Page 36 of Witness 8

Having four wildly successful tennis camps had given Brett the excuse to travel, and he then embarked on a series of affairs. Now, Brett at forty-five had been unfaithful to all four of his previous wives. Out of the four of them, only three survived. Thelast one had died suspiciously. She’d drowned while swimming from Bale’s boat. Accidents at sea happen all the time, even to two-time national swimming champs like the late Mrs. Bale. Her family didn’t buy it and had used their wealth and influence to pressure the police to charge him, but nothing worked. Bale’s wealth was greater, and his lawyers were better.

None of this had stopped Maggs from getting involved with Brett. At least he was single, and some of the wives in the neighborhood were glad she had taken up with Brett as it might stop her flirting with their husbands. Maggs once told Ruby that she would like to be her for a day. To be unseen. For all her beauty, Maggs was insecure around women and men. She never thought she was good enough, pretty enough or smart enough. If only the neighbors had known that, they might actually mourn her. They were more concerned about the crime and the perpetrator than the poor victim.

Gossip was always hot on West 74thStreet.

‘As some of you may know,’ continued Petra, ‘our brave district attorney was due to give an address to our little soirée, this evening. However, due to circumstances beyond his control, he is no longer able to join us tonight. But he sends this message.’

She unfolded a note, perched her Gucci reading glasses on the end of her nose and read.

‘I want all the residents of West 74thStreet to know that we will get justice for Margaret. Jackson has betrayed our trust, and has brought murder to our community. I will personally see to it that he spends the rest of his life behind bars. For now, until we can rid our street of this devil, be watchful.’

She finished reading the note, folded it and held it in her hand.

‘Now, if our illustrious DA were here this evening, I would run this by him, but, as you know, I’m very attuned to the moodof this street. I’ve been here a long time, and I know everybody is scared and angry. Well, we’re not your average neighborhood. We can do things other people cannot . . .’

They had gathered to drink champagne, and eat canapés, and gossip, and plot, but none of the people in this room had the slightest remorse for poor Maggs. None of them mentioned her. Not one word of sympathy. Ruby bore Maggs no ill will, and she’d liked her company and her kindness, but Ruby was not built to grieve, as her grandmother had guessed – something wasn’t quite right. Yet, she was sorry she was dead. Of all the residents, Maggs’s kindness to Ruby made her stand out. And made Ruby hate them all so much more.

Petra continued, ‘I propose we do the following . . .’

Ruby didn’t listen to the rest of the speech, delivered in Petra’s Upper West Side drawl. She knew Petra could never resist the opportunity to increase her standing in the community. She had the chance now to give the residents exactly what they wanted. All Ruby had done was point her in the right direction. Ruby’s goal for the evening was complete. Now, she had other things on her mind: the two men in this room whom she’d gotten close to tonight. None of them paid her any attention.

Todd Ellis, the psychopath banker and matchstick man.

And Brett Bale, the tennis coach who may have murdered his wife.

Ruby had seen one of these men recently.

She’d watched him shoot Margaret Blakemore in the head, then skip down the porch steps and hide the gun in a garbage bag before casually walking back into this very house. And he had not noticed her that night. Just as he had not noticed her this evening. That was her great strength. Ruby thought herself foolish to have expected to be welcomed and treated as an equalthis evening, treated like a member of this community. She was not one of them any more. She was the help.

Silent. Invisible. But that was also her power. She was a poisonous spider, lurking in the dark corners of every home on the street.

Ruby intended to keep it that way. For now.

Later that night, as she helped the caterers tidy up, she made plans. Ruby needed serious money.

And now she was going to get it.

So many spider threads she had yet to lay out. Some she could now begin to gather.

One thing was for sure – Ruby’s game was just beginning.

And she had flies to catch.

13

Bloch

‘Must be a party,’ said Lake.

They stood outside Margaret Blakemore’s address on West 74thStreet. It was coming up on midnight, and down the street a group of people were filing out of a house, waving their goodbyes and making the short trip to their neighboring homes.

‘I don’t like parties,’ said Bloch.

‘One of their neighbors has been murdered. What kind of people throw a party at a time like this?’

‘Rich people,’ said Bloch.

An unmarked NYPD pool car pulled up beside the two investigators. A small, rotund cop with a belly that hung over his pants, got out of the passenger seat of the Ford and flashed his badge.