As for Mariah, he was sure he could avoid her. He'd see her at the party but the rest of the time he'd give her a wide berth. She'd been at the bar the night that Brad had disappeared but he probably didn't even need to talk to her. He'd been with her the entire evening so her recollection was his recollection. At least that's what he was telling himself.
Chicago traffic was heavy but eventually the cab pulled up in front of his apartment building located in Lincoln Park. He'd had a hard time explaining to his firm's administrative assistant that he didn't need a hotel booked for the trip. He already had a place to stay. His parents owned the building and they'd gifted him the apartment when he'd graduated from college. They'd said they always wanted him to have a home in Chicago no matter what happened in his life. He'd taken it as they didn't think he could make a living and pay for a place to live on a cop's salary. But it did come in handy from time to time.
When he came to visit, he didn't have to stay in his parents' home or impose on his sister and brother-in-law. He could decompress in his own place and even leave his socks on the floor if he wanted to. He couldn't do that living with Jack and Patricia. They liked their home to look like no one actually lived there.
He pushed his key into the apartment door but it didn't click, simply swinging open. He could hear the sound of music and some familiar off-key singing.
Liza, his sister. What was she doing here?
"You're lucky I don't have a gun. I might have shot you."
She had his refrigerator and kitchen cabinets wide open; brown grocery bags were spread out over the marble countertops. When she saw him, she grinned and ran straight for him, wrapping him in a big hug.
"It's so good to see you," she squealed, pressing a kiss to his cheek and hugging him again. "I was hoping to have all of this done before you got here. Your flight must have made good time. And no, I don't think you would have shot me."
"I didn't expect you here. You should never surprise a cop."
"You're a former cop and I'm your sister. Besides, are you really that jumpy that you’d shoot first and ask questions later? You might want to see someone about that if it's true."
His gaze ran over the overflowing bags. "How about you tell me what you're doing here? How did you even know that I was coming?"
Her brows rose. "Maybe I have a crystal ball?"
If she did it was Waterford.
"You've never been psychic in your life. Try again."
She heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. He was struck by how much she resembled their mother. Long dark hair and brown eyes. Petite and slim. How had he not noticed that before? There was a photo of Patricia Beck on the fireplace mantle in their vacation home in Paris that looked just like Liza.
"You called the doorman and he called me. Simple."
"Why did the doorman call you?"
She shoved a container of ice cream into the freezer. Chocolate. He made a mental note to rip into that later tonight.
"Because I'm managing most of the family real estate these days, brother dear."
"I didn't know that."
"You would know if you took an interest in your family."
"I take an interest."
"Barely." She snapped the freezer door shut. "So anyway, the doorman told me you were coming and I decided to be a lovely sister and fill your pantry so you wouldn't starve."
He held up his phone. "I can order in."
"You could but I know you. You like to cook."
He did like to cook. Nothing was better than a home-cooked meal. He was self-taught but he wasn't too bad in the kitchen. He hadn't poisoned anyone yet, and the people he'd cooked for were quite complimentary.
"Thank you, that was nice. It looks like you bought out the store, though. I may not be here that long."
She folded up one of the empty grocery bags. "That was my next question. How long are you going to be here? Obviously, you'll be here for the party."
It was only coincidence that he'd been assigned to a case at the same time as his mother's birthday party, but yes, he would be here for that.
"Actually, I'm here in Chicago on a case."
Her head jerked up and her brows pinched together. "A case? You're not here for the party?"
"I will be here for the party," he stated firmly. "I promise. But I was assigned to investigate Brad's death. You probably don't know but–"
"I know," she interrupted, her lips turning down sadly. "I know about Brad. Mom mentioned that the family was going to try and get you to investigate, but to be honest I assumed you'd say no."
Ryan ignored the fact that saying no had been his first response.
"You didn't think I'd care enough?"
Liza shrugged. "I was eighteen months younger than you but I ran with the same crowd. I don't remember you and Brad being best buddies."
"We were friends...especially when we were younger."
"Time changes some things. Still, I'm glad that you said yes. I would imagine finding out what happened that night won't be easy. It was so long ago."
"What do you remember about that night?"
Softly chuckling, Liza smiled at her memories. "That I wasn't supposed to be in that bar to begin with. I had a fake ID and I was afraid to get caught. Mom and Dad would been livid if they found out. I also remember that Mike asked me to dance. I was so excited."
Mike Monroe was Liza's husband but they hadn't started dating that night. It had been several years before they'd ended up together. Ryan had always liked the guy and he'd been glad when they’d married.
"Speaking of Mike, how's he doing? I haven't talked to him in awhile."
"He's so busy," Liza explained. "He has several big cases that he's handling. I hardly see him during the week. He works crazy hours."
Mike worked for his family's law firm and was one of the leading corporate attorneys in Chicago. Maybe New York City and Los Angeles too.
"Are you going to want to talk to him?" she asked, placing the last of the groceries in the cabinets. "He was there and he was friends with Brad."
"Eventually I'll need to talk to everyone."
When Liza didn't reply right away, he knew something was up. She was rarely at a loss for words.
"Is there something you want to say?"
She tucked the garbage bags in a lower cabinet and then straightened. "I was just going to tell you that talking to Mariah won't be a problem."
He hadn't really planned on talking to Mariah, but he wasn't going to tell his sister that.
"That's good."
Liza picked up her handbag and dug into it, jangling her keys. "I didn't tell you before but I guess I better tell you now so you're not surprised. Again. I wouldn't have to tell you these things if you spent more time here with your family."
More guilt.
"You're getting almost as good as Mom when it comes to sending me on a guilt trip. Spit it out. What's going on?"
She huffed a bit but continued. "Fine. Talking to Mariah won't be a problem because she lives across the hall. She bought the other half of this floor right after Christmas. She uses it as her home and art studio. So if you were thinking about trying to avoid her, I'm afraid that won't be possible. She's your neighbor. Now I need to get going. I have an appointment in a few hours. How about we try to have lunch tomorrow? I'll let you pick up the check."