was what? Sunday? Yep, I was here. I attended the seven o’clock lecture. Honestly, I don’t even remember what it was on. They blur. Afterward, I worked out for an hour by myself. Then I drank a little herbal tea with some of the ladies.” He smiled. “You know, trying to drum up a little business. I went to bed around eleven, maybe it was closer to twelve.”
“Did you see Lilah anytime during the evening?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Was she at the lecture?”
“Was she? I don’t remember. My sister, Kelley, might know. She’s the one who’s good with details.”
“So no one can verify where you were between the hours of twelve and seven.”
“Nope. No one. ’Cause I was sleeping by my little lonesome.” Ness shrugged. “Is Lilah unconscious or something? Otherwise, why are you questioning me? She could tell you I didn’t do anything to her.”
“She’s conscious.”
Ness nodded. “That’s good. So just ask her—”
“We intend to question her extensively when she’s feeling better. In the meantime, we haven’t ruled anyone out. You know anyone who might have a bone to pick with Lilah? A disgruntled employee, maybe?”
Ness shook his head. “Everyone loves her. Never heard anyone say a bad word … except … well, he didn’t say anything bad about her. He didn’t say anything about her … which was odd.”
Marge looked at him.
“About two, three months ago, a guy claiming to be Lilah’s brother came here,” Ness said. “Actually he wanted to see Davida because it was her birthday. He had a gift. No one was around. He left the present at reception and split.”
“That was it?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know,” Ness said. “I’d never seen the guy before. He hasn’t been back since. I know how close Lilah is to Freddy. It just struck me as odd that this ‘brother’ would be such a mystery man. He was quite a bit older than her or Freddy. Looked to be in his middle forties. Strange.”
“What was his name?”
“I don’t remember it. I do remember it was a blueblood name, though—like Thurston Howell the Third or something.”
“Does the name King ring a bell?”
He paused, then shook his head. “That wasn’t his name.”
There had been something in Ness’s eyes—a glint of recognition. Marge said, “You’re sure his name wasn’t King something or something King?”
“No, that wasn’t the name on the card.”
“You peeked at the birthday card?”
Ness smiled. “He left his business card along with the present, too. Weird. You ever hear of someone leaving their business card with a present? Especially a family member?”
Marge didn’t answer.
“I figure he’s not a close family member,” Ness said. “He was a doctor, by the way. I saw M.D. after his name on his card.”
“You saw his card but don’t remember his name.”
“Sorry, no.”
“What’d you do with the card?”
“I gave it to Kelley. She probably still has it unless she threw it away. I doubt she did. She’s compulsive. Ask her.”
“I will.” Marge planted a large hand on his bony shoulder. “In the meantime, Mr. Ness, you stay close.”
“No problem, Detective, I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
Marge stood, flipped the cover over her notepad, and toed the tip of the video camera. “What do you do with this?”
Ness picked up the camera. “I tape myself working. To see how I move. I take my job seriously and don’t want to look like an ass in front of the women. You want a peek?”
Marge looked at her watch. “Sure.”
Ness got up. Marge followed him to the back of the Jazzarena. He opened a cupboard. Inside was a thirteen-inch TV attached to ancillary equipment. Ness opened the camera and slid the tape into a video machine. His image filled the monitor, shots of him moving with the grace of a ballet dancer. Marge asked him if he had had lessons.
“Long ago.” Ness’s eyes were fixed to the monitor.
“Unusual for a boy to have ballet.”
“My parents were unusual people.” He turned to her. “Can I eighty-six the tape?”
“Be my guest.”
Ness flipped the switch and the monitor turned dark.
Marge said, “Thanks for your time, Mr. Ness.” As she headed for the door, he called out her name. She turned around.
“Sure you don’t want to stay for yoga? It soothes the savage spirit.”
Marge smiled. “I like my spirit savage, Mr. Ness. It keeps me on my toes.”
Decker leaned against a pink column near the entrance to the spa and read the business card Marge had given him.
John Reed M.D. FACOG
Obstetrics, Gynecology, Infertility
Two phone numbers were printed on the lower right corner; a medical license number was on the lower left. He flipped the card over. Nothing written on the back.
A hot, dry wind whipped through the air, the sun flashing off the chrome bumpers that spangled the parking lot. Decker loosened his tie, unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, and rolled up his sleeves.
“Is this card legitimate?”
“I called the number right before you got here.” Marge checked her watch. “Must have been about four-thirty. It’s a doctor’s office. Apparently Reed had canceled all his afternoon appointments because he was stuck at the hospital for deliveries.”
“Stuck?” Decker said.
“His secretary’s word, not mine.”
“Find out which hospital?”
Marge shook her head. “I asked her but she didn’t answer and I didn’t push it. I don’t even know if he’s relevant to the case. I wasn’t able to get too much out of the receptionist, period, but she did tell me that yes indeed John Reed is Lilah’s and Freddy’s brother.”
Two
