“Wherever you say. Where?”
“The aviary section at the zoo in the park. Can you be there in an hour?”
“I’ll be there.”
The park was virtually deserted. The icy December winds that swept through the city were keeping the usual crowds away. Dana stood in front of the aviary waiting for Joan Sinisi, shivering in the cold. Dana looked at her watch. She had been there for over an hour. I’ll give her another fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes later Dana told herself, Another half hour, and that’s it. Thirty minutes later she thought, Damn it! She’s changed her mind.
Dana returned to her office, chilled and wet. “Any calls?” she asked Olivia hopefully.
“Half a dozen. They’re on your desk.”
Dana looked at the list. Joan Sinisi’s name was not on it. Dana called Joan Sinisi’s number. She listened to the phone ring a dozen times before she hung up. Maybe she’ll change her mind again. Dana tried twice more, but there was no answer. She debated whether to go back to the apartment but decided against it. I’ll have to wait until she comes to me, Dana decided.
There was no further word from Joan Sinisi.
At six o’clock the following morning, Dana was watching the news while she got dressed. “…and the situation in Chechnya has worsened. A dozen more Russian bodies have been found, and in spite of the Russian government’s assurance that the rebels have been defeated, the fighting is still going on…In local news, a woman fell to her death from her thirtieth-floor penthouse apartment. The victim, Joan Sinisi, was a former secretary to Ambassador Taylor Winthrop. The police are investigating the accident.”
Dana stood there, paralyzed.
“Matt, remember the woman I told you I went to see—Joan Sinisi, Taylor Winthrop’s former secretary?”
“Yes. What about her?”
“She was on the news this morning. She’s dead.”
“What?”
“Yesterday morning she called and made an urgent appointment to meet me. She said she had something very important to tell me. I waited for her at the zoo for more than an hour. She never showed up.”
Matt was staring at her.
“When I talked to her on the phone, she said she thought she was being watched.”
Matt Baker sat there, scratching his chin. “Jesus. What the hell have we got here?”
“I don’t know. I want to talk to Joan Sinisi’s maid.”
“Dana…”
“Yes?”
“Be careful. Be very careful.”
When Dana walked into the lobby of the apartment building, there was a different doorman on duty.
“May I help you?”
“I’m Dana Evans. I came about Miss Sinisi’s death. It was a terrible tragedy.”
The doorman’s face grew sad. “Yes, it was. She was a lovely lady. Always quiet and kept to herself.”
“Did she have many visitors?” Dana asked casually.
“No, not really. She was very private.”
“Were you on duty yesterday when the”—Dana’s tongue tripped on the word—“accident happened?”
“No, ma’am.”
“So you don’t know whether anyone was with her?”
“No, ma’am.”
“But someone was on duty here?”
“Oh, yes. Dennis. The police questioned him. He was out on an errand when poor Miss Sinisi fell.”
“I’d like to talk to Greta, Miss Sinisi’s maid.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
“Impossible? Why?”
“She’s gone.”
“Where?”
“She said she was going home. She was terribly upset.”
“Where is her home?”
The doorman shook his head. “I have no idea.”
“Is anyone up in the apartment now?”
“No, ma’am.”
Dana thought fast. “My boss would like me to do a story for WTN on Miss Sinisi’s death. I wonder if I might see the apartment again? I was here a few days ago.”
He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t see any problem. I’ll have to go up with you.”
“That’s fine,” Dana said.
They rode up to the penthouse in silence. When they reached the thirtieth floor, the doorman took out a passkey and opened the door to apartment A.
Dana stepped inside. The apartment was exactly as Dana had last seen it. Except that Joan Sinisi is missing.
“Did you want to see anything in particular, Miss Evans?”
“No,” Dana lied. “I just wanted to refresh my memory.”
She walked down the hallway to the living room and moved toward the terrace.