Ralph Lauren model.”
“You’d have to ask Juan Barbaro about that,” he said. “I do okay.”
“You’re not secretly a wannabe polo star? A spy? A high-priced gigolo?”
He smiled, and female hearts all around the room skipped a beat. “Why do you ask?”
I laughed. “I don’t buy trouble, but you’d be worth your weight in gold in Palm Beach.”
He pretended to shudder. “I don’t need money that badly. And I prefer my ladies be under retirement age.”
And who could blame him? The median age of the Island’s residents was creeping up toward the speed limit. Plastic surgery was a growth industry.
“So draw the line at the bedroom door,” I said. “Do you have any idea what a walker can make during season?”
“Escorting old ladies to charity balls isn’t my idea of a good time,” he said. “I enjoy what I do, the people I meet. It’s fun.”
“You make a lot of friends here,” I said.
“Yeah.”
The waitress came by, gave him an order, and gave me the once-over and a dirty look. Little bitch.
“You said you knew Irina.”
“Yeah. She was something.”
“Do you know any of her friends? Girlfriends she might have confided in?”
He started to shake a martini. Muscles rippled in his chest and upper arms.
“My opinion: Irina had acquaintances and rivals, not friends. She didn’t strike me as the kind of girl who would confide in anyone.”
“Rivals?”
“The girls that run with that crowd all want the same thing, and there are only so many multimillionaires and handsome polo players to go around.”
He gave me a funny look. “You worked with her. You must know more about her than I do.”
“It’s becoming clear to me that I didn’t know her at all,” I said. “What about Lisbeth Perkins? She was a friend.”
“Girl crush.”
“Lisbeth is gay?”
“No,” he said. “It was more like hero worship. Irina was glamorous, exotic, sophisticated, self-assured.”
Everything Lisbeth was not.
“Did Irina ever come in here with a boyfriend?”
“Nope.” He poured the drink and added two olives.
“Did she ever leave here with a boyfriend?”
“Not that I noticed,” he said, “but my vision gets poorer and poorer as people move toward the door.”
“Would an infusion of cash improve that?”
He shook his head.
“Did an infusion of cash cause that problem?”
“I have other customers,” he said, and started to turn away. His left hand was braced against the bar. I reached out and caught his wrist.
“She’s dead, Kayne. If you know something, it’s worth a hell of a lot more than a big tip off the books. It’s one thing to turn a blind eye to an affair. Irina was murdered. If you know something about that but you tell the police that you don’t, you’re committing a crime. You could be charged as an accessory after the fact.”
He pulled away from my touch, frowning. “I don’t know who killed Irina. If I did, I would tell the detectives. Do you want another drink?”
“No, thanks.”
“Then that’ll be six-fifty.”
He walked away. I finished my drink, left a ten on the bar, and went back to the lobby. I was frustrated. There were people around who had information, but there was no getting it out of them. Selfish, conscienceless bastards. Maybe I should have given Alexi Kulak a list of their names.
I went downstairs to the restaurant on my way to the ladies’ room and spied Sean sitting by himself, eating a pork chop and reading POLO magazine. He didn’t look up as I approached his table. He didn’t look up as I took the seat across from him.
“You look lonely back here,” I said.
“I didn’t feel up to having company,” he said. The guilt trip. I guess I deserved it.
I sighed and leaned my forearms on the tabletop. My mother would have been mortified to see it.
“I’m sorry about this morning,” I said. “I shouldn’t have implied you weren’t supportive. My God, you’ve been the only support I’ve had for most of my life. You know what that means to me.”
My eyes started to burn. I would have had tears in them if not for the damage caused by “the Incident,” as my attorney liked to call it.
Sean’s expression softened, and he reached across the table and put his hand over mine. “I love you, honey,” he said sincerely. “I don’t want to see you have to open the door on all that misery.
“I hate Bennett Walker at least half as much as you do. If he was involved in Irina’s murder, I want to see him in prison. But I don’t want this to tear you up, El. I remember what it was like during Bennett’s trial, what it did to you. It broke my heart.”
There was a lump in my throat the size of a crab cake. I had to look away from him to compose myself. My eyes went to the magazine he was reading, but I didn’t really take it in.
“Yeah,” I tried to joke. “Made me the neurotic mess I am today.”
He took my chin in his hand and turned my face sideways, scrutinizing my lip. “If that scars, I have the perfect doctor to fix it.”
“Yeah?” I said. “And where do you have him? In one of your closets?”
“New York, of course. He did my eyes.”
“What?”
“Blepharoplasty,” he specified. “They take-”
“I know what it means.”
“Five years ago,” he said. “You never would have guessed, would you?”
“No. I’ve just always thought you were a wonder of nature.”
“Honey, even wonders of nature can use a little tweak now and again.”
I laughed, looking down at the table. His magazine caught my eye again.
“What are you reading?”
“I’m not reading. I’m just looking at the pictures,” he confessed. “I want to have some of these Argentinian polo players stripped naked, dipped in chocolate, and delivered to my house.”
“May I?” I asked, reaching for the magazine. Sean pushed it toward me.
“You need to lasso one of these young stallions for yourself, El,” Sean said. “Forget Landry. He’s cute, but he’s too cranky. Grab one of these guys and ride ‘im, cowgirl.”
I didn’t respond. I barely heard him. As I picked up the magazine, I fixed on the cover. The banner read: Fun in the Sun: Top Amateur Players in Florida. The cover featured a photo of Sebastian Foster, Jim Brody, Paul Kenner, and Bennett Walker.
“Can I borrow this?” I asked.
Sean frowned. “What for?”
I was already out of my chair. I went around the table, kissed him on the cheek, and left the restaurant.
The goose was at the valet stand, staring out at nothing, with his mouth hanging open. He jumped when I spoke.
“Hey, kid, look at this picture,” I said, holding the magazine up in front of his face. “Do you recognize any of these men?”
“I dunno.”
“It’s not a trick question. You either recognize them or you don’t.”
He looked at me like he thought I might do something to him.
