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.

“Well, do you? Know them?” I added, heading off an I-dunno at the pass.

“Yeah.” He pointed a finger at Jim Brody. “He drives an Escalade most of the time. But he’s got like three other cars. They’re so hot.”

I pointed at Sebastian Foster.

“Jaguar, like in Austin Powers. Shag-a-delic!” He laughed at himself.

Paul Kenner. Ferrari.

Bennett Walker.

“Porsche Carrera.”

I pulled Irina’s picture out and held it up next to the magazine cover. “Did you ever see this girl leave here with any of these men?”

“Yeah.” ‘

“Which one?”

He shrugged. “That one.”

I held my breath as he raised his hand, reached out, and touched the magazine cover with his finger.

“Porsche Carrera.”

Bennett Walker.

Chapter 28

I started trembling. My heart was beating so fast I should have been frightened. A witness could put Irina with Bennett Walker, leaving the club together in his Porsche.

“When?” I asked. “When did you see them leave together?”

He dropped his hand and shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe a week ago.”

Not the night she disappeared, I realized. This kid hadn’t been working Saturday night. Still, his statement put them together, established that they had spent time alone together.

Unless that was what Jeff the Weasel was hiding-that Bennett Walker was the guy Irina had left with, that Bennett had bought the kid’s silence.

“And that one.”

His voice snapped me out of my speculation. “What?”

“That one,” he said again, touching the tip of his finger to the magazine page. “Escalade.”

Jim Brody.

“He gets a lot of girls,” he said. “I don’t know why. He’s really old.”

“And really rich,” I said.

Jeff the Weasel came jogging back from the valet lot, looking suspicious.

“So, Jeff,” I said. “Your friend here says he saw that girl leave with Jim Brody.”

“No, he didn’t,” Jeff said. “He wasn’t even working Saturday night.”

“Not Saturday night,” the tall one said. “Last week. Remember? You were here.”

Jeff stared at his pal, wide-eyed. “You are so fucking stupid! Shut up! You’re not supposed to talk about the customers!”

“Guess what, Jeff?” I said flatly. “If one of these guys was the last person to see that girl alive, we’re not talking about a customer. We’re talking about a killer. And you’re not part of the Wink-Wink-Boys-Will-Be-Boys Club. You’re aiding and abetting in a felony murder. You don’t get sent to juvie hall for that. You ask your mother to pack you clean underwear and a big tube of K-Y Jelly, because you’re going away to live with the big dogs.”

I pulled my phone out of my bag and called Landry while I stood there. I wasn’t sure whether he would pick up or not. To his credit, he did.

“There are two valets working the parking lot at Players tonight,” I said without preamble. “You need to speak with them as soon as possible. They have information.”

I hung up. The boys stood side by side, Mutt and Jeff-literally-mouths hanging open.

“You’ll be meeting Detective Landry from the sheriff’s office shortly,” I informed them. “Please give him my regards.”

I left them standing there panicking and walked down to my car. When I pushed the button on the remote to unlock the doors, the lights flashed and the car made a little wolf-whistle sound- and someone jumped off the hood and spun around to face me.

I don’t know which of us was more startled: me, or the peculiar little character caught with her hand in the Burger King bag I had left on the hood.

We stared at each other. She was in the same strange getup as the last time-the black unitard that covered everything but her face, the conical hat with the pom-pom, the platform shoes. Only her makeup had changed. Tonight her face was painted a dark color-blue or purple, I thought, though I couldn’t really tell in le poor light of the parking lot. The area around her left eye was outlined in silver. She had painted a trail of curving lines from the right corner of her mouth up diagonally across her cheek to the corner of her right eye.