know the back stairs lead right up to the hall outside your bedroom.”
She hadn’t thought about that. He could see it in her eyes. “It…it was just a party.”
He sighed. “Tell me who was here, if you can remember.”
“I have the list. I had a guest book, and afterward, I put the names into a database.”
Brody stared. “A database?”
She shrugged and her cheeks turned pink. “For holiday cards.”
“Okay. Who?”
“Gary Zelke, Miles Landis—he’s Taylor Landis’s brother—Tammy and Kenneth Sutton, actually the whole homeowners’ association dropped by.”
“Link Hathaway?”
“Yes, and his daughter, Margaret.”
“What about Briggs?”
“He hadn’t moved in yet.”
“And I don’t guess Carlson was there.”
“No, thank goodness. But Jane Majorsky was.”
“The woman whose bracelet was stolen? What about the others—Dalloway or Amanda Winger?”
“I don’t remember. I’ll get you the database.”
“So that’s it? One party two and a half years ago?” He wasn’t sure he believed her. “No more parties?”
Clouds gathered in her green eyes. “I’m not much of a party person.”
“Yeah? So if you’ve never had another party, what about your holiday-card list? They come around to visit you one at a time?”
“Are you saying that one of them did this?” Her words may have sounded indignant, but her voice didn’t. She knew it was true. She just didn’t want to know.
“It’s likely that one of them hired someone—I’m sure most of the people on your list couldn’t or wouldn’t kill someone with their bare hands. But if I could narrow the suspect list to fifty people, I’d be happy.”
She looked like she’d happily rip her tongue out if it meant she didn’t have to answer any more questions. “There aren’t fifty people anymore.”
Now he was getting somewhere. He wasn’t sure where. “Right. Zelke is dead.”
Her gaze wavered. “Yes, and…”
“And?”
“Well, my ex.”
Her ex? Ex-what? he wondered, and stopped his thoughts right there. It didn’t matter. “He’s not in the picture any longer?”
She paused, not looking at him. The tiny laundry room seemed to shrink as Brody tried to maintain his detachment. It shouldn’t make a bit of difference to him whether she was in a relationship or not.
“No.”
The word was curt.
Brody started to ask where the guy was, when suddenly Victoria stiffened and a hand flew to her mouth.
“Dear heavens, that’s it!”
Brody’s pulse jumped. “What’s it?” He reached for her. “Are you okay?”
“Sorry, I’m fine. I just remembered something. He was wearing cologne. Expensive cologne.” Her face was transformed. “I should have recognized it right away. It’s called Torture. It’s a top brand in Europe. My ex used it. I think because he liked the name.”
Brody frowned. “You’re saying the perp smelled like this expensive cologne? So what kind of expensive are we talking about? Expensive as in I’m worth it or expensive as in if you have to ask?”
If Victoria Kirkland thought it was expensive, it must be made from unicorn blood or something.
Her mouth quirked up. “Expensive as in nobody’s worth that. It’s over two hundred dollars an ounce for the cologne. I bought my ex a bottle one Christmas.”
“So I guess he was worth it.”
“Like I said, nobody’s worth that.”
Brody took a small notebook out of his jacket pocket and jotted down the name of the cologne. Beside it he made a note to check with the other break-in victims to see if they remembered the scent. It was a long shot. The scent could easily have faded before the victims got home. The only two who could verify that the perp was wearing expensive cologne were dead.
“So what kind of ex was he? Husband?”
That question was totally irrelevant and Victoria’s face told Brody she knew it. So he tried to make it relevant. “Could it have been your ex who attacked you? Maybe he still has a key?”
The storm clouds were back in her eyes. “What kind of question is that? There have been seven break-ins—eight now. Two of my friends have been killed. And you’re trying to turn this into a lovers’ spat? I can assure you it wasn’t my ex-fiancé.”
“What’s his name?”
“It wasn’t him.” Her voice was harsh.
Brody met her gaze.
To her credit and his surprise she didn’t flinch. She lifted her chin. “Rayburn Andrews.”
Brody’s eyebrows shot up. “The heir to the cosmetics fortune? I thought he died.”
Victoria’s eyes closed briefly. “He went down in his private plane on a trip to Cancun.”
“Sorry,” he said automatically. Her words conjured up unwelcome memories of his parents. Was her ex a jet-setting thrill-seeker like they were? Was she?
“So we’ve got a perp who can get past security alarms and into a secure penthouse, and who wears super-expensive cologne.”
He thought about his long list of suspects. “Who else do you know who wears—” he glanced at his notepad “—Torture?”
“Unfortunately, I’ve noticed it a lot of places. It’s become ridiculously popular, probably because it’s so expensive.”
Brody raised his brows.
“It’s a distinctive scent, but it smells horrible if someone uses too much. I’ve noticed it, but I’m not sure I can say for sure on who. I really don’t pay attention.”
“Well, if you notice anybody, tell me.” He glanced around the spacious penthouse. “You need to beef up your personal-security system, have them take that damn fifteen-second delay off the alarm.”
“So you really think he’ll try again?”
“He’s
