“How were things between Leslie and Ambrose after the incident?”

  “Ambrose acted his usual playful self, but it almost seemed forced. It had an edge to it. No one else would pick up on it. I only did because I witnessed part of the argument.”

  “How did Leslie act?”

  “She tried to be herself, but I noticed a coolness towards Ambrose. Again, they both tried to act like everything was the same as always. I don’t think anyone else noticed a thing.”

  “Do you think Ambrose pursued Leslie once they were back in the States?” Claire asked.

  Amy said, “Leslie told me she met with Ambrose once at a coffee shop to chat. When I asked how it went, all she said was that he was the same as always.”

  “Did she see him again after that?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t see what the point would be. Ambrose was married. He made a move on Leslie and she rebuffed him. It was clear what he wanted. Why bother to see him? Wouldn’t that only encourage him?”

  “Unless he apologized and wanted to be friends,” Claire suggested.

  “That wasn’t the impression I got from Ambrose.”

  “Did you see Professor Ambrose after Iraq?”

  “I saw him at a get-together a month or so after we returned from Iraq. I arrived late to the restaurant so I didn’t have a chance to talk to him. I also saw him briefly at Leslie’s memorial service. I had no interest in speaking with him. I was distraught over Leslie and didn’t feel like making small talk so I avoided him.”

  Claire and Amy sat in silence for a few moments.

  Claire asked softly, “Do you mind if I ask why you and Henry Prior broke up?”

  Amy’s eyebrow raised for a second. “We were both devastated by what happened to Leslie. We didn’t have much strength to give to each other ... we were impatient and needy and unable to help anyone but ourselves. It was a struggle to drag myself through my days. I never thought I’d feel normal again. I moved to another building. Jill moved in with her boyfriend.”

  “Did Henry move, too?”

  “Henry stayed in his apartment. Maybe all the new people who moved in were enough of a change for him so he stayed put.” Amy shrugged.

  “Did you initiate the breakup with Henry?”

  “I did. Henry didn’t seem to care.”

  “Really? You’d been together for a while, hadn’t you?”

  “A couple of years.” Amy sighed and looked out the window to the busy sidewalk outside the shop. “I thought Henry was so together, so smart. He knew about so many different fields, he was able to debate anyone on any subject. I began to see that his interest in debate wasn’t an indication of his intelligence needing an outlet. In Henry’s case, it was a need to dominate other people and to always, always be right.” The woman looked back at Claire. “I decided those weren’t very attractive characteristics.”

  Claire took a deep breath and asked, “Did Henry take drugs?”

  Amy blinked several times and stared at Claire. “No, never.”

  “Did you know anyone who was selling drugs to people in your building?”

  “Selling? No. Are you trying to figure out where Allen Day got his drugs?” Amy’s eyes went wide. “You don’t think Henry was selling, do you?”

  “No, I don’t think it was Henry.” Claire asked, “Was Henry friendly with Peter Safer, Jill, and Leslie?”

  “Yes, he was. Henry could be a lot fun … when he wasn’t in one of his belligerent moods,” Amy said.

  “Was Henry the type who would hold a grudge over something?”

  “I suppose sometimes, he did.”

  “Did Leslie ever rub Henry the wrong way?”

  Amy’s face hardened. “On the contrary. Henry had a thing for Leslie. He always tried a little too hard when she was around. I caught him more than once trying to flirt with her. That was another reason I broke up with him. I did not want to live my life with a man with a roving eye.”

  “Did Leslie encourage Henry’s flirtation?” Claire asked.

  “I’m sure Henry would have been happy to have had a little fling with Leslie, but she certainly had no interest in him.”

  “Could Henry have been so angry that Leslie wouldn’t play his game that he….”

  “Killed her?” Amy finished Claire’s sentence and then gave a sad shrug. “Only Henry … and Leslie … know the answer to that question.”

  22

  When Claire entered the hospital atrium and stepped out of the elevator, a man walked by and was about to pass Claire when he stopped and turned.

  “Claire?” Dr. Henry Prior adjusted his tortoise-shell eyeglasses.

  Claire smiled and walked over to Prior. “I was actually here looking for you. I left work a little while ago and decided on a whim to take a chance and see if you had a few minutes so I took a cab over.”

  “How can I help?” Prior asked.

  “I had a few things to talk to you about.” Claire looked around for somewhere they could sit.

  “Come to my office.” Prior gestured down the hall. “I can only spare a bit of time.”

  “I don’t think it will take long.”

  Claire followed Prior into his office and took the same seat as the last time she visited the doctor. “I wanted to chat briefly about the young man who lived in the apartment across from you, Allen Day.”

  One of Prior’s eyebrows raised. “Allen Day? I hardly knew him. I barely spoke to the poor man.”

  “He died from an overdose,” Claire said.

  “Yes. A tragedy.”

  “Do you know where Mr. Day got his drugs? Did you ever see anyone stop by Day’s apartment and stay only briefly?” Claire watched Prior’s face closely for a reaction wondering if he knew Peter Safer might have been selling drugs.

  “I didn’t notice anything. I barely saw the man. He was never around. I have no idea who was selling Day the drugs.” Prior picked up a pencil from his desk and rolled it between his fingers. “What does that have to do with Leslie?”

  “We’re trying to establish motive,” Claire said. “A young man died from an overdose a few doors down from Leslie’s apartment. It could very well have implications.”

  Prior sat straight. “Surely, you don’t think Leslie was a drug dealer?”

  Claire shook her head. “I don’t have any reason to think that, but if drugs were bought and sold in the building, Leslie may have witnessed something she shouldn’t have and it may have caused repercussions. You never saw anything going on in the building related to drugs?”

  “I did not.”

  “Did your friends on your floor do drugs?”

  “They did not.”

  “I have to ask and I apologize, but did you take drugs?” Claire asked.

  “Never. That wasn’t my thing. In those days, I preferred a few beers when I wanted to relax.”

  “Did you consider yourself friends with Peter Safer?”

  Prior’s shoulder twitched. “Friendly, I suppose is the way I’d describe it. We didn’t socialize outside of the building. We didn’t go to events together or anything like that. We had different social circles. We hung out in Amy’s apartment and when Peter and Leslie were around, they’d join us.”

  Claire gave a nod. “And what about Leslie? Did you consider her a friend?”

  “I’d say the same thing about Leslie as I did about Peter. We were friendly.”

  “Why do you think Amy broke off her relationship with you?” Claire asked.

  Prior’s cheeks seemed to tinge pink. “I was the one who initiated the breakup. We’d grown apart. We couldn’t connect anymore.”

  “Were you in a monogamous relationship with Amy?”

  Prior smirked. “It was a long time ago. I was young and foolish.”

  Claire kept her voice even being sure not to use an accusatory tone. “Did you ever try to start something with Leslie?”

  “Leslie was a beautiful girl. I wouldn’t have said no if she was interested.”

  “Was she interested?”

  “I never asked her.” Prior had a wide grin on his face that made Claire dislike him.

  “When you left Amy’s apartment to go home that night, was anyone hanging around in the hallway? Did you see anyone in the hall you were unfamiliar with?”

  “I don’t recall seeing anyone.”

  Claire removed an old photograph of Malden Ambrose from her bag. “Do you recognize this man?”

  Prior moved his glasses up his nose and leaned closer to the photo. “I don’t know him. Who is he?”

  “He was a professor on the dig that Leslie was on in Iraq. They became friends.”

  Prior’s eyes brightened. “Friends? Or … friendly?”

  “I don’t believe they had a relationship. It was strictly a friendly acquaintance,” Claire said. “Do you remember ever seeing the man with Leslie? Seeing him around the building?”

  “He looks like a thousand other guys. Nothing stands out. Who knows? I may have passed him on the street. I wouldn’t remember.”

  “You never met him then?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “Had you been in Leslie’s apartment?”

  “Sure. We socialized in all the apartments. Mostly, we would gather in Jill and Amy’s place because it was bigger.”

  “Who do you think killed Leslie?” Claire asked.

  Prior lifted his hands, palms to the ceiling. “I have no idea.”

  When Claire reached down to put the photo of Malden Ambrose back in her bag, she noticed something hanging on the wall that sent a shiver over her skin. A framed, small red, orange, and blue kilim rug about three feet by four feet hung on the wall. Her eyes bored into it for almost a half minute.

  “That wasn’t here the last time I visited you,” Claire said with her eyes still glued to the rug.

  “It was sent out to be cleaned.” Prior shifted nervously in his seat.

  Claire stood up and leaned forward to get a good look at the piece. “It’s a beautiful textile. The colors are wonderful.”

  “Thank you,” Prior said.

  Claire waited for Prior to give some information about the rug, but he said nothing. She faced the man. “Where did you get it?”

  “From a friend.”

  “It’s a striking piece,” Claire said. “What is the country of origin?”

  “I believe it came from the Middle East, I’m not sure which country.”

  “Have you had it for a long time?”

  “A few years,” Prior told her.

  Claire had a strong feeling that Prior was lying. “Didn’t Leslie have a textile like this?”

  “She did, yes.”

  Claire waited, but Prior said nothing more. “Was this Leslie’s piece?”

  Prior looked like he was about to dismiss the notion, but he stuck out his chin and said, “It was.”

  Claire returned to her seat with a pleasant smile. “How did you get hold of it?”

  “I asked a police officer if I might have it.”

  You asked for the rug on the day of the murder?” Claire asked.

  “Yes,” Prior said.

  “Wasn’t the textile one of the things that had been placed on top of Leslie’s body?”

  “I believe it was.”

  “And the police officer had no problem with you removing it from the crime scene?”

  “He said I could have it.” Prior’s voice held a tone of defiance.

  “Why did you want it?” Claire held the man’s eyes.

  “I thought it was a lovely piece,” Prior said in his defense. “I’d admired it for a while. Leslie was dead, she didn’t have any use for it and I thought it would be nice to remember her by.”

  “You didn’t think it best to leave it at the crime scene until everything was processed?” Claire asked.

  “I didn’t think of it, really. The officer said it was okay to take it so I did.”

  “What about her parents? Might they have wanted it?”

  “I don’t know. No one seemed to care.” Prior had a look on his face that said he had no idea why Claire was making a big deal over taking the textile. “I had it framed. I hung it on my apartment wall until I moved it here.”

  “Someone took an excavation hammer from Leslie’s bedroom,” Claire stated.

  “That was me,” Prior admitted.

  Claire couldn’t help the look of surprise that rushed over her face. “You took the hammer?”

  Prior nodded.

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t think anyone would want it.”

  “It might have been the murder weapon,” Claire said leaning forward in her chair. She couldn’t believe someone would be so naïve to take an object that might have killed the woman. “Did it have blood on it?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Where was it in the room?”

  “On the bookcase near the bed.”

  “There wasn’t any blood spatter that hit the bookcase?”

  “No, there wasn’t. I did nothing wrong.” Prior’s voice was getting louder. “I took the two objects with permission.”

  “I don’t understand why police would release two objects from a murder scene,” Claire said. “Especially before processing the scene.”

  “I can’t answer for the police.”

  “Where is the hammer now?”

  “The police retrieved it from me. I voluntarily gave it up.” Prior crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know what the fuss is over this.”

  “The fuss?” Claire asked. “The fuss is that you walked into a crime scene and removed two items that may have contained evidence. You’re a smart man, Dr. Prior. What possessed you to do that? Didn’t you think about the evidence?”

  “Honestly, no. The police knew what they were doing. I didn’t take the things without asking.”

  “I’m surprised the police didn’t consider you a suspect for removing evidence from the room.”

  “Perhaps they did.” Prior leaned an elbow on his desk with a satisfied smile. “But they couldn’t find any evidence against me.”

  Maybe because you took the available evidence from the room. Claire stood, looked at Leslie’s rug hanging on the wall, and glanced back at Prior with disgust. “Thank you for talking with me.”

  “Come back anytime,” Prior said. “Always happy to help.”

  Claire wanted to slap the man, but instead, she spoke through gritted teeth as she left the office, “I appreciate it.”

  23

  Doing research from his apartment, Marty was able to track down Malden Ambrose’s ex-wife, Sheila Mathers, and although the woman was initially reluctant to be interviewed, she finally relented under Marty’s genial prodding. He set up a time and date and forwarded the information to Claire.

  After they closed the chocolate shop for the day, Nicole and Claire hurried up the stairs of the Boston Public Library and made their way to the library’s café where they found Ms. Mathers at a table working at her laptop. When she noticed the two young women, she waved them over to the table.

  “I’m Sheila. Please sit.”

  After introductions and a bit of chit-chat, they turned attention to the cold case of Leslie Baker’s murder.

  Sheila, in her early sixties, was well-dressed in a skirt and blazer, and had short blond hair cut stylishly around her face framing high cheek bones and beautiful skin. “Your associate, Marty Wyatt, has a winning personality. He can also make quite a compelling argument about why I needed to meet with you.”

  Claire chuckled. “Marty can be very persuasive.”

  “You want to talk to me about Malden in connection to that young woman’s death,” Sheila stated.

  Nicole explained, “We’d like to ask some questions about your former husband and some of his professional contacts. He had been to Iraq on a dig with Leslie Baker.”

  “Yes, he went on the expedition as part of a three-university effort.” Sheila spoke matter-of-factly.

  “Did he talk about Leslie to you?”

  “He talked about many of the people on the dig. Malden enjoyed the group. He told me it was one of the best trips he’d been on.”

  “Did he seem especially fond of any of the people?” Claire asked.

  Sheila leveled her eyes at the young women. “Do you mean romantically?”

  “Was he romantically involved with someone on the dig?” Nicole asked with surprise.

  “Whenever Malden went on trips, he was either involved with someone who was there or he wanted to be involved with someone who was there.” Sheila’s lips pinched together. “Malden was a ladies man. In other words, a cheater, and not just any kind of cheater, but an Olympic gold medal winning cheater. World-class. A champ.”

  “And you knew about his behavior back then?”

  “I suspected,” Sheila said. “I was young, naïve. We were newly married when he went to Iraq. I thought Malden needed some time to settle down, settle into married life. I was sure he loved me, but he had this terrible need to follow his emotions. He couldn’t stop himself. We divorced about two years after we married. It was foolish of me to think he would change.”

  “Malden was involved with someone in Iraq?” Claire asked again.

  “My impression was that Malden tried to get cozy with Leslie Baker, but she wasn’t having any of it. Malden never took well to being rejected. It seemed to fuel his desire to get what he wanted. The man was sick. I wouldn’t put up with it.”

  “Did he tell you about his interest in Leslie?” Nicole was appalled to think Malden would discuss his escapades with his wife.

  “Not outright, but I was good at reading between the lines. I caught him calling her number when they returned to the States. I followed him once to Harvard Square and saw him meet Leslie at a coffee shop. I know it sounds awful to snoop on someone, but when you have suspicions, well, I had to see for myself.”

  “It doesn’t sound awful at all,” Claire reassured the woman that they understood.

 

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