Safe In His Arms

Flipping through the small notebook he’d been consulting, the younger cop read from his notes. “Anise Borden. Self-employed. 6789 Seventeenth Avenue.”

“I thought you said they were married.”

He looked up from his notes. “They are…or were, I guess I should say. But she uses her name. She’s some kinda artist.”

“What else?”

“That’s it.” Carter dropped his voice. “I took a statement from her but maybe you can make more headway. It was ‘yes’ and ‘no’ and not much else. She couldn’t have plugged the guy herself since she was standing right beside him but she’s an icicle.”

“Is she in shock?”

“The medics checked her out and said she’s fine.”

Bishop stared at the widow. “Then I guess I better see what I can do.”

“Good luck. I think you’re gonna need a blow-torch to thaw that one out.”

Bishop made his way toward the woman, stopping first to check with the medical people then talking with some of the other crime scene investigators. He wanted to give her plenty of time. It took some folks longer than others for reality to soak in.

Ten minutes later, when he stood directly before Anise Borden, she lifted her eyes. He would have bet green, but they were blue. A pale, almost colorless blue.

“I’m Daniel Bishop,” he said. “Investigator, HPD. People call me Bishop.”

She held out her hand and he shook it. In contrast to the rest of her polished perfection, her palm was rough, the skin etched with lines. He wondered about it then spoke. “I’m sorry about what happened here tonight. It’s bad enough to lose someone but to have to go through this, too.”

“Thank you,” she said. Her voice was low and soft, as controlled as her expression. “Can you catch whoever did this?”

“We intend to,” he said. “But we’ll need your help.”

“Of course. I’ll do whatever I can.”

He studied her as she spoke, the details he’d missed from down the street registering now. Beneath the white jacket, she wore jeans and a black T-shirt. She didn’t have on a wedding band, but the rest of her jewelry, a gold chain and hoop earrings, was simple and elegant. He’d dated a woman once who worked at Tiffany’s and she’d told him nice jewelry was like a designer swimsuit—the less there was to it, the more it cost. An equally expensivelooking leather handbag sat at Anise Borden’s feet. It was covered in blood.

He asked her to tell him what had happened and she did, her manner composed. He interrupted once to ask her to point out where she’d been standing and when she finished, he spoke bluntly.

“I’ll need to question you more later but the first thing I want to ask is the most obvious. Do you have any idea who might want him dead?”

She blinked then looked him straight in the eye. “I know exactly who wanted him dead. Unfortunately I don’t have a clue what her name is.”

THE TALL COP DIDN’T REACT to her words. He simply nodded. “Tell me more.”

Anise handed him Kenneth’s cell phone. “He got a call right as we were leaving the bar. I answered it because he was in the restroom. It was a woman and she said—no, she promised—she would see him dead.”

“That must have been upsetting.”

“I was surprised, to say the least. When he came out, I gave him the phone and asked him about it, but he said it wasn’t important. He said he had a client who was in trouble with the IRS and she’d been threatening him for quite some time.”

“What was her name?”

“He didn’t tell me. We walked to the curb and then…” She stopped and gathered herself. “Then he was shot.”

“What did Mr. Capanna do?”

“He’s an attorney. A tax attorney. He helped people manage their income so their taxes would be as low as possible. He assisted with audits and things like that—”

She broke off when she looked at her hands. They were still red with Kenneth’s blood, the lines and scars filled with it. If she didn’t know better she would have thought she’d been using Gamblin’s alizarin crimson with maybe a bit of cadmium red medium thrown in to bring out the blue. The color under her nails would have matched the paint perfectly. Her chest went tight in midbreath, a band of disbelief cutting off air as the cop spoke again.

“Had he lost any big cases lately? Someone who might be mad at him?”

She shrugged in an expression of helplessness. “I don’t know. He said he was having problems at the office but I wasn’t listening….”

“What’s the name of his firm?”

“He has an office off Richmond and Sage. The name of his company is Capanna and—”

Before she could finish, the sound of Sarah’s strident voice cut through the crowd of milling cops and curious bystanders. Anise jumped to her feet, her eyes searching for her friend. A second later she spotted her and began to wave. “Sarah! Over here!”

Sarah started forward but a uniformed woman reached out and stopped her. The argument escalated until Anise turned to the man beside her and put her hand on his arm. “Please tell them it’s okay. She’s my friend.”

He looked over Anise’s head and called out someone’s name. The cop who’d been restraining Sarah turned, saw Bishop, then lifted the tape. A moment later, Sarah was there, her strong arms wrapping Anise in a hug that almost made her break down. She managed to pull herself together before she did and introduced Sarah to the investigator.

Sarah ignored Bishop. “My God, Anise, what happened? Robin and I were leaving the gallery and the lights caught our attention so we came down to see what was going on. Then I—I saw Kenneth. I don’t understand….”

“I don’t, either,” Anise answered. “We walked outside the restaurant and someone shot him. Just like that. Out of the blue. I…I don’t know why or who or—”

The policeman interrupted Anise’s stuttering explanation. “I’m sorry, I know this is difficult, but I have to ask you some more questions. Perhaps your friend could wait?”

Sarah turned to the cop with the fury of a mother bear. “You’re going to have to ask those questions later, Mr. Bishop. This woman is in shock and I need to get her to a hospital. In fact, I can’t believe you’re holding her here like this! Can’t you see she’s shaking?”

Anise tried to intervene but she realized Sarah was right. She had begun to tremble—violently. She clenched her teeth in an effort to make the quivering stop but it didn’t work. Lifting her gaze to Bishop’s, she spoke. “I…I think Sarah might have a point. Could this wait?”

Anise could see he wanted to refuse, but when their eyes met, he couldn’t. A wave of gratitude hit her as he gave in.

“Of course,” he said. “We have your address. I’ll be by as soon as I finish up here.”

THEY ARGUED BRIEFLY over whether or not Anise should go to the hospital. Disagreeing with Sarah was generally a pointless activity but this time, Anise won. She didn’t bother to question why; she just closed her eyes and let Sarah drive her home. By the time they arrived, her trembling had subsided but on the inside a sick feeling had started to take hold.

“You go take a hot shower,” Sarah instructed once they were inside. “I’ll make some tea.” She started down the narrow hallway to the kitchen then stopped. “Why don’t you give me your clothes? I’ll take care of them.”

Anise looked down at her bloody jacket. “I can’t,” she said woodenly. “The police…they want them. Could you get me a paper bag?”

Sarah nodded, then hurried down the hall. When she came back, a brown grocery sack in her hands, Anise was standing in the same spot. Sarah led her to the bathroom. Pulling the shower curtain, she twisted the faucets on full force. “Can you get undressed by yourself?”

“I think so.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen. Call me if you need me.”

“I will.”