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  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  This book is dedicated to my grandmother, Sarah Weber, who will be one hundred years old in June 2013. I love you, Nana.

  Acknowledgments

  First off, I’d like to thank all the people at Grand Central Publishing for the warm welcome, especially my new editor, Latoya Smith, and the director of publicity, Linda Duggins. Moving in any capacity is difficult, but you’ve made the transition very pleasurable.

  Next, let me thank the woman who orchestrated the deal, my good friend, second mom, and agent, Marie Brown. We’ve worked together for almost fourteen years, and I hope you know that I not only value your opinion, but most importantly, your character. I love you, Marie. Thanks for being there when times were tough and others weren’t around.

  I’d like to thank Martha Weber and Joylynn Ross for all your help in getting The Man in 3B finished. This may have been the toughest project I’ve attempted. Without your late-night hours reading and editing, I might not have ever finished.

  Oh, and let’s not forget you, the reader. Without you, I’d be nothing, so thanks. See you in a few months for The Family Business 2. Enjoy.

  Prologue

  September in New York City

  It was one of those muggy Indian summer nights, where Detective Sergeant Dan Thomas of the 113th Precinct in Queens sat at his desk thinking about his latest case. He was now in his third hour of overtime, and it didn’t look like he was going home anytime soon to splash around in his new pool with wife number two as he’d promised. He’d just left a horrific crime scene, where a local man had been found dead in his apartment, burned beyond recognition. Both his partner and lieutenant had already come to the conclusion that this was probably some unfortunate accident, or perhaps even a suicide, but Dan’s gut told him different. It told him this was a homicide, and in all his years on the job, his instincts had never led him astray. So instead of heeding the advice of his lieutenant and letting the case go until morning, Detective Thomas sent his partner to the fire marshal’s office to see if she could find out the exact cause of the fire. He also had a couple of uniformed officers bring in some of the dead man’s neighbors for routine questioning. Maybe one of them would be able to shed light on the situation. Thus far, they’d only turned out to be concerned citizens, singing “Kumbaya” and praising the deceased as if he were the next messiah, but Detective Thomas wasn’t convinced.

  Nobody’s this well loved, he thought.

  “Dan,” his partner, Detective Keisha Anderson, called as she entered the squad room waving a folder. She was panting, as if she’d literally run the entire way from the fire marshal’s office. “I gotta give it to you, partner. Your instincts were right on as usual. Fire marshal said it was definitely not an accident. They can’t tell exactly what started it right now, but someone used an accelerant to start the fire so they could contain it to one room.”

  Thomas nodded his approval. “Nice work, Anderson. Those idiots over at the fire marshal’s office usually take two weeks to get us anything relevant. What’d you do, promise to sleep with one of them?” Thomas laughed.

  “Nope, promised you would,” his partner replied with a laugh of her own. “Big, burly guy named Sullivan. He said he likes to be on top, so you’re catching tonight, not pitching.” Thomas gave her the finger, and she shot back, “Hey, just thought you might wanna be prepared.”

  Anderson handed Thomas the file, then sat on the arm of a nearby chair as she waited for him to read it. When he finished, Thomas looked up, trying to hide a vindicated smile that spread across his thin lips. He’d call the wife and tell her the pool would have to wait. Once again, his intuition had been spot-on.

  He looked over at his partner.

  “So where do we go from here?” she asked as Thomas got up from his chair.

  Thomas didn’t say a word. He gestured for Anderson to follow him as he headed toward another room. Once inside, he pulled back a curtain that revealed a large picture window, which served as a two-way mirror.

  “You wanna know where we go from here, Anderson?” Thomas asked as he stared at the five people sitting on the other side of the glass. “For starters, we’re going to drill each one of them until we find out who the murderer is.”

  Walking away from the glass, Thomas retrieved a small notepad from his suit jacket and began flipping through pages. His partner watched the five suspects. They were all eating fried chicken from Popeyes and drinking soda and coffee ordered by the lieutenant and paid for by New York City taxpayers.

  “I don’t know, Dan. They all look like one big, happy family.” She shrugged. “What makes you think one of them is a murderer? I mean, there’s still the possibility of suicide.”

  “Possible, but not probable. This guy didn’t kill himself, and my gut tells me one of them did the job for him.”

  Thomas walked back over to the window next to Anderson, and they observed the group on the other side.

  “What do you mean? What do you see that I don’t? To me they all look pretty normal, more like the guy or girl next door than killers.” Anderson’s eyes went from the group to Thomas and then back to the two-way mirror again.

  “Maybe, but you’ve been on the job long enough to know that looks can be deceiving. I see five people who are hiding something.”

  “Hiding something like what? They all look content.”

  “If you had just lost a member of your ‘big, happy family,’ as you put it, would you still be sitting here, smiling and laughing while enjoying your food? Or would you be genuinely broken up about it?”

  She scanned the group again. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I never thought of it like that. The only one remotely upset is the kid.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Thomas said. “It’s like when the troublemaker of the family dies. Everyone shows up at the funeral for protocol. Do you see any tears being shed for that man in there, Anderson?”

  “Nope, I haven’t seen anything more than a few crocodile tears. All I see is a bunch of people getting fat on the city’s dime.” She folded her arms. “So, who do you think looks good for it? They can’t all be in on it.”

  “No, but my guess is that it’s one of the two ladies. A gruesome murder like this could only be a crime of passion. It’s not an easy thing to light a person on fire and burn them to a crisp. Not unless you really hate them.”

  Anderson nodded her agreement. “Which one?”

  “Take your choice.” Thomas glanced down at his notepad, then at the very scantily clad woman at the end of the table. “The neighborhood gossip said the deceased had a history with them both. Word is the pretty young thing over there is a schoolteacher, but I ain’t never had a teacher who looked like that.”

  “Me neither. What was her connection to the deceased?”

  “From what I’m hearing, jilted lover.”

  “Now that, my friend, would give her motive,” Anderson reasoned. “But if that’s the case, why are you even looking at the other one?”

  “You mean the fat ass?” Thomas said without missing a beat.

  “Dan!” Anderson snapped at his lack of political correctness, then added under her breath
, “Although she does have one hell of a donkey butt.”

  “No, I’m not saying she’s a fat ass. That’s what the deceased called her in front of the entire neighborhood this morning.”

  “Damn. I’d kill a motherfucker for that shit myself.”

  This time Anderson managed to get a laugh out of Thomas. “Exactly my point.”

  Anderson shook her head and then moved on to the next suspect. “If I had to put my money on somebody, I’d put it on him.” She pointed at the handsome man sitting next to a young college-aged kid. “You do realize that Cliff Huxtable over there is a fireman. And who would know more about setting a controlled fire than him?”

  “Nobody, except maybe a fireman’s son.” They both turned toward the boy.

  “Isn’t he like some straight-A genius or something like that?”

  “Mm-hmm, and so was the Craigslist Killer. That same gossip I spoke to said that he and the deceased spent a lot of time together in the deceased’s apartment—until they had a falling out.”

  “What about him?” Anderson pointed to a thin, light-skinned man in his late twenties wearing a well-tailored suit and a silk tie. He had a plateful of chicken in front of him but never took a bite. “Why does Mr. Shirt and Tie look so nervous?”

  “Him? Not sure, but he’s the jilted lover’s current boyfriend, and I hear him and our victim had a lot of beef over the girlfriend.”

  “Ohhhh. I’ve handled more than my share of love triangle cases. He could easily turn out to be our number one suspect.” She shook her head uncertainly. “I just don’t know, though…”

  “What’s there to know?” He looked his partner in the eye. “Like I said, one of those people in that room is a murderer. Now all we have to do is figure out which one.”

  Connie

  1

  Four months prior

  I stepped off the bus and briskly walked the eight blocks home, carrying two heavy shopping bags filled with groceries for my husband’s birthday celebration, for which I planned to go all out. I could have gotten off the bus at the corner of Guy R. Brewer Boulevard and 109th Street about a block from my apartment, but I’d heard some weight loss expert on The Today Show the other day explaining how if you get off one stop before yours and walk the rest of the way home every day, you can lose up to ten pounds per year. Sounds crazy, right? I’m not even saying that I believed her, just that I was so desperate to lose the fifty-plus pounds I’d gained after my wedding that I was willing to try anything. I’d tried every diet book, tummy-buster DVD, and weight loss infomercial gimmick there was, all with no results. With money being so tight now, walking was a lot cheaper than buying another set of DVDs or a gym membership.

  I had to do something to lose this weight. I couldn’t even get my husband, Avery, to look at me in a sexual manner, and the Lord knows I missed his touch.

  About halfway down my block I saw anchorwoman Nancy Williams staked out in front of my building, reporting the six o’clock news. Some folks watched CNN; others ABC or CBS; many got their news from 1010 WINS radio; but the women of my neighborhood got our local information from Nancy Williams and the 109th Street news team of gossips. Along with Nancy was her number one investigative reporter, Lily Nixon, our building super’s wife. Nancy’s weather girl, Ms. Bertha Dunbar from 1B, could tell you the next day’s weather just by how her bones felt. They were surrounded by three other neighbors from our building and a couple of girls from across the street.

  “Hey, y’all,” I greeted as I stopped in front of them, trying to catch my breath after my walk. They greeted me in their usual friendly manner, but the looks that passed between them told me something was up. Either they were trying to decide if they would include me in the latest gossip, or they were trying to decide who would be the one who got to break the story.

  “Okay, what’s the latest?” I asked Nancy. I knew it wouldn’t be long before she spilled her guts because Nancy couldn’t hold water. “Or should I be afraid to ask?”

  “Be afraid,” Nancy quipped.

  “Be very afraid,” Pam from across the street added with a smirk.

  “Humph! It’s our men that should be afraid.” Lily laughed as the women around her traded high fives and uh-huhs.

  It was starting to look like it would take a while for them to deliver the news, so I set my heavy bags down on the stoop. “What in the world are y’all talking about?”

  “Three-B.” Nancy pointed in the direction of the third-floor apartment on the right. “Or should I say, the man in 3B. That’s what we’re talking about.”

  I looked over at Lily. “So y’all finally rented it, huh?” I asked, wondering why that was such a big deal. Lily’s answer told me there was much more to the story.

  She practically purred when she told me, “We sure did, and I hope this one stays forever. It’s about time we had some new eye candy around here.”

  “Here, here,” a couple of the women chimed in unison.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Nancy added with a devilish grin. “I’m willing to chip in if he falls behind on his rent, just as long as he’s willing to work it off. If you know what I mean.” She wiggled her rear like she was about to take it from behind.

  “Well, if that’s the case, then count me in too,” one of the women cosigned with gyrating hips. “And hell, he ain’t even gotta do any work. I’ll take care of everything.” They all busted out laughing.

  I shook my head and joined their laughter. “I take it our new neighbor is a man?”

  “He’s more than just a man. He’s the man that’s gonna have the water and electric bills on this place going sky-high,” Jewell replied with deadpan seriousness.

  “Excuse me? Why’s that?” The last thing I needed was for our bills to be going up.

  “Because, honey, that man’s so fine, we gon’ be going through our wet panties like drawers is goin’ outta style. We gon’ be doing laundry and taking cold showers more than ever.”

  The cackling and high-fiving resumed.

  “Nancy, you and Lily ought to be ashamed of yourselves,” I said with a smile. “You’re married women for crying out loud.” I felt bad for their husbands. I mean, how bad were things at home if they were lusting over the new guy in 3B like that?

  I grabbed my bags before making my way up the steps and opened the door.

  “I may be married, but I ain’t dead,” Lily quipped.

  “That’s right,” Nancy said. “Go on with your bad self, but I guarantee you’ll be right out here with us once you get a load of what we’re talking about.”

  “I seriously doubt that. I got a man, and he’s all I need to get me through the night,” I answered before disappearing into my apartment building. I meant what I said about Avery being the only man I needed. I just wondered sometimes if he still felt the same way about me.

  Out of habit, I walked toward the elevator, but then remembered the advice of the woman on TV and headed for the stairs. Carrying those two heavy bags, I huffed and puffed up three flights. By the time I reached the landing to enter the third floor, my chest was heaving and I was so out of breath I thought I was going to pass out. My vision was so blurry that the number three on the door almost looked like thirty-three.

  This is ridiculous, I thought. How the hell did I ever let it come to this? Those were only three flights of stairs, not ten! I hauled my sweaty self through the doorway, leaning against the wall as I trudged down the hall to my apartment. In front of my door, I let both grocery bags fall out of my hands as I struggled to catch my breath.

  “Hey, are you okay down there?” a man’s voice called from the other end of the hall.

  It sounded like Benny, the young college kid who lived in 3C, but I was still too damn out of breath to lift my head and find out as I fumbled through my purse for my house keys.

  “Miss? Are you okay?”

  As he got closer, I finally looked up, and I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me because I swear I was staring at a god or maybe an
angel or something.

  “You okay?” he asked again.

  My vision was fine now, and this incredibly handsome figure stood before me. I could only nod.

  If this was who Nancy and her news crew were talking about outside, they hadn’t told no lies, because this brotha was finer than fine—the kind of fine where you turn to stare and walk right into a damn wall! He was tall with a skin fade and a perfectly manicured beard—a combination of Tyrese, Teddy Pendergrass, and Michael Jordan all wrapped up in one. He was wearing a jogging suit that fit him like it was tailor-made, and I could tell he was pure muscle underneath it. He wore an earring in his left lobe and an expensive watch on his wrist, but the piece of jewelry that stood out the most was the thick gold chain and a Star of David pendant he wore around his neck.

  “Umm… are you okay?” he asked for the third time before I finally realized this gorgeous man was waiting for me to speak.

  “Good Lord, I’ve died and gone to heaven! And you’re… you’re an angel, aren’t you? God sent me an angel, and he’s fine as hell.”

  Did I really just say that? How embarrassing. Now I was not only sweaty, but my face was also probably bright red. I had this terrible habit of saying really stupid things when I was around handsome men, and this was probably one of the best looking I’d ever seen. If I had my wits about me, I might have been able to play it off like I was joking, but I was so flustered by this guy I could barely think straight.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say all that.” He chuckled and flashed a smile with teeth so white I swear they lit up the hallway. “This place is nice, but I wouldn’t call it heaven, and the closest thing to an angel I’ve seen is you, pretty lady. Now, are you all right?”

  Pretty lady! Was he flirting with me? He couldn’t be flirting with me. Men like him didn’t flirt with me. But it sure sounded like he was flirting with me. Get it together, girl. You’re a married woman. I willed myself to snap out of it and start making some sense before he thought I was a complete lunatic.