why somebody would do such a terrible thing. I don't understand it."
"Neither do I," I said truthfully. The guy had been a dick, but that shouldn't have cost him his life.
She looked like she was about to cry, but she took a deep breath and got herself under control. "He was so wonderful to me," she said. "I can't believe he's gone. I've been with ... other guys, but he was the only man I really gave myself to."
Need-to-know basis. Please!
"He was so sweet. He worried that I'd think he was too old, but that didn't matter. For me, it was love at first sight that day at the tryouts."
"He told me he thought you were something special," I said.
She smiled. "I couldn't believe it when he asked me out that night. This great-looking man of the world, who'd been to so many places and done so many things. And he was interested in
me
. Not just in having sex with me. There've been nights when all we did was talk and laugh and not make love at all.
"Did Rudy tell you we were going to be married?"
The question caught me off guard. Luckily, before I could decide whether or not to lie, her mood turned down again and she began to weep. I'd never thought of myself as a father figure, not to mention a grief counselor, but I had no problem putting my arm around her and giving her my Zegna pocket square to mop up her tears.
"He's gone forever," she moaned.
I let her cry against my shoulder and stared at a comic-book room that, in spite of its eccentric touches and bursts of color, had grown quite dreary.
Eventually her body stiffened and she pulled away, moving into another stage of grief. She used my sixty-five-dollar pocket square to blow her nose furiously. "Some bastard took Rudy from me," shesaid, anger distorting her lovely face. "Business deal, bullshit. Murder business."
"I don't understand," I said.
"He was working on some deal that he said would make it possible for us to get married."
"What kind of deal?" I asked.
"Television, I guess. Rudy didn't say."
"But you think it could have had something to do with his murder?"
"We were supposed to have dinner at his place last night. Like we'd been doing just about every night. But Rudy called and said we couldn't because this important meeting came up. He said he'd phone me if we could get together later. I waited up until midnight, but ... Oh, God. I was even sort of angry with him because he didn't call."
She began crying again.
I let the questions pile up in my head and waited silently for her to cry herself out.
When she did, I asked if I could get her something. Water? Aspirin?
She shook her head no.
"You must miss him, too," she said.
Before I had to lie and say "Yes," she suddenly reached out and plucked something from the coffee table, a thin, transparent jewel box housing a silver disk. "For a cool guy in his forties," she said, "he could be like a little boy at times. You know what he really loved to do in bed?"
I bit my tongue, shook my head, and hoped for the best.
"Watch TV," she said, pressing the jewel box to her chest. "Old shows that he'd had transferred to DVD. Black-and-white, some of 'em. He loved to lie in bed and watch old TV. Had shelves full of disks. He was in a lot of the shows."
"I guess he was," I said, remembering that Rudy's early career had been on-camera. "Melody, when you spoke with him last night, did he mention any details about the meeting? Where it was? Who'd be there?"
She thought for a moment. "It was at his condo, I'm pretty sure he said. But that's about it."
"Was he meeting with a man or a woman?"
"I got the impression it was a man, but I don't know that he said, really."
"You should probably tell all this to the police," I said.
"Oh, God. No police. I can't go to the police."
"Why not?"
She slid away from me against the sofa, arms crossed, chin tucked, shaking her head back and forth. Totally spooked.
"Okay," I said. "No police."
"It's ... I don't want ... some people to know where I am. And if I go to the police
"Neither do I," I said truthfully. The guy had been a dick, but that shouldn't have cost him his life.
She looked like she was about to cry, but she took a deep breath and got herself under control. "He was so wonderful to me," she said. "I can't believe he's gone. I've been with ... other guys, but he was the only man I really gave myself to."
Need-to-know basis. Please!
"He was so sweet. He worried that I'd think he was too old, but that didn't matter. For me, it was love at first sight that day at the tryouts."
"He told me he thought you were something special," I said.
She smiled. "I couldn't believe it when he asked me out that night. This great-looking man of the world, who'd been to so many places and done so many things. And he was interested in
me
. Not just in having sex with me. There've been nights when all we did was talk and laugh and not make love at all.
"Did Rudy tell you we were going to be married?"
The question caught me off guard. Luckily, before I could decide whether or not to lie, her mood turned down again and she began to weep. I'd never thought of myself as a father figure, not to mention a grief counselor, but I had no problem putting my arm around her and giving her my Zegna pocket square to mop up her tears.
"He's gone forever," she moaned.
I let her cry against my shoulder and stared at a comic-book room that, in spite of its eccentric touches and bursts of color, had grown quite dreary.
Eventually her body stiffened and she pulled away, moving into another stage of grief. She used my sixty-five-dollar pocket square to blow her nose furiously. "Some bastard took Rudy from me," shesaid, anger distorting her lovely face. "Business deal, bullshit. Murder business."
"I don't understand," I said.
"He was working on some deal that he said would make it possible for us to get married."
"What kind of deal?" I asked.
"Television, I guess. Rudy didn't say."
"But you think it could have had something to do with his murder?"
"We were supposed to have dinner at his place last night. Like we'd been doing just about every night. But Rudy called and said we couldn't because this important meeting came up. He said he'd phone me if we could get together later. I waited up until midnight, but ... Oh, God. I was even sort of angry with him because he didn't call."
She began crying again.
I let the questions pile up in my head and waited silently for her to cry herself out.
When she did, I asked if I could get her something. Water? Aspirin?
She shook her head no.
"You must miss him, too," she said.
Before I had to lie and say "Yes," she suddenly reached out and plucked something from the coffee table, a thin, transparent jewel box housing a silver disk. "For a cool guy in his forties," she said, "he could be like a little boy at times. You know what he really loved to do in bed?"
I bit my tongue, shook my head, and hoped for the best.
"Watch TV," she said, pressing the jewel box to her chest. "Old shows that he'd had transferred to DVD. Black-and-white, some of 'em. He loved to lie in bed and watch old TV. Had shelves full of disks. He was in a lot of the shows."
"I guess he was," I said, remembering that Rudy's early career had been on-camera. "Melody, when you spoke with him last night, did he mention any details about the meeting? Where it was? Who'd be there?"
She thought for a moment. "It was at his condo, I'm pretty sure he said. But that's about it."
"Was he meeting with a man or a woman?"
"I got the impression it was a man, but I don't know that he said, really."
"You should probably tell all this to the police," I said.
"Oh, God. No police. I can't go to the police."
"Why not?"
She slid away from me against the sofa, arms crossed, chin tucked, shaking her head back and forth. Totally spooked.
"Okay," I said. "No police."
"It's ... I don't want ... some people to know where I am. And if I go to the police
Similar Books
