Ultimate Concealer, A Toni Diamond Mystery: A Toni Diamond Mystery (Toni Diamond Mysteries) by Nancy Warren

was open. “Help you, ma’am?” the young cop asked, sounding official and unfriendly.
    “Why yes.” She smiled as though he were only one makeover away from hosting a Lady Bianca home party for all the cops in the precinct. “I write a blog on local crime. I was wondering if you could tell me what happened here.”
    “No comment.”
    She took a quick glance into the office. Crime scene techs were at work on fingerprinting. There was no sign of a fight and the way the body had fallen, based on the dark blood stain she could see on the rich navy carpet, she thought he must have stepped away from his desk. Heavy leather furniture included a leather couch large enough for a big man to nap on. The heaviness of the room was not helped by dark wooden paneling on the walls or the strong but stale smell of cigars.
    “He was a cigar smoker, I see,” she said, trying to think of anything she could say that might get this guy to lighten up and answer a few questions.
    “Cuban, and quite illegal, though you can’t arrest him now,” a rich, low female voice said from behind her.
    As she turned, the cop said, “Mrs. Forstman. I’m not sure—um, your husband’s body’s already gone.”
    Mrs. Forstman looked as though she’d been a showgirl who caught the eye of the boss. She was about Toni’s own age and wore a figure-hugging top that revealed a fortune’s worth of suntanned cleavage. Toni strongly suspected she bore no tan lines anywhere. Her trousers clung to round hips and long, long legs that ended in stilettos.
    Grant Forstman’s widow wore the opposite to funereal black. She was clad entirely in white from the short fur jacket to the shoes. She also sported diamonds, big, shiny real diamonds that hung from her ears and glittered between her breasts and sparkled on her fingers. Her hair was a rich brown with caramel and cranberry highlights.
    “Yes, I know,” she answered the police officer. “It was just that . . . I didn’t know what to do with myself.”
    “Mrs. Forstman,” Toni said, “I am so sorry for your loss.”
    “Thank you. And you are?”
    Extremely conscious that she’d told the cop a lie and didn’t want to repeat it for Grant Forstman’s widow, she said, “Is there somewhere we could talk?”
    The woman gave her a quick once over and whatever she saw caused her to nod. “Of course.” She stepped forward, farther than Toni’d been allowed to, and scanned the room. To the officer she said, “I have my cell phone with me, of course, if there are any other questions.”
    She turned and strode down the hall, her hips swaying and that mane of hair dancing to the same beat as Toni followed.
    She led them to an elevator. “God, I need a drink. Will you join me?”
    “Of course.”
    “There’s something about finding out my husband was murdered that makes me crave a martini.” She spread her hands as though she was about to share a secret. “So much more fun than a Valium.”
    When the elevator doors opened, she led the way once more. “We’ll go to the bar we keep for the whales.” At Toni’s raised eyebrows, she said, “The high rollers. Not that there will be many at this time of the day. We should have the place to ourselves.”
    They walked through a hushed area where a small group of men and women played cards and sat at blackjack tables. She felt an air of seriousness all around her. A large security guy nodded at Mrs. Forstman. She nodded back and led the way past the high rollers. At the back of the room was a bar discreetly tucked away in an alcove.
    The walls glowed a deep green, glass panes lit somehow from behind. One entire wall was an aquarium full of exotic fish that emphasized the impression of being underwater.
    Loretta sat them at a small table in the corner, and the single bartender who’d been lounging behind the bar when they walked in sprang to attention. He sped over to the corner table. “Mrs. Forstman. Please accept my condolences. How can I help