Leona sipped. “Mmm, yummy. How does the kitchen look, dear?”

“I need to do the oven.”

“Excellent idea.”

The maid danced off.

Milo said, “Is anyone else in your family aware of Mr. Suss’s relationship with Tara?”

“Absolutely not, why would they be?”

“Seeing as you were open—”

“That was a specific openness, between Mark and me. Why in the world would I draw my boys into something so silly?”

She put her drink down. Glass thudded on silver. “Why are you bringing up my family?”

“Just trying to be thorough, Mrs. Suss.”

“It doesn’t sound thorough to me, it sounds intrusive.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am—”

Leona Suss stared at him. Turned her head toward a garden-view window and offered her profile. The light did wonders for her skin. George Hurrell would’ve approved. “Forgive me. It’s not every day the police spy on my house.”

“Sorry to bother you.”

“You haven’t, as a matter of fact you’ve been somewhat … I suppose the word would be therapeutic. Talking about it, I mean. Up till now, I’ve never really had the chance. So who do you think killed her?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out, ma’am.”

“Well,” she said, “if I was the detective, I’d look into her past life because someone like that would have to have all sorts of unsavory characters in her past.”

“Someone like—”

“Who’d sell herself.”

Milo showed her Steven Muhrmann’s photo.

Blank look. “Rather thuggish. Is he someone from her past?”

“Possibly.”

“Possibly,” she said. “Meaning mind my own business, you need to keep everything close to the vest. Fine, then. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, ma’am, thanks for your time.”

“My pleasure. I’ll see you fellas out.”

Crossing the marble rotunda took us past a demilune table bearing a single photo.

Larger than the others but the same subject, again in crisp, predigital black-and-white. Leona Suss had abandoned cowgirl duds for a white dress and matching kerchief that encircled her head and showcased beautiful bone structure.

Unsmiling pose. Not sad, something else in the eyes. Tentative—waiting?

She and Milo were nearly at the door when I said, “This is a particularly good one, Mrs. Suss.”

She turned. “That dreary thing? I should get rid of it but it was Mark’s favorite and anytime I contemplate tossing it I feel so disloyal.” Sniffing. “His clothes are still in his closet. Sometimes I go in there and feast on his smell.”

She flung the door open. “I’m sure you fellas can take it from here.”

Chapter 22

ilo paused to study the Suss mansion before slipping into the Seville. “The style to which she’s become accustomed. Would you ever get used to living like that?”

I said, “The option’s never come up.”

“Six grand at Chanel—you buy Leona’s whole blasé bit?”