“No. He’ll be calling us soon.”
“You think so?”
“As far as he knows, I quit his grandmother’s case, and now the police have even more solid evidence against her. He’ll be in touch, and when he does, we’ll have more of an angle to use as leverage.”
“Sounds good to me.”
I looked at my watch. It was officially late afternoon and the perfect time for a Manhattan. I knew I could use one.
23
The Photographer
After finishing my cocktail, I phoned Henry Mitchell, the lawyer for Guy Livingston. Despite my contentious interview with Bret Hardy, I still felt like I wasn’t giving the case enough attention.
“Mr. Rutherford, please tell me you’ve made a major breakthrough in the case.”
“I wish I could.”
“Closing arguments are tomorrow. I’ve got nothing. Guy is going to prison. There’s not a doubt in my mind.”
“I’m sorry I don’t have better news.”
“Have you made any progress?” the lawyer asked
“A little, which is why I’m calling. I was told that Lucy Livingston started her affair after coming to believe that Guy was cheating on her. Do you know anything about that?”
“I heard the same thing, but Guy told me it wasn’t true. He admitted to one before they moved to Maui, though.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Not about that. I thought he was lying.”
“How sure are you?”
“No one can be one hundred percent sure of anything, but I’m about as close as you can get.”
“What makes you say that?”
“It’s what I told you when we first talked. I’ve been in this game a long time. I can tell when someone is lying. Guy Livingston may have had an affair, but I still don’t think he killed his wife.”
“If he did cheat on Lucy, who do you think it was with?” I asked.
“That’s an easy one. His photography assistant, Bella Bridges. Once you get a look at her, you’ll understand.”
“Did your previous investigator speak with Bella?”
“Yes, because I told him to. He said he didn’t learn anything useful and he dropped it.”
“Can you send me her number? Maybe I can get something out of her,” I said.
“Sure thing. I’ll text it to you in a minute. Do me a favor and try to meet with her tonight. I need something for my closing.”
“I’ll do my best.”
I ended the call with Henry Mitchell, and the contact listing for Guy’s assistant came through a moment later. I phoned her and she told me she had a photography assignment she was leaving for, so we arranged a later time to meet in the lobby of one of the Kaanapali hotels.
I didn’t feel like hanging out at Harry’s until then. Instead, I said goodbye to Foxx and Kiana and drove home. I took Maui on a long walk and used the time to think about what I’d learned regarding the Eric Ellis case. I still had a hard time believing that Mele Akamu would have held onto the gun, even if the safe were as well-hidden as it seemed to be. Still, I knew people who’d committed far dumber acts and Mele Akamu wasn’t perfect.
My meeting time with Bella Bridges approached and I hopped into the car for the short drive to the hotel. I put the car in valet and then entered the lobby. It took all of three seconds to spot her. Her photography kit was an easy tell, and she’d done a good job of describing her attire: red polo shirt, black shorts, and black baseball cap put on backwards. The hat did little to hide the long blonde hair that spilled out past her shoulders. I guessed her age at around forty. She was a real looker.
“Ms. Bridges,” I said as I walked up to her.
“You must be Edgar Rutherford.”
We shook hands.
“Thanks for taking the time to meet with me. How did your photoshoot go?”
“It went well. We often do these shoots in the early evening as the sun is starting to set.”
“I think I caught some of that beautiful light on the drive over here,” I said. “Would you mind if we go to an area of the lobby that’s a little less crowded?”
“No problem.”
We walked to the back of the lobby where we found a small table with a great view of the ocean. The area was relatively quiet, and I assumed most of the hotel guests were in their rooms preparing to go out for dinner.
“I was a little surprised when you called me. I was already interviewed by an investigator,” she said.
“I know, and I appreciate your indulgence. I picked up this case rather late in the process. I have just a few questions and won’t take up much of your time.”
“No problem. What did you want to know?”
“How long did you and Guy work together?” I asked.
“Just shy of three years. He hired me to be his assistant when his work started taking off. I’d been dabbling with photography for a while, but I was nowhere ready to go out on my own.”
“Just curious. What did you do before photography?”
“I had a string of restaurant jobs on the island. I don’t know if you’ve ever worked in that industry, but it can really wear you out. I was desperate to start something new.”
“I have worked those jobs, and you’re right, they’re not fun,” I said.
“Then you know how taking photos on the beach is a big step up.”
“Absolutely. I assume you’re now taking over the business.”
“That’s right. The hotels like our work and our service. They started calling me directly once Guy got arrested.”
“How was Guy to work for?”
“He was great. Very patient. He taught me a lot.”
“How well did you know his wife, Lucy?” I asked.
“Not well. We only met a couple of times. She never came to the photoshoots and Guy and I liked to keep our personal lives separate.”
“Meaning you didn’t go to dinner with the couple or things like that?”
“Exactly.”
“Was that decision his or yours?”
“His, I guess.”
“Did you find that odd?”
“Not really. Some people like
