Death Turns A Trick (Rebecca Schwartz #1) (A Rebecca Schwartz Mystery) (The Rebecca Schwartz Series)

night?”
    “The same reason you said; you knew he worked for George, and it was only a matter of time before you found out he was a cop. It applies even better, in fact. Murder’s a lot more serious charge than pimping.”
    “But how was I going to connect him with the murder?” She sighed in exasperation. “Same way I did. By using the little gray cells.
He
didn’t know you were too dumb to figure it out.”
    I was beginning to like the theory. It was at least as good as the one Martinez had about Parker. But I had to come clean. “Mickey, she had to get that money from somewhere.”
    “So she blackmailed somebody.”
    “There’s some suspicion she might have been blackmailing a couple of people.”
    “There you are, then. What’s the big deal?”
    I shouldn’t have had the third glass of wine after all. I lost control and let the tears come into my eyes. “Uncle Walter might have been one of them.”
    “Uncle Walter! Have you lost your mind?” In her agitation, she threw out an arm and knocked over her wine glass. I was momentarily so relieved I hadn’t set the table with the white tablecloth Aunt Ellen had left me that I forgot all about Uncle Walter.
    By the time I cleaned the wine up, I was composed again. “Mickey, listen. Uncle Walter knew her. Mom saw her at his office.”
    “But that can’t be!”
    “Would Mom lie?”
    That did it. Mickey had to accept the facts. “Not about that,” she said slowly. “But how could he have known her?”
    “How do you think?”
    “But Uncle Walter wouldn’t—wouldn’t go to a prostitute; he’s still suffering from Aunt Ellen’s death.”
    I nodded. “I know. That’s what I’m clinging to to make sense out of it. A person might try anything to get over his grief.”
    She looked skeptical.
    “It’s the best I can do,” I said.
    Mickey bit her little finger a moment before she spoke. “It wouldn’t work.”
    “No, but he might try it.”
    “Wait a minute. I’m a psychology student, remember? You wouldn’t try that to forget. You’d look for a nice widow.”
    “But—”
    “No, let me finish. Going to a prostitute might be a good way to avoid going on with your life, of wallowing in your grief. You could tell yourself you’re such a bad person no one would have you.”
    Mickey is not dumb.
    “Yeah,” I said. “That makes sense.” I was so sorry for Uncle Walter I was afraid I was going to cry again.
    “Have you asked Uncle Walter about it?”
    “Yes. He won’t talk about it.”
    “So you think Kandi figured out what kind of man he is—that he’d die of humiliation if anyone found out. And that he had enough money to pay what she wanted.”
    “Yes.”
    “But wait. Uncle Walter may be naive, but he’s not stupid. Why would anyone take a prostitute’s word against his?”
    “You know the watch Aunt Ellen gave him about ten years ago? He isn’t wearing it.”
    “Omigod. Kandi lifted it.”
    “Yes. And the police may have found it at her apartment.”
    “Oh dear. So they might fingerprint it. It’s obviously a man’s watch.”
    I nodded. “If they trace it to him, there’s nothing we can do about it, but what if they don’t? That’s almost worse.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I would then be withholding evidence that might help my client, who is also someone I’m dating, but which could incriminate my uncle.”
    “You aren’t withholding anything.”
    “Legally, no. But what about morally? If Parker had any other lawyer, he or she might have found out the same thing and would certainly—”
    “No other lawyer’s mom saw Kandi at Uncle Walter’s.”
    “Oh, Mickey, listen. It isn’t only that. Stacy—one of Elena’s partners—came to me with his name and the name of another man she suspected Kandi of blackmailing. And not only that—”
    “What?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. Uncle Walter was like a different person when I talked to him. I saw a side of him that I—that probably none of us has ever seen.”
    “What are you talking about; did he threaten you or something?”
    “No, nothing like that. It was just that his eyes—”
    She rolled her own eyes. “His eyes, for Christ’s sake!”
    “I’m not kidding, Mickey. You had to be there.”
    “Rebecca, you are actually entertaining the notion that your own uncle is a murderer?”
    I didn’t say anything.
    “You are!”
    “I just can’t get the whole thing out of my head; that’s all.”
    I poured myself another glass of wine, but I was so