Blood on the Street (A Smith and Wetzon Mystery, #4)

this. I’ve let Penny Ann down.”
    “Oh, Jerry, good heavens.” Rona rushed over and put her hand on his face, stroking it. “You’ve been absolutely wonderful to her, to all of us.” To Smith and Wetzon, she said, “He took a second mortgage on his house to pay her lawyer in the arbitration.”
    Barbie got up and went into the kitchen. The door whooshed back and forth. She returned with a glass of what looked like Coke.
    Jerry watched his wife uneasily out of the corner of his eye. “Shh, Rona—”
    “Don’t shush me, Jerry. He’s done everything for her since Wilson died, and now look how she repays him.” She poured herself more wine and sat down next to Wetzon on the sofa.
    “Aw, Rona, come on. You’ve all been my friends, not just my clients. And I know for certain she didn’t kill Brian.”
    “Really? How would you know that, Jerry?” Smith asked.
    “I know, trust me.” The sincerity in his voice was real. It was the phrase that niggled at Wetzon. “Trust me” was code for “fuck you” in brokerese. Okay, so what? Hadn’t she just told Smith not to tar everyone?
    “Penny Ann confessed because she thinks Tabby Ann did it. Did the diary come?” Rona’s mascara had left a dark ring under her eyes.
    “Yes, today.” Wetzon patted her briefcase. “I’ve only glanced through it.”
    “What diary?” Dr. Jerry asked. He was uncorking another bottle of wine. “Are you sure I can’t get you something, Wetzon?”
    “No, thank you.”
    “Tabby had a diary, Jerry. Didn’t Penny Ann tell you?”
    “No. But she’s had so much on her mind....” He frowned. He was having trouble getting the cork out. His thick, stubby fingers were working too hard. “So what did you think, Wetzon?”
    “I need more time. It’s written in pig latin.”
    Dr. Jerry laughed. “Children have wonderful imaginations.”
    “As do adults.” Barbie waggled her finger at her husband.
    “She’s sixteen,” Rona said.
    “Still a child.” The cork came out crumbled, but he smiled. “You’ll forgive a little cork?”
    “Of course,” Smith said, graciously, giving Wetzon a withering look that said, No class.
    “Tabby Ann couldn’t have killed Brian. I know her too well,” Dr. Jerry said. “The child’s like another daughter to me and Barbie, isn’t she, dear? She’s not capable of taking a life, even Brian’s.”
    “What do you mean, ‘even Brian’s?’” Rona said sharply. “Tabby told me that Brian had seduced her.”
    “Brian was my oldest, closest friend, Rona. You know that. If not for Brian, you and I would never have met, right?” He had a soothing voice. The dimples flashed.
    Rona nodded and did a slow melt, as if he’d embraced her, but then he had, with his voice. It was more paternal than sexual, like daughter and Big Daddy, though they were probably the same age.
    Barbie sipped her drink. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to nod off, then came awake and sat up as if she’d remembered something important. “Oh, gee.” She looked at her watch. “I’m late. I have to go.” She didn’t sound too unhappy about it. She picked up her leather jacket from the closet doorknob and fled without saying good-bye.
    They all stared at the door. Jerry shrugged. “The baby-sitter has to go home.” He shifted his attention back to Smith and Wetzon. “Now I’m going to tell these nice ladies what I know, and they’re going to help us get Penny Ann’s name cleared. Okay?”
    “Why don’t you tell us why Tabitha testified against her mother at the arbitration?” Wetzon suggested.
    Smith sat down in a club chair and watched the reactions.
    Rona gasped.
    “Oh, you know? Well, that’s what I mean. Brian used that poor child. He claimed that the choices of stock-index futures and strategies were Penny Ann’s, but of course, there was no real evidence except his word against hers until the child came forward.” He lowered himself into one of the fragile Louis bergieres. Wetzon held her breath, waiting for it to collapse, but it didn’t. “She worked for Brian over the summer, running errands, doing mailings to his clients.”
    “She was taking acting lessons,” Rona said.
    “She’s quite a little actress.” Dr. Jerry winked at Smith and Wetzon.
    “I’ll bet.” Smith crossed her legs, showing an expanse of attractive thigh.
    Dr. Jerry was enthralled by Smith’s thighs. “She’s been depressed since her father died. You know how adolescents are. She imagined everything,