“Meaning you’re thinking Walker did Irina.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” I said. “It’s becoming more and more apparent that you don’t know anything about me n any way that matters.”

“Maybe if you offered-”

“Why would I?” I demanded. “Why would I do that? Why would I share anything with you? Why would I trust you, James?

“You’ve shown me you’ll take anything I say and use it against me. If I learned anything being the daughter of Edward Estes, I learned not to do that. I have the right to remain silent.”

He touched my arm as I started to walk away from him. I jerked way from him and kept walking, wishing I could walk right out of my life and into another, where I had no past, and no one knew anything about me, and I could be whoever I wanted to be.

What a pleasant fiction that would be. If I could pull it off. But I didn’t know how to be anyone other than who I was, and I didn’t know what else to do but go on.

Chapter 25

Weiss drove up and parked at the curb on the wrong side of the drive as Elena walked away, headed toward her car.

“There goes trouble,” he said, getting out of the car.

“Shut up,” Landry said, and turned for the building.

He wanted a drink and a cigarette and to be able to shut his emotions off, like a sociopath. Life had to be a lot simpler with emotions stripped away, no energy wasted on overreaction, anger, regret. The way things were, he was going to drive himself to an early grave.

“They’re not going to cooperate,” Weiss said. “These are the kind of guys who have three-hundred-dollar-an-hour attorneys standing around in Brooks Brothers suits just on account of they look good.”

“So they can call in the dogs,” Landry snapped. “So what?”

“I’m just saying.”

“I don’t expect them to cooperate. I want to ratchet up a little tension. Refusing to give the DNA sample only makes them look guilty.”

“Of getting a group rate on blowjobs,” Weiss said. “We’re a long ways from proving a homicide.”

“They call themselves the Alibi Club,” Landry said.

“The Alibi Club? Where’d you hear that?”

“The Perkins girl,” he said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. “She said things get pretty out of hand at their parties.”

“Was she there Saturday night? I thought she left.”

“She tried to talk the Markova girl out of staying.”

Weiss stopped and looked at him. “When did you get her to tell you all this? We could hardly get her to tell us her name this morning.”

“Maybe she just didn’t like you, Weiss,” Landry offered.

“Up yours, Landry.”

“Let’s go do this,” Landry said, and went into the 7th Chukker bar.

It was a far cry from Magda’s. Beautiful antique bar, plasma-screen TV showing a polo match, a waitress who didn’t look like she had to shave twice a day.

He went straight to the table where Brody, Walker, and Barbaro sat. Weiss took Sebastian Foster’s table.

Landry looked hard at Barbaro. It should be illegal for a guy to be that good-looking. The mental image of the Spaniard touching Elena sent a rush of angry heat through him.

“Sorry for the misunderstanding, Mr. Barbaro,” he said without much sincerity. “I’ve got a hot button when it comes to men abusing women. This murder has me on edge.”

“Understandable,” Barbaro said. He didn’t sound very sincere either. “You are a friend of Miss Estes?”

“I wouldn’t say that, no. She found Irina Markova’s body.”

“She used to be a detective,” Jim Brody said. “The two of you must go back.”

“No,” Landry said. “We don’t. I’m sure Mr. Walker here knows more about Ms. Estes than I do.”

Bennett Walker frowned, sulky. Spoiled rich kid at forty-something. If they had been little kids, Landry would have knocked him on his ass on the playground. He wondered how Elena had ever looked at this guy and thought it might be a good idea to marry him. But then, he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of Elena marrying anyone. She was so wary, so cynical.

Bennett Walker had to be a big part of the reason why.

“What brings you here, Detective?” Brody asked. He pushed himself up out of his chair, the genial host, half a cigar stuck in one corner of his mouth.

“We don’t pass for members?” Landry said. He looked over at Weiss; Weiss shrugged.

“No offense,” Brody said, “but if either of you boys has seven figures or more in your bank account, you must have one hell of a second job.”

“We’re trying to eliminate people from our list of possible suspects,” Weiss said.

“You can check us all off the list,” Brody said. “I thought we covered that this morning.”

“Not that we don’t believe you,” Landry said, “but this is the age of forensics. We’re collecting DNA samples from men Irina Markova spent time with the night she disappeared. It’s just a little swab inside the cheek. No big deal.”

Brody’s eyebrows went up. “DNA samples? Sounds like a very big deal to me.”

“It’s for elimination purposes,” Weiss said. “If you didn’t do anything to the girl, there’s no problem.”

“My attorney will have a problem with it,” Bennett Walker said, he rose from his seat as well, ready to make a break for it.

“Why is that?” Landry asked. “Because you’re already a suspected sex offender?”

“Because of that attitude,” Walker said, jabbing a finger at him. I was never convicted of anything. And I don’t have any intention)f having my name connected in any way to this murder.“

“It’s a little late for that,” Landry said. “You were in Irina Markova’s company in a public place the night she was killed. I’ll be surprised if that isn’t news at eleven tonight. You might want to call your wife and tell her to go to bed early.”

Walker was pissed. Landry could see an artery pulsing in the man’s neck. “You leaked that information to the media?”

“I have more important things to do with my time,” Landry said. “The media does a pretty good job of digging up dirt on their own. You ought to know by now how that works.”

Walker spoke to Brody. “I’m not putting up with this harassment. Are you?”

“No, of course not. I’m going to dinner,” Brody said, unconcerned. “If you want to get a court order, Detective Landry, go ahead. Then you can speak with my attorney.”

“That goes for me too,” Walker said. “I know too much about how evidence can be tampered with to make someone look guilty.”

Landry shrugged. “Suit yourself. But you look pretty damn guilty as it is refusing the test, considering your past. Don’t come crying to me when that hits the papers.”

Walker was red in the face, and sweat beaded on his forehead. He was used to getting what he wanted. He had clearly been accepted back into the fold of the filthy rich after he walked on the rape/assault back when. He had money and his victim did not. In the eyes of the Palm Beach crowd, that made him a target and her a liar out for hush money.

Landry had looked back over everything he could find on the case. He didn’t think like a billionaire. He thought like a cop. And a cop’s conclusion was that Walker had been guilty and had bought his way out of jail with no more concern than if he had been playing a game of Monopoly.

Walker wanted to hit him. He could feel it, could see it in the man’s eyes. Landry found that perversely amusing, and he smiled.

“You want to knock me on my ass for that?” Landry said. “Go ahead. I’ll be all too happy to haul you in for assaulting an officer.”

Brody intervened. “Bennett, let’s go. The chef is waiting for us.”

The rest of them had been pulled in by the tension. No one said anything while they waited for Walker to respond. When he didn’t, Paul Kenner, the erstwhile baseball player, got up and slapped Walker on the shoulder.

“Let’s go, my man, the steaks are calling my name.” He moved past Walker, turned around, and headed slowly backward in the direction of a door on the far end of the room.