He leaned against the door frame, letting his gaze trail over her body. A smile played at the edge of his mouth.
When Kirkland’s gaze had glided over her this morning, she’d felt a thrill of desire. This guy gave her the creeps. “She was from California?”
“Yeah. Northern California. Wine country.”
“Did she ever keep up with anyone from her past?”
“Kit wasn’t the type that looked back.”
“If Pierce didn’t kill her, any thoughts on who else might have murdered her?”
“If I knew, I’d have told the cops. But I still say that it was Landover.” He flexed his biceps and the snake appeared to move. “So why you asking all these questions now? Kit’s yesterday’s news.”
“She was a beautiful woman and she died young, like Marilyn Monroe or Anna Nicole Smith. People never get tired of hearing about those women. Even after years, their deaths are still shrouded in conspiracy theories.”
“You’re wrong. Kit’s old news. Nobody cares about a spoiled, dead socialite.”
She tried to keep her voice casual. “You said dead socialite. So you’re sure she’s dead.”
He paused a beat to gather his thoughts. “She has to be dead. All that blood. No one could have survived.”
“No body was found,” she prompted.
Borelli grinned and, leaning forward, whispered, “Disposing of bodies is easy, lady. Just takes a few garbage bags and a saw.”
A shudder ran through her body. She’d interviewed enough career criminals to recognize one. “You speaking from firsthand experience?”
He winked at her. “My advice to you is butt out. Or you might end up like Kit.”
Her stomach knotted with tension, but she held her ground. “That a threat?”
Borelli smiled. A gold incisor glittered. “Friendly warning. Now go find yourself another story and stay out of my life.” He retreated into the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
Tara stared at the closed door and dug her hand through her hair. “Not exactly a home run, but it’s a start.”
She checked her watch. She had time for one more interview before her shift at the bar where she worked nights. She had taken a sizable pay cut to move north. Reporting now barely kept a roof over her head, and she needed the second job to pay off the mountain of student loans from college.
Reston and Borelli had been difficult but she suspected her next interview was going to be worse. She had to find a way to get into the exclusive Founders’ Yacht Club and speak to some of Kit’s old friends.
She’d not been to the club in a long time, and didn’t relish returning.
Alex spent the better part of the morning trying to forget Tara. But her visit had awakened so many unanswered questions that lingered from the Kit Westgate case.
He paced his office floor, ignoring the ache in his leg. Tara had said she was going to talk to Pierce. But he knew she would never get past Landover’s assistant. Mrs. Reston had made hardened cops cringe. And if Tara thought she’d get quotes from any of the old man’s friends, she was also mistaken. Boston society was an elite, closed group that didn’t like airing dirty laundry.
But Alex could step into Landover’s exclusive world. He’d been born into one of the wealthiest families in the state. He’d done his undergrad at Princeton and earned his law degree from Harvard. He’d been groomed to take over the Kirkland empire. And then his cousin had been slain by a mugger. The incident had rocked the family and changed the direction of his life. He’d quit the family business and joined the police force. The decision had cost him personally. His wife, Regina, hadn’t understood the decision and had left him. His parents and brother were also furious with him. Even now his relationship with his family was strained.
But he’d never regretted his decision for a moment. He belonged in the police department.
Alex dialed Detective Brady’s extension. Seconds later, the cop appeared at his door. “What do you need, Sergeant?”
Rising, Alex put the brunt of his weight on his good leg. “I’m going out for an hour or two. I want to follow up on a lead associated with the Kit Westgate case.”
“You have a lead after a year?” Brady sounded surprised. “What is it?”
“Let me chase it down first. It most likely won’t play out.”
“No problem.” Brady offered a crooked smile. “This got anything to do with Tara Mackey showing up here this morning?”
Alex wondered when he’d become so transparent. “Unfortunately, yes. She’s going to do a piece on the anniversary of Kit’s disappearance.”
“Jeez. That’s all we need.”
“To her credit, she raised a few good questions.”
Brady shook his head as if he were talking to one of his own