the world of the wealthy seems easy and wonderful. But every kind of life has its price and its pitfalls. In a lifestyle where there are no boundaries, it becomes a challenge to find one’s true self. If everything comes easily, there is no way to establish worth. And if nothing has real value, then there is no way to gauge satisfaction or accomplishment or contentment.
That was Bennett Walker’s world. He had everything anyone could possibly want, yet he was never satisfied. He had taken everything there was to take-except perhaps a human life. And in a world where nothing meant anything, why not take that too, just to see what it might be like to play God?
Bennett had always believed the world should run according to his plan. What if Irina had decided to disrupt that plan? What if she had decided she could get what she wanted by getting the upper hand on Bennett? What if she had told him she was pregnant, and that she expected him to marry her?
I could imagine the wrath that would set loose in Bennett Walker.
“Did you think something might happen that night, Lisbeth?” I asked. “Is that why you tried so hard to keep Irina from going to the after-party?”
“I’m really tired,” she whispered. “I want to go to sleep now.”
I considered pressing her harder but decided against it. Emotional battery was a good start. I would save sleep deprivation for later.
I didn’t allow myself to feel guilty about it. Lisbeth was alive, Irina was not. Lisbeth would recover. The best I could do for Irina was vengeance. If I had to further manipulate, deceive, and abuse this girl to get it, so be it.
“One last question,” I said. “Did you ever see Bennett Walker- or any of the rest of them, for that matter-hurt Irina physically?”
She didn’t answer me. Either she was faking it or she had in fact fallen asleep. It didn’t matter which. I didn’t need Lisbeth Perkins to tell me Bennett Walker was capable of hurting a woman.
I knew that firsthand.
Chapter 45
“I knew he was up to no good,” the gate guard said. J. Jones. She pursed her lips and shook her head as she narrowed her eyes at the photograph of Bennett Walker. She was the size of a small upright freezer.
“How’s that?” Landry asked.
“Because men that good-looking are always up to no good,” she said, looking at him like he was stupid. “And he never drives that car. What’s he doing in that car? He’s always Mr. Big riding around in his Porsche or his this or his that. He ain’t ridin‘ around in no Volkswagen. Him and that dark-haired foreign guy. Ooooh! I got to say, I do like lookin’ at that one.”
“You’re sure it was him?” Weiss said, tapping at Bennett Walker’s head with his ballpoint pen. “You’re sure it was Sunday night?”
“Am I sure?” she said, offended by his obvious stupidity.
“Am I sure? That’s my job. That’s what I do. Are you sure you’re a detective?”
“I have to ask that one every once in a while myself, Miss Jones,” Landry said, straight-faced.
Laughter exploded out of her like a cannon shot. Her massive chest rose and fell like a ten-foot sea. “You got a sense of humor,” she declared.
“No,” Landry said. “Not really.”
The guard turned back to Weiss. “Honey, I’m working here in the middle of the damn night. Someone comes, someone goes, I’m gonna know it. That’s what passes for excitement here. You think I’m just sitting around doing my nails all night? You think I’m just watching movies?”
“Were you here Saturday night?” Landry asked, pressing on.
“No. I was off Saturday. I have a life, you know. I’m not just sit-tin‘ in this place my whole life like a veal.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Weiss said impatiently. “We’ve got the tape. Let’s go.”
Landry thanked the guard and left the booth behind Weiss, who was already halfway to his car.
“So?” Weiss said. “That’s gotta be enough for a search warrant for Walker’s house. Videotape and an eyewitness who puts him in the dead girl’s car.”
Landry’s phone rang. Elena. He held a finger up at Weiss and took the call. “Landry.”
“The after-party was at Bennett Walker’s house in the Polo Club. Lisbeth told me.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
He clicked the cell phone closed and said to Weiss, “The party was at Walker’s house. Now we have enough for a warrant. Let’s go nail his ass.”
Chapter 46
I prowled around my living room with my cell phone in my hand, trying to decide what to do next. I could go to Bennett’s neighborhood in the Polo Club and ask around to see if anyone saw him murder a girl Saturday night. That would go over big.
I could see it: security handing me over to Landry to be arrested for criminal trespass while he was executing a search warrant at Bennett’s house. How convenient.
He didn’t need me asking the neighbors anything. He would have uniforms doing KOD duty (knocking on doors) while he oversaw what went on in the house.
He would be trying to get a search warrant, I knew. If I had been in his position, that was what I would have been trying to do. I wondered how far he would get before my father stuck a wrench in the wheels of justice.
If he hadn’t already at some point in his career, Landry was about to find out that there was a different set of rules for men like Bennett Walker and Edward Estes. The iron hand of justice would put on the kid glove. People who would have been ready to jab the needle in the arm of any other murderer would suddenly back down. The district attorney would be more willing to accommodate a deal.
Hard time? Surely, Mr. Walker-whose father-in-law footed the campaigns of practically every Republican candidate in the state-hadn’t intended to strangle the girl. It was probably an accident. Perhaps time in a minimum-security facility with a good tennis court in exchange for a plea to involuntary manslaughter…
But what was I thinking? My father would never entertain the idea of a plea. He would run the state ragged in a full-blown CourtTV trial. He would reach deep into Bennett’s coffers and call expert witness after expert witness. The state’s budget for the trial would be pocket change by comparison. The state’s attorney would be begging for five bucks to get ink pens and legal pads for the table. Edward would be forking over five or ten grand a pop for people with degrees to take the witness stand and convince the jury to buy a nickel for a dime.
At least this time the victim couldn’t recant her testimony in exchange for a six-figure payoff.
Restless, I went to look in on Lisbeth. Whether she had been faking it or not when I left the room, she was well and truly out now. The lamplight from the bedside table touched her face with an amber glow. She looked about twelve, with her thick, wavy mane spread out across the pillow. A little girl still dreaming about becoming a princess.
I went in and covered her with a cashmere throw and touched her forehead to check for any sign of a fever.
Elena Estes: Mother Earth.
The cell phone vibrated in my hand. I walked out into the hall and answered it.
“Elena? It’s Juan. I need to speak with you.”
“Here I am,” I said. “Have at it.”
“No, no. Not this way. I want to see you.”
“Why?”
“You are not making this easy for me,” he said.
