River’s End

breath in, let it out slowly.
    David had arranged for guards, and the reporters were ordered not to come onto the property. But over that long, terrible day one slipped through now and then. She wanted to ignore the bell. To let it ring and ring and ring. But that would disturb Olivia, upset her parents.
    She marched toward the door intending to rip off the reporter’s skin, then through the etched-glass panels beside the wood she recognized the detectives who had come in the dark of the morning to tell her Julie was dead.
    “Mrs. Melbourne. I’m sorry to disturb you.”
    It was Frank Brady who spoke, and he whom Jamie focused on. “Detective Brady, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, may we come in?”
    “Of course.” She stepped back. Frank noted that she had enough control to keep behind the door, not to give the camera crews a shot at her. It had been her control he’d noted, and admired, the night before.
    She’d rushed out of the house, he recalled, even before they’d fully braked at the entrance. But the minute she’d seen the girl in his arms, she’d seemed to snap back, to steady. She’d taken charge of her niece, bundling her close, carrying her upstairs. He studied her again as she led them into the salon.
    He knew now that she and Julie MacBride had been twins, with Jamie the elder by seven minutes. Yet there wasn’t as much resemblance as he might have expected. Julie MacBride had owned a blazing beauty—despite delicate features and that golden coloring, it had flamed out and all but burned the onlooker. The sister had quieter looks, hair more brown than blond that was cut in a chin-length swing and worn sleek, eyes more chocolate than gold and lacking that sensuous heavy-lidded shape. She was about five-three, Frank calculated, probably about a hundred and ten pounds on slender bones where her sister had been a long-stemmed five-ten.
    He wondered if she’d been envious of her sister, of that perfection of looks and the excess of fame.
    “Can I get you anything? Coffee?”
    It was Tracy who answered, judging that she needed to do something normal before getting down to business. “I wouldn’t mind some coffee, Mrs. Melbourne. If it’s not too much trouble.”
    “No ... we seem to have pots going day and night. I’ll see to it. Please sit down.”
    “She’s holding up,” Tracy commented when he was alone with his partner.
    “She’s got a way to go.” Frank flicked open the curtains a slit to study the mob of press at the edge of the property. “This one’s going to be a zoo, a long-running one. It’s not every day America’s princess gets cut to ribbons inside her own castle.”
    “By the prince,” Tracy added. He tapped his pocket where he kept his cigarettes—then thought better of it. “We’ll get maybe one more shot at him before he pulls it together and calls for a lawyer.”
    “Then we’d better make it a bull’s-eye.” Frank let the curtain close and turned as Jamie came back into the room with a tray of coffee.
    He sat when she did. He didn’t smile. Her eyes told him she didn’t require or want pleasantries and masks. “We appreciate this, Mrs. Melbourne. We know this is a bad time for you.”
    “Right now it seems it’ll never be anything else.” She waited while Tracy added two heaping spoonsful of sugar to his mug. “You want to talk to me about Julie.”
    “Yes, ma’am. Were you aware that your sister placed a nine-one-one call due to a domestic disturbance three months ago?”
    “Yes.” Her hands were steady as she lifted her own mug. “Sam came home in an abusive state of mind. Physically abusive this time.”
    “This time?”
    “He’d been verbally, emotionally abusive before.” Her voice was brisk and clear. She refused to let it quaver. “Over the last year and a half that I know of.”
    “Is it your opinion Mr. Tanner has a problem with drugs?”
    “You know very well Sam has a habit.” Her eyes stayed level on Frank’s. “If you haven’t figured that out, you’re in the wrong business.”
    “Sorry, Mrs. Melbourne. Detective Brady and I are just trying to touch all the bases. We have to figure you’d know your sister’s husband, his routines. Maybe she talked to you about their personal problems.”
    “She did, of course. Julie and I were very close. We could talk about anything.” For a moment, Jamie looked away, struggling to keep it all steady. Voice, hands, eyes. “I think it started a couple of years ago, social