Mad About You

take anything from Ms. McKray's bedroom?"
    "Absolutely not."
    "Did you leave Ms. Handelman alone in the apartment?"
    Denise shook her head, then stopped. "No, wait—I ran down to my car to get an art book I'd bought for her."
    "Did she have a bag with her?" James pressed. "One large enough to conceal garments, such as a coat and hat she might have taken from Kat’s apartment?"
    Her brow furrowed. "A black athletic bag—she said she'd just come from the gym and didn't want to risk having her racket stolen by leaving it in her car." Her scowl deepened. "But why would she have gone to so much trouble? Her family is richer than the Rockefellers—and the money her dad would have spent on the letter is a drop in the bucket to the Handelmans."
    Tenner scribbled furiously. "What time did she leave?"
    Denise sniffed, then squinted. "Around eight-thirty. I folded a load of towels after she left, then came back here."
    "Were you alone all night?" Tenner asked.
    "Yes," Denise said pointedly.
    James cleared his throat. "Ms. McKray mentioned that you requested a private tour of the gallery several weeks ago."
    Denise reddened. "Gloria talks about galleries and museums all the time—I just wanted to be able to converse with her, that's all." Her face crumpled with concern. "Are you going to drag her into all this?"
    "Sorry, ma'am," Tenner said, sounding not the least bit sorry. "She'll have to answer some questions, same as you."
    Kat felt Denise's hand on her arm. "Kat, I'm sorry I lied, but I honestly didn't think there was any connection to the break-in." She smiled, her eyes watery. "I'd hate to think that Gloria could have done such a thing, but I'd never knowingly withhold evidence that would take the heat off you."
    Her heart expanded with affection for her friend. "Don't worry, Denise, everything will be fine." Kat gave her friend a long, rocking hug, during which Denise whispered, "So, are you in love or what?"
    Kat pulled back and opened her mouth to protest, but for once, Denise's expression was void of teasing. She decided to be honest, especially since Denise had just bared her soul to an audience of virtual strangers. "I don't know," she murmured sincerely.
    A smile bloomed on Denise's face. "Toldja you needed a man," she said in hushed tones.

    *****

    Tenner scratched himself indiscreetly. "The more we stir this pile, the more it stinks."
    James stopped, a hamburger halfway to his mouth. The man had an uncanny sense of bad timing. He glanced sideways at Kat, who bit back a smile as she dipped a french fry in a mountain of catsup.
    "The case is certainly more complicated than we first believed," James agreed.
    "It's taking longer to get a search warrant for the Handelman woman's apartment." The detective rubbed his grubby thumb over his fingers in a gesture that said "money." "Looks like no one wants to step on their toes." He belched, excused himself, then added. "Another hour—maybe two."
    Wincing at his manners, James asked, "Have you checked out everyone at the gallery?"
    "Didn't see much use," Tenner said through a mouthful of chili nachos.
    Pushing aside his half-eaten burger, James snatched one of Kat's fries and, curious, dipped it in the catsup. "Anyone at the gallery could have taken Kat's key ring, duplicated her apartment key, and returned them without her knowing." He took a tentative bite of the french fry, then pursed his lips in concession to Kat's taste in fast food.
    "I've still got that list of employees that Guy Trent came up with," Tenner admitted.
    "What about Guy Trent himself?" James asked. "He's practically a black—" Kat dug her elbow sharply into his ribs, stealing his breath. He'd forgotten she'd gone to great lengths to keep her sordid work arrangement private.
    The detective wiped his mouth, missing badly. "What's that?"
    James straightened and frowned at Kat, but unable to match the intensity of her glare, relented. "Um, blackheart. He struck me as being an unlikable fellow."
    "Why would he sabotage his own place?" Tenner asked.
    "The break-in has resulted in a lot of publicity for the gallery," James pointed out. "I'll bet admission sales have increased."
    "Temporarily," Kat agreed. "But we expected droves of people for the showing of the letter, plus the gallery would have earned a commission from the auction—a few hundred curiosity seekers can't make up for the money lost."
    "What if the letter had turned out to be a fraud?" Tenner asked.
    "Then the auction would be