"He said that the night Bob and Ken Loy were murdered, he was with you all evening."

Anika closed her eyes. "Yes, I see. And you know that isn't true because you saw me at the Rookery Club."

"You were trying to find him."

Anika nodded.

"So you two couldn't have been together that whole evening."

She gave her head a tight shake, then opened her eyes wide. "You have to understand, Sophie. Andy didn't murder anyone. He couldn't."

"I don't want to hurt you or your husband in any way," said Sophie, "but this puts me in an awkward position. If the police should ask me about that night, I'd have to tell them the truth."

"But why would they ask?" said Anika, leaning toward the desk. "You weren't involved. You'd never even met Ken Loy. And as far as Bob goes, Andy loved his brother. More than that. He idolized him."

Sophie wondered if Anika wasn't protesting too much.

"Listen to me, Sophie. Please. Just let me explain."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"But I need you to understand. Andy's been ill for almost a year. It's more complex than what I just told you. He's seen doctors, but they can't seem to figure out what's wrong. The night Bob died, I was supposed to meet Andy at the Lyme House in Minneapolis for dinner. When he didn't show-and when he didn't answer his cell phone-I wondered if we'd gotten our signals crossed. We eat at the Lyme House fairly often. Our other favorite spot is the Rookery Club. I called over to see if Andy was there. They said he wasn't, but I was upset. I needed to do something to find him, so I drove over. That's when I ran into you. By then, I was pretty angry. I thought he'd stood me up again."

"Again? He's done it before?"

"If he gets involved in his work at the paper, sometimes he loses track of time. And he's terrible about turning off his cell phone and forgetting to turn it back on. He just doesn't think."

"Did you call the paper?"

"Sure. That was the first place I called. He wasn't there. After I got done talking to you, I started to get frightened that he'd had another one of his spells. Maybe he'd been in a car accident."

"Spells?"

"He gets dizzy. Nauseated. And on top of that, he's been incredibly depressed for months."

Sophie wondered if the depression didn't have something to do with what had been happening at the paper-the Del Irazarian business. But dizziness and nausea? That sounded physical.

"About six weeks ago, Andy had this excruciating muscle and bone pain. He couldn't get out of bed. That's when he started having panic attacks. And his body would get very cold. I could see the goose bumps on his skin."

"And the doctors couldn't diagnose it?"

She shook her head. "Andy was desperate. And then, as fast as it came on, it all went away. He's been fine ever since. Oh, he was still restless and depressed, perhaps more than normal, but he wasn't in pain. And then, the night Bob died, it hit again. I drove home after I saw you at the Rookery. I found Andy on the living room couch. He'd been vomiting and his whole body was shaking. He was sweating, but he had terrible chills. He drank some brandy to warm himself up, but he couldn't keep it down. He said he'd been like that for hours."

"Did he have a fever?"

"No. That's the funny part. You'd think, with those symptoms, that it was the flu. But I took his temperature and it was normal. He was in terrible agony, Sophie. He couldn't have been out murdering two men. He could barely stand up."

Or, thought Sophie, he was having a violent physical reaction to what he'd just done.

"Why didn't he call you?"

Again, Anika looked away. "I don't know. But I thought he might die that night, Sophie. He wouldn't let me call for help. He said that doctors didn't know anything, and by then, I had to agree with him. They hadn't been able to help him before. He just wanted me to sit with him, to hold him. By midnight, he seemed a little better."

"You had no idea that Bob had been shot?"

"None. Not until the police came to our apartment early Tuesday morning. Andy was in shock. I thought the news would send him into another spell, but he got through it. The police talked to us for several hours. I told them that Andy had been with me all evening. I know it was a lie, but Andy was simply too sick to have been anywhere but our living room couch."

"What time did you get home that night?"

"Around nine. Andy said he came home straight from work. He thought it was around six."

Sophie recalled what she'd read in the paper. Ken Loy had been shot just before eight, Bob Fabian approximately half an hour later. Andy may have been lying on the couch when Anika got home, but he could easily have done the shootings and been home by nine. For obvious reasons, Sophie wasn't as certain of Andy's innocence as Anika was. Did that mean she was obligated to tell the police what she knew?

"Andy made all the arrangements for the funeral," continued Anika. "He barely survived the ordeal. When it was over, he went to bed and stayed there for several days. He's pretty upbeat right now, but that could change any second. I hate to think I'm leaving a man who has some terrible disease, but the truth is, we've had a marriage in name only for almost a year. I can't continue to live this way." She took a deep breath, then continued. "You see why I can't quit my job. I have no idea what the future holds for me. I don't give a damn about Bob Fabian's money. Andy can keep every dime of it as far as I'm concerned."

"You need to take this one step at a time," cautioned Sophie. "You may feel that way now, but in a year or two, you may change your mind. Andy would want to be fair."

"I don't care about fair, Sophie. Is it fair of me to leave a man who's in so much trouble?"

Sophie shook her head. "I can't answer that."

"The thing is, I know what Andy will do. He'll blame himself, just like he always does." She covered her face with her hands. "How can I leave a man I still love? It kills me to watch what's happening to him and not be able to help."

Sophie's heart went out to her.

Keeping her head down, Anika hugged her body and rocked slowly. Tears streamed down her cheeks. After nearly a minute, she looked up. "I shouldn't dump this on you, Sophie."

"I'm here for you anytime you need me. That's what friends are for."

Anika sniffed, wiping the tears from her face with the tissue in her hand. "We'll be all moved in by the end of the week. That will be a load off my shoulders."

"Moved in where?" asked Sophie.

"Didn't I tell you? Andy insisted we move into Bob's place. I can't imagine anything more ghoulish, but Andy doesn't see it that way. He's got an old friend coming to visit on Friday and I get the feeling he wants to impress him with his newfound wealth."

"That's not like Andy."

Anika shook her head, then shrugged. "Like I said, I don't know him anymore. The really sad thing is, Sophie, maybe I never did."

22.

Bram had just finished dressing when he heard the phone ring. Picking it up in the bedroom, he heard his daughter's voice wishing him a merry Wednesday morning.

"Let's have breakfast together," she said. "Just you and me."

"What about Sophie?"

"Can't we make it just a father-daughter thing? Come on, Dad. It's not like Sophie's my mom or anything. I need time with you just by myself."

Bram and Sophie had planned to have breakfast together downstairs at the Fountain Grill. But Bram assumed Sophie wouldn't mind if he passed on it this morning. Breakfast wasn't a big deal. "Sure. You've got a date."

"I'll meet you over at the Rookery Club. I can show you where we plan to do Nathan and Elaine's wedding. It's going to be incredibly spectacular, especially after our lighting guy gets done with it."

"You have a lighting guy?"

"Daaaad," she brayed. "I'm a professional. I'm not playing at this."

"Sorry."

Bram wasn't the least bit interested in Nathan's wedding plans, but as a father, he needed to show his daughter that he was rooting for her new company, so he'd simply have to swallow hard when Nathan's name came up and cheer his daughter on. "What time?"

"Half an hour. I've already made reservations."

"You think you can talk your old man into anything, huh?"

"Something like that. See ya."

Bram spent a moment checking his look in the mirror. He straightened his tie, flashed himself one of his more devastating smiles, then grabbed his wallet and keys off the top of a chest and headed into the hallway. He found Sophie standing at the window in the living room, looking out at the Mississippi River. She was holding a mug of coffee and seemed to be deep in thought.

He quietly slipped up behind her.

"You smell good," she said, leaning back against him.

"You seem pensive this morning."

She sighed. "I didn't sleep well."

"Something you ate?"

"Something I learned." She turned and hugged him close.

"Anything I can help you with?"

"I didn't mention it last night, because I needed time to think. We can discuss it at breakfast."

Bram cleared his throat. "Honey?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you be terribly disappointed if we didn't have breakfast together today?"

She stood back. "You got called to the station?"

"Not exactly."

Her look grew more measuring. "Margie."

He gave her his cheeriest grin. "You read me like a book. She wants to have breakfast with me over at the Rookery Club so she can show me how the plans are going for Nathan's wedding."

Sophie winced.

"It's okay. I'm getting used to hearing his name several dozen times a day."

Sitting down on the couch, she said, "I asked him specifically not to get Margie and her company involved."

"Well, it's a done deal. We just have to make the best of it." He could tell Sophie was chewing on something sour. "Are you mad at me for standing you up?"

She glanced up at him. "Oh, honey. No, it's not that. It's Nathan. I simply don't want him in my life anymore, but the harder I try to get rid of him, the more ways he finds to link us together."

Bram sat down next to her. He balled up his fists and socked her gently in the arm. "Want me to punch him out? Huh? Huh?"

She laughed. "I don't think that's exactly your style."

"Maybe not now. But remember, I grew up on the South Side of Chicago. My given name was Leroy- but I changed it for aesthetic purposes. I learned a few tricks when I was a kid."

"I wish they were magic tricks and you could make Nathan disappear in a puff of smoke."

"You're really bothered by him." He didn't want to admit it out loud, but her words made him glow inside like a seven-hundred-watt bulb. If there was such a thing. "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about at breakfast? Nathan? I'm sure I could hire one of my old Chicago pals, put a contract out on his life."

"If it were only that easy."

"Ouch," said Bram. "You're really serious."

She adjusted the silk handkerchief in his suit pocket. "Yeah, but I've got another problem, too. Except, I'm afraid, when I tell you what it is, that you'll insist I do something I don't want to do."

"And that is?"

"Talk to the police."

He unbuttoned his suit coat and pulled the ottoman over between them. Together, they put their legs up and intertwined their arms.

"Spill," said Bram.

"Well, I talked to Anika last night."

"I know that. Get to the good part. I haven't got much time."

"She admitted that she wasn't with Andy all evening the night Ken Loy and Bob Fabian were murdered."

"You already knew that."

"But what I didn't know, what I was afraid of, was that she lied to the police to give Andy an alibi. If you recall, you said that if she did that, it might make her an accessory to murder."