Here Comes the Body. Maria DiRico
them at a fiftieth anniversary party, was Mia’s dark thought. She appraised the agent’s wardrobe of von Furstenberg wrap dress, Louboutin heels, and Dior purse, and pegged them all as fakes. She’d learned to separate the real from the fraudulent at Korri Designs—as well as in the basement of her family home, where her brother once ran a thriving business selling designer knockoffs imported from China.
Mia took a break from the anniversary celebration to watch the Koller brothers arrive in a limo from Manhattan for the bachelor party. John Grazio worked in the security department of Koller Properties, one of the city’s most well-known real estate development companies. Bradley and Kevin Koller, WASP-y looking and in their mid-thirties, had inherited the company after their father died of a heart attack on one of his many golf courses. Mia considered personally welcoming the famous duo to Belle View, but she was put off by the air of arrogance emanating from the brothers. Their host, John, practically tumbled down the staircase in his rush to greet and fawn over them. “Guys, thank you for coming. I can’t tell you what it means to me. I’m honored. Deeply, deeply honored.”
“Glad to be here,” Bradley said, his tone patronizing. Kevin merely gave a slight nod. Mia wondered why the brothers even bothered to grace the outer borough and John’s party with their presence.
“The action’s upstairs,” John said. “It’s a good time. Except the drinks could be stronger, but we’re working on that.” He directed the last comment at Mia. She responded to his angry glare with a look of innocence. “You got the best seats in the house. You’re at the Playmate of the Year table. You gotta see the napkins. They’re a work of dirty art.”
John gestured for the brothers to follow him up the stairs, and Kevin started after him. “Uh, hello,” Bradley snarked. Kevin stopped where he was and let his older brother precede him up the stairs. A slideshow of expressions crossed the younger brother’s face: fury, resentment, embarrassment, and finally, a look of vulnerability. To Mia’s surprise, she found herself feeling sorry for Kevin Koller.
She shook off the moment and returned to the vow renewal reception, passing Felicity Stewart Forbes, who was handing out business cards to a nonplussed knot of senior citizen guests. “Like the saying goes, the future is now,” she fluted. “Especially when you reach a certain age, if you know what I mean.”
“We know what you mean. We’re old.” A man holding tight to the walker in front of him responded with asperity to Forbes, earning a chuckle from Mia.
She found the anniversary couple posing for photos in the outdoor gazebo where they’d renewed their vows. Flushing Bay lay in the distance, as did LaGuardia Airport’s air traffic control tower. Mia was helping their photographer find a camera angle that blocked out the tower when she heard a loud whoop coming from the Bay Ballroom upstairs. They must have wheeled in the pop-out cake, she thought. The photographer finished taking pictures of the anniversary couple and Mia was herding everyone back to the Marina Ballroom when her headset buzzed. It was Cody.
“We have a situation, ma’am.”
The tone of his voice alarmed her. “What’s going on? And feel free to call me Mia.”
“No one jumped out of the cake.”
“Did you look inside to make sure someone was in there?”
“Affirmative. I had one of the waiters double-check before we wheeled the cake out. Something must be wrong with the lady inside it.”
“I’m on my way.”
She hurried out of the Marina Ballroom into the foyer and was about to start up the stairs when an attractive woman in a trench coat burst through the Belle View front doors. “Sorry I’m late,” she gasped, out of breath. “They switched the N and R trains and I wound up in Forest Hills.”
Mia stared at her. “Who are you?”
The woman opened her coat, revealing a sequined bikini. “Park Lexington. I’m working the bachelor party.”
“You’re the stripper? Then who’s in the—”
Mia’s stomach clenched. She raced up the stairs and burst into the Bay Ballroom. John’s guests whooped and cat-called. “Yeah, baby, finally!” one yelled.
“I’m not the stripper!” Mia yelled back.
Cody helped her climb to the top of the cake. She threw open the lid and peered inside. A woman lay crumpled on the bottom. It was Angie, the call girl who’d paid Ravello Carina a visit only days before. Mia prayed she was unconscious, but the blood pooling under the knife sticking out of the woman’s chest told a different story.
She’d been murdered.
Chapter Four
For a moment, Mia stood frozen. Then she regrouped. “Push this thing into the back hallway, then call the police and report a suspicious death,” she whispered to Cody. His eyes widened but he gave a slight nod. He reflexively lifted a hand to salute the order but caught himself halfway.
As Cody wheeled off the pop-out cake, Mia faced the disgruntled party guests. She got right to it. “I have bad news; no one’s jumping out of a cake.” The chorus of boos was almost deafening. “But,” she yelled, waving her hands in the air to get their attention again, “I also have good news. We’re making the drinks way stronger.” This was met with cheers and a rush to the room’s two bars.
As Mia headed for the door, John grabbed her arm. “Hey, what the hell is going on? Where’s my entertainment? And how much are these stronger drinks gonna cost me?”
Mia detached her arm from John’s hand. “There’s been an incident but it’s under control. A reminder that you requested stronger drinks. But not to worry, we’ll cover any extra charge you incur.”
She bolted out the door, pretending not to hear John as he yelled after her, “What about my stripper?”
Mia ran down the stairs. She stepped outside as the police screeched up to the front of Belle View. Luckily, the cacophony of beats from DJ DJ coupled with the 1960s pop music from the anniversary party drowned out the sirens of the half-dozen cop cars. Mia glanced out a window at the boats bobbing peacefully in the marina. She resisted an urge to hop into one, hotwire it—a skill Posi had taught her when she was ten—and take off out of Flushing Bay. Instead she steeled herself for what she knew was coming.
Detective Pete Dianopolis, Cammie’s ex-husband, stepped out of an unmarked car that pulled up behind the black and whites. “Hey, Mia. Not exactly a great welcome home, huh?”
“My dad had nothing to do with this,” she blurted. “He’s not even here.”
Dianopolis gave her a skeptical look. He banged on the unmarked car, eliciting a surprised yelp from whoever was still inside. “Wake up, Hinkle, let’s go.”
“Coming.”
“My new partner,” Dianopolis said to Mia. “He and his wife had a baby two weeks ago.”
Hinkle emerged from the car. He was a younger, slightly leaner version of Dianopolis, who was in his mid-fifties and sported a paunch that looked like he’d swallowed a bowling ball. Hinkle yawned and rubbed his eyes as if he’d woken up from a nap, which Mia assumed he had. “We’re here already?”
“Yeah, we’re here,” Dianopolis said, annoyed. “This ain’t a road trip; the station’s two minutes away. Take the boys and secure the area.” He turned back to Mia. “So, what’ve we got?”
“Upstairs is a bachelor party. When the stripper didn’t jump out of the cake, I looked inside and discovered she was deceased, possibly by unnatural circumstances,” Mia said, trying to sound as businesslike as possible. She didn’t mention she recognized the woman as an unwelcome visitor to Belle View, having learned at an early age that when talking to law enforcement, less was definitely more. “Downstairs is a fiftieth anniversary party. I’m running both events with my staff.”
“Then