The color drained from Lillian's face. Her mouth opened. but no sound came out. Finally, after a few uncomfortable moments, she managed to speak in a thin, strained voice. "Please sit down, Dana."

  I gave Dana an encouraging nudge, sensing that Lillian might be open with her if the moment felt less confrontational. Dana took the hint and grudgingly sat.

  Lillian took a moment to consider her words. "I suppose there's no graceful way to say this," she began finally. "We…we never meant for anyone to know."

  "Clearly." Dana gave her a steely-eyed glare.

  "Believe me, it's not something I'm particularly proud of. But before you judge me, which I fear you already have, the situation was not what you think."

  "How was it?" Dana asked acidly.

  "I'll be blunt," she said. "Their marriage was on the rocks and had been for some time. I know every marriage has its issues, but theirs was…well, theirs was over long before I came onto the scene."

  "Ricky remembers his parents being happy," Dana said.

  "Dana, he was such a young boy," Lillian said gently. "Too young to know, really. Robert protected him from what was going on with his mother."

  Dana shook her head. "You got in between them."

  "It wasn't like that." Lillian's voice rose. She paused to regain her composure. "It wasn't like that," she repeated in a softer tone. "Honey, I didn't want to be the other woman. I hated it, in fact. I never thought I'd find myself in that position. But I loved Robert, and I wanted to stand by him through a hard time in his life. And yes, I was happy to step into the role of wife and mother, once Beth was gone. And only then."

  "And you hid it from Ricky all this time?" Dana pressed.

  Lillian spread her hands, palms up. "What was I supposed to do? What good would it have done to tell him? We didn't want to tarnish his memory of his mother."

  Moira DeVine had done enough of that, I thought.

  "I don't believe you," Dana said. "Ricky trusts his memories of his mother, and so do I. She was happily married. They were happily married."

  "Dana." Lillian leaned forward on her forearms. "You weren't there. Please believe me, I know Robert always put Beth on a pedestal after her death, but that was for his son's benefit. It's not how he felt in real life."

  "And how did he feel?" I hated to ask, especially with doubts about Ricci Brothers Construction gnawing at the back of my mind.

  Lillian hesitated. "Despite what you may think, Beth was no angel." She glanced at me and away. "She…well, frankly, she was a thief."

  "No." Dana shook her head. "You're lying."

  "It's true! She stole money from Robert. She was a thief and a liar and a—" Lillian seemed to realize her voice had been rising again and suddenly stopped herself. "Well, let's just say she was no angel," she finished in a lower tone.

  "What do you mean, she stole money from Robert?" I asked.

  Lillian licked her lips. "Just before she died, she had drained their joint bank account. Fifty thousand dollars. Almost their entire life savings."

  I tried to hide my surprise.

  Dana was still shaking her head. "Why would she do that?"

  "I haven't the foggiest," Lillian admitted. "The money disappeared. Then Beth died, and the answer to that question died with her." She hesitated. "But I always suspected it had something to do with her brother, Bart."

  "You think she'd give her life savings to him?" I asked.

  "I don't know. I didn't know him then. But I knew he was a bone of contention between Robert and Beth, and he was usually the reason why she took money out of the bank."

  "Did Robert ever confront her? Ask her where their money was?"

  She shook her head. "He never got the chance." She glanced at her wristwatch. "I hate to cut this short, but I can't leave Samantha on her own behind the counter." She paused. "Does Ricky know about this?"

  Dana seemed subdued. "Not yet."

  "Please," Lillian pleaded.

  But Dana cut her off. "I can't keep this from him."

  Lillian's top teeth sank into her bottom lip, and she nodded slowly. "Then at least let me be the one to tell him."

  Dana nodded reluctantly.

  "And tell me we're okay?" Lillian asked, the pleading back in her voice again.

  "I don't know." Dana looked down at her feet. "Moira DeVine complicated everything."

  There was no mistaking the shadow that crossed Lillian's features at the mention of the psychic's name. "I agree with you there," she said. "Look, why don't you and Ricky come to dinner this weekend? Maybe he could have a talk with Robert, straighten some things out."

  "I'll let you know." Dana hesitated before adding, "Thanks."

  Lillian's expression softened. "Of course."

  She returned to her counter, and we headed for the exit.

  "You okay?" I asked.

  Dana nodded. "Yeah. Just…suddenly nothing feels as it seems, you know?"

  "I do. Everyone seems to be hiding something."

  "You know," Dana said, pushing through the glass doors that separated the cool AC from the warm smog outside. "Uncle Bart told us he saw his sister before she died and she gave him money. You think maybe that's why Beth drained the account?"

  "But Bart said she gave him five thousand, not fifty thousand."

  "Bart's not the most trustworthy guy in the universe," she pointed out. "He could have lied to us."

  "You think maybe he somehow conned her out of everything she had?"

  "Or threatened her if she didn't hand it all over."

  "If she did give it all to him, then who killed Beth? I mean, if Bart had the money, why would he hurt her?"

  Dana pursed her lips, contemplating that. "Okay, well how about this: what if Beth took the money out of the account but then had a change of heart. Decided it was too much to give her brother. What if she gave Bart five thousand, but he wanted it all. And he killed her for it."

  "It's possible." I hesitated. "But I hate to point out that someone else also had a great motive to want Beth out of the picture."

  "Lillian." Dana looked as if it pained her to say the one word.

  "I'm sorry, hon."

  Dana nodded. "I know. But you're right. She was having an affair with Robert. And she was quick to point a finger at Uncle Bart."

  We sat on that thought for a moment before she sighed. "This is awful, Mads. I wish we'd never met the Hollywood Psychic. I hate thinking of Lillian as a suspect. In two murders," she added.

  We got back into the car. "You think she could have poisoned DeVine too?"

  "Lillian knew Ricky was going to see Moira DeVine," Dana went on. "He told her and his dad all about the taping."

  "And she knew Beth was the subject?"

  Dana nodded. "Maybe she was worried about what DeVine would tell Ricky. Worried that maybe DeVine even had somehow found out the truth about her relationship with Robert? Maybe even that she had something to do with Beth's death?"

  "Did she try to talk Ricky out of having the reading at all?"

  Dana shook her head. "But she didn't encourage it, either."

  "How would she know what DeVine was going to say?" I asked. "None of us did. Even Chico seemed shocked."

  She bit her lip, thinking. "I don't know. But she could have seen DeVine on TV and realized she must get her information from somewhere."

  I had to ask. "Do you really think Lillian's capable of murder, Dana?"

  "I don't know what to think of anyone anymore," she admitted.

  I agreed with her there. But then I had the luxury of being an arm's length away from the situation, where Dana was confronting a potential rift within her own family.

  "You know what, maybe you should talk to—" My phone interrupted that thought. I fished it out of my bag and saw Ramirez's face on my screen.

  "Hey," I answered it.

  "Hey. You busy?"

  "I was just with Dana," I told him, sending a glance her way.

  "Oh?" he asked, not without a note of suspicion.

  "At the mall," I told him. Which was totally truthful. Even if it did let him come to his own conclusions about the purpose of the trip.

  "Ah," he said, sounding placated. "Well, I only have a minute, but I wanted to let you know I talked to a guy I know in Major Crimes."

  "About the Ricci Brothers?"

  Dana perked up in the driver's seat.

  "Yeah."

  "And?"

  "And you'd need a week to read through the file," he said. "Looks like they're no strangers to law enforcement."

  My stomach dropped. "So they are in the mob?"

  "Well, I wouldn't go that far," he hedged. "Their business practices have been called into question as far back as the 90s. But they've been Teflon. No convictions. Nothing's ever stuck."

  "What kind of charges are we talking about?" I asked, watching Dana's eyes widen.

  OMG she mouthed to me.

  "White collar mostly. Financial misappropriations. Suspicion of bribery, paying off union heads. A little hint of money laundering."

  "If we're talking the 90s, it seems those types of things would be easier to prove," I said. "After all, this happened before the cryptocurrency age. No one ever came forward? No paper trails?"

  "I asked the same thing. My guy said paper trails all hit dead ends eventually," Ramirez told me. "And as for witnesses, only a couple have come forward over the years."

  "But?"

  "But they've all either had a sudden change of heart or disappeared before they could testify."

  Well, that didn't make me very eager to pursue the Ricci angle. At the same time, it made the Ricci angle worth pursuing.

  What? Dana mouthed.

  I took a breath, hating that I had to ask. "Did you notice if Robert Montgomery's name came up in the file?"

  "Thankfully, no," Ramirez said. "My guy said he'd never heard the name."

  Dana tugged at my sleeve, hungry for the answer. When I shook my head, relief smoothed her features.

  "I've gotta run, babe," Ramirez said. "I just wanted to let you know what we found."

  "Thanks."

  "And let you know if there's any connection, I'll look into it." The implied suggestion being that I not.

  But I glossed over that, instead saying a quick I love you before disconnecting.

  "There was no mention of my father-in-law?" Dana asked, as if she wanted to be sure.

  "That's what he told me." I relayed the information about the Ricci Brothers. "He said Major Crimes had never heard of Robert."

  Dana looked less relieved than I'd hoped. "Uncle Bart was telling the truth."

  "About the Riccis being shady characters. But what reason would they have to hurt Beth?"

  "Maybe Beth knew something about them," Dana fished. "You did say witnesses mysteriously disappeared."

  "But what would she witness?"

  "I don't know," she admitted. "But from what you described, don't they seem much more likely than Lillian to commit murder?"

  I had to agree with her there. The Riccis seemed like career criminals with very good defense lawyers, apparently. And an efficient means of witness intimidation, including disappearing potential troublemakers. Until now, I'd thought the mob dumping bodies wearing concrete shoes in the water or entombing them within the towers of a newly constructed bridge were the things of Joe Pesci movies. But apparently life and art were locked in a dance of imitation, and it wasn't all fiction. The thought made a chill shiver up my spine.

  "I know you hate the idea of Lillian being involved," I began, "but the Riccis are no one to mess with. They sound really dangerous."

  "I don't want to mess with them," she said. "I just want to know if Robert was really working with them. And if they knew Beth. I think we should pay them a visit."

  I stared at her. "Are you serious?"

  "Just a visit to their offices. I'm sure there are lots of people around all the time. It can't be dangerous when there are lots of people, right?"

  "Wrong," I argued. "It could be very dangerous, Dana. What if all those people are named Ricci?"

  She chuckled. "That's not going to happen. You said yourself how legit the website looked."

  "Now you agree with me?"

  "There must be dozens of receptionists and assistants. Not to mention all the licenses and inspections people that are part of construction projects. And architects. They meet with architects all the time, right? When's the last time you heard of an accused murderer being an architect?"

  I lifted an eyebrow.

  "Don't look at me like that," she said. "Robert's not accused."

  Yet. I didn't like where this was headed. If our aim was to put Ricky's mind at ease, we were doing a really lousy job of it.

  "They're not going to take accusations lightly," I warned her.

  "Who's going to accuse them?" she asked. "We can be much more subtle than that."

  That wasn't my experience. I thought we were about as subtle as Yosemite Sam.

  "If you don't want to come with me," she added, "I'll go alone."

  "You know I won't let you do that. No one would forgive me if something happened to you. Including me."

  She grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."

  I took a breath. "No accusations. Not even a hint."

  "Agreed. It'll be purely a meet-and-greet. A smile and a handshake."

  Put that way, it sounded like a cocktail party.

  Here's hoping the Riccis saw it that way too.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Walking into the offices of Ricci Brothers Construction, I knew what heaven must be like, if the angels wore tailored Brioni suits and sported $300 haircuts. The company's executive offices occupied the entire top floor of a downtown skyscraper, a glass and steel monolith with floor-to-ceiling windows and stunning views of the city inhabited by lesser mortals far below.

  The sophisticated ambiance was tainted by the two dark haired men in black suits and mirrored aviator sunglasses standing post at opposite sides of the elevator bank. Unless they were on their way to an audition for the next Men in Black movie, they were muscle masquerading as security. The men eyed us with deep suspicion when we stepped off the elevator, or so I assumed, since I couldn't actually see their eyes. Their heads didn't even move. But they had an unmistakable air of menace beneath their tailored Dior Sauvage surface.

  A large marble topped reception desk sat just beyond the elevators, manned by an extremely slim woman in her mid to late thirties who had gone heavy on the eye makeup that day.

  "Can I help you?" she asked in a nasal tone that implied helping us was the last thing she wanted to do.

  "We'd like to see Mr. Ricci," I said politely.

  "Which one?" the receptionist asked.

  I bit my lip. "The older one?" I said, realizing I had no idea how many Ricci Brothers we were talking about. There could be two or a half dozen.

  Her gaze dropped and lifted slowly, appraising my outfit, which fortunately bore no traces of Max and Livvie's breakfasts. I thought she should stand to get the whole view. My spiky heels were killer.

  "Do you have an appointment?" she asked.

  Dana spoke up. "Yes, we do. One o'clock. Dana Dashel and Maddie Springer, of Mr. Vitale's offices."

  I gave my actress friend a raised eyebrow. Vitale's offices?

  The receptionist tapped on her keyboard with hot pink nails, looked at the monitor, tapped a few more keys, and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't see you on the calendar. I'm afraid I can't possibly—"

  "Oh, no." Dana widened her eyes in mock dismay. "Please don't tell me my assistant screwed up again. She's always doing things like this. Last week she made lunch reservations for me at La Bella, but she sent the client to The Grey Pony. I can't tell you how embarrassing it was."

  "I'm sure," the receptionist said blandly.

  Dana slipped me an oblique glance that I read as an invitation to jump in.

  "We're supposed to meet with Mr. Ricci about the…Athena Tower project," I said.

  Dana nodded. "It's going out for bid for a GC in three weeks, but truthfully, we wanted to give Ricci the inside track."

  "Athena Tower?" the receptionist repeated. "I haven't heard anything about it."

  "You will," I told her. "It's tied up in permitting at the moment. You know about all the red tape and hurdles in this industry. It's a wonder anything ever gets built."

  She shook her head. "Isn't that the truth. What kind of project is it?"

  Just our luck, a detail-oriented nosybody.

  "Mixed use," Dana said smoothly. "Retail space on the first five floors, residential the other sixty."

  "We're projecting 85% occupancy by groundbreaking," I added.

  Her eyes widened. "Really? That's incredible."

  Was it? I had no idea. "It's going to be top flight all the way," I went on, getting into the role. "We've reached out to an Italian designer for the penthouse. I've seen the preliminary proposal, and let me tell you, if I had a few million in the bank, I'd be tempted."

  "It sounds lovely," the receptionist agreed. "Just the type of thing we could help you with."

  "We'd love to have you on the team," Dana said. "But time is of the essence, since the RFP is going out soon. We really do need to speak to the decision makers."

  She sat up straighter. "Oh, I can see if Mr. Tremboli is available. He's authorized to speak for the company."

  "The other decision makers," I said quickly. "The Riccis. We really need to speak directly with them. Mr. Vitale was very specific about that." Was that the name Dana had used? I'd been so busy fabricating the Athena Tower, it had almost slipped my mind.

  Dana nodded her agreement. "We don't want to disrupt their schedule, but isn't there some way you can squeeze us in? We don't need a lot of time."

  "Athena Tower," the receptionist repeated, her interest piqued. Clearly she knew a money-maker when she heard one. And it was possible that somewhere there might be an Athena Tower going up. But it wasn't in or around Los Angeles.

  Dana nodded. "All the latest technology and views to die for. Not that yours are bad."

  The receptionist smiled. "Let me see what I can do."