Die Smiling (16 page)

I looked at him. Black looked at me to see if I was going to shoot him.

Fortunately, Dixson got himself together real quick. “I'm sorry, Detective. None of this is your fault.” He tossed down another glass of whiskey. He had to be feeling pretty good by now. Maybe it'd loosen his tongue. So I waited. The Patient but Cold as Ice Detective.

Dixson said, “Okay, okay. Hilde was fine, in a great mood. We laughed, we played music while I shot her, the Beatles, can you believe it? Hilde loved the Beatles, especially the early albums. You know,
A Hard Day's Night
was the name of the one we listened to. God, we had a good time. She made a pitcher of margaritas, and we drank the whole thing.”

Yeah? Well, surprise, surprise.

“Did Hilde drink often?”

Dixson shrugged. I was relieved to see him pick up the cap and screw it back on the bottle. “I really wish you'd tell me how she died. She didn't suffer, did she? She couldn't take much pain, ya know? Said she had a real low threshold for it. Even headaches sent her to the ER. And she just wasn't very brave, not when it came to pain, know what I mean?”

“Your relationship sounds like more than a run-of-the-mill photographer and client.”

“We weren't lovers, if that's what you're gettin' at. But hell, I'm no different than most guys. I would've given my right arm to go out with her. One thing, though, she did trust me, even confided in me sometimes. She was a real unhappy woman most of the time.”

“How do you mean?”

“She was terribly insecure, I guess. She had a tough childhood, she told me that a couple of times after she'd had too much to drink. A really bad scene when she was little, at least, that's what I got from it.”

Black shifted slightly in the chair beside me, and I knew his shrink mind was analyzing in high gear and making all kinds of diagnoses. Mine was, too. He was probably dying to ask a few pertinent questions of his own. But this was my job, my turn to take charge. He wouldn't interfere, not yet, anyway.

“Hilde indicated to you that she was abused as a child?”

“That's what I took from it. I guess she never said that outright, but she used to tear up and cry when she got to thinkin' about it. I remember one time she sobbed like crazy, but like I said before, she was pretty damn drunk. We always drank when I was shooting her. Said it relaxed her. She was right, too, it did.”

“Did she ever mention a sister?”

“You mean Brianna?”

“Yes, do you know her?”

“Oh, yeah. She's the smart one.”

Well, here we go again with the Mensa Minnie versus Helen of Troy routine. “Smart one?”

“Bri's got a master's degree in psychology from U of Miami. That comes off as pretty smart to me.”

Right. Me, too. Bud's gal was getting right up there with Black and all his psychiatrist diplomas.

Black couldn't resist that one, didn't hide his astonishment, either. “Brianna Swensen has a degree in psychology? She's never mentioned that to me.”

“Yeah, well, she liked to play it down, because it used to make Hilde feel bad about herself.”

I said, “So there was a significant sibling rivalry between the two sisters?”

Dixson barked a short laugh. It came out hard, almost contemptuous. “Hell, what'd you think? They're women, aren't they? They competed against each other for years. You think that won't wreck a relationship?”

“I don't know either of them well enough to make that kind of judgment. Other people have indicated to me that they were fairly close.” Except Betina Long.

“Then these others, whoever the hell they are, didn't know a damn thing about them.”

I looked down at my tablet, thought a moment, then took another tack. “What can you tell me about Carlos Vasquez?”

“Nothing much. He's Hilde's ex. But he doesn't like how she ran out on him. He's been using every trick in the book to get back with her, trust me. He's a real prick. Ask anybody who's had dealings with him.”

“What kind of dealings have you had with him, Mr. Dixson?”

“I just knew him through Hilde. That was enough to know he was bad news, believe me. I heard he was mixed up somehow in the mob.”

“Do you have any proof of that?”

“No. Just an idle rumor, but it wouldn't surprise me.”

“Do you know when he last contacted Hilde Swensen?”

Dixson shook his head. “She didn't say much about him during the shoot.”

“What did she talk about?”

“She kept saying she couldn't stop loving him, but that he cheated on her and she couldn't forgive that. I told her to give herself time and she'd get over him and find somebody worthy of her.”

It seemed to be that he was speaking about Hilde as if she were still alive, but I didn't remark on it. “Do you know where I might find Mr. Vasquez?”

“I'd say your best bet is his spa. He used to be down there twenty-four/seven, at least when he's not out at the clubs trying to pick up somebody else's wife.”

“It's clearly apparent that you don't care for this man. Did the two of you have difficulties?”

“We hate each other's guts, if that's what you call difficulties.”

“Why is that?”

“He despises me because Hilde counted me as her friend. He didn't like her to have male friends, or female ones, either, as far as that goes. I hate him because he treats her like shit. Is that good enough?”

“I'm asking you questions because I have to, Mr. Dixson. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable or makes you feel like I'm invading your privacy.”

Dixson relaxed some, but only a little bit. “Yeah, I know. Sorry. This hit me pretty hard. It's so sudden and nothing I ever expected. Like I said, Hilde and I are old friends.”

“Did Hilde mention anything to you that you found odd or unlike her?”

Dixson considered a moment as he poured himself another drink. He didn't chug it this time, just sipped it, so I guess we were making progress there. “I remember her saying that she and Bri were getting along, said they weren't on the outs, for a change. She told me it wouldn't last, though, because Brianna had called up and jumped her ass again right before I showed up with my gear.”

Black jumped on that. Butted in, couldn't help himself, I guess. “Did Hilde indicate what Brianna was upset about?”

I didn't glare at him or order him from the room. He'd verbalized my next question, anyway.

“Brianna was always on Hilde's back big-time about partying so much. Apparently, Bri's gotten to be a little prude since she moved up here and started dating that cop. Hilde didn't like Bri being in that kind of relationship.”

Aha. Now we were getting down to some shiny brass tacks. “Why was that?”

“She didn't like cops, any of them. She got busted in Miami a couple of times on drug possession. By undercover guys who came on to her in the clubs, but most of it was bogus. Her lawyer always managed to get her off.”

“What else did Hilde say about Brianna's relationship with the cop?”

“She said Bri was playing him along, that he wasn't her type at all and it wouldn't last.”

“What made Hilde think Bri was playing this guy?”

“I don't know that. Hilde didn't elaborate. She just said Bri was using him and she couldn't figure out why.”

“It sounds like Hilde and Brianna were two very different women.”

“Not so much, really, if you knew them like I do. My opinion? Bri's just playing at being a normal kinda girl with an upstanding boyfriend, white picket fence, and rosy future. Hilde said she'd get tired of that kinda boredom sooner or later and head back down to Florida where her real friends were.”

This was definitely not going down well with me. In fact, it was making me highly annoyed. I didn't care for the idea of Brianna using Bud for any reason, much less to toy around with, and I didn't like the idea of the two sisters being cut out of the same sleazy cloth. Then again, I wasn't sure I believed everything Dixson was telling me. Something about the man bugged me. Actually, pretty much everything about him bugged me.

“What kind of relationship do you have with Brianna, Mr. Dixson?”

“I shot her portfolio three years ago, and it turned out great. She's a lot better subject than Hilde is, calmer, you know, more patient with what I want her to do. Hilde gets a little drunk in our sittings and quits too soon. Bri's a perfectionist and willing to do whatever it takes to get it right.”

“I see.” But I didn't see, and I had a hunch nudity was somehow involved in whatever it took to get it right. “Would you mind giving me a brief rundown of your whereabouts for the last two days, Mr. Dixson?”

The guy startled me by suddenly jumping up, rocketing his chair back against the wall. He glared at me, fists on his hips. Talk about a hair trigger. And I thought I was bad. “Hell, yes, I mind,” he said. “I don't like being accused of murdering a friend.”

Black stood up, too, all six three of him. Polite, I guess. Or maybe not, judging by the way he was clenching his jaw. He said, deadly calm, “The detective's not accusing you of anything, Dixson.”

Did I mention that Black was unnecessarily protective? And his cultured veneer was deceptive. Once I'd seen him so enraged that he'd nearly drowned somebody with his bare hands, and not so long ago, either. Of course, that somebody had been trying to kill us both, but that's beside the point. I can take care of myself. He knows that; he just forgets sometimes.

I was serene. I kept my seat. “Sit down, Dixson, and don't do something stupid.”

Dixson tried to stare me down, but didn't get far with that, so he decided to sit. Black remained standing so he could look imposing, which he accomplished admirably. I took notes as if nothing had almost happened.

“All right. Is there anything you'd like for me to know, Mr. Dixson? Something you feel might be helpful to my investigation?”

“I didn't do anything wrong. I wouldn't touch a hair on Hilde's head.” A small sob escaped him, but he stifled the emotion, looking embarrassed by the show of vulnerability. It looked fake, too, so he tried something else. “For God's sake, I loved her like a sister, I loved her face, her smile, her laugh, everything about her. I would never in my life ever think of hurting her.”

Now he sounded like he was rehearsing a lame
Bold and the Beautiful
soap script, but I nodded as if his protestation had come off legit. “All right. Who do you think might have?”

“Might have what?”

I looked at him to see if he was kidding me. He wasn't, so I filled in the blanks. “Might have killed her.”

“I think Brianna might have.”

Black said, “That's absurd.”

“Is it, Dr. Black? Maybe you'd change your mind if you knew them better.”

These guys just didn't know how to be civil. “Where were you yesterday, Mr. Dixson?”

“Right here most of the day, working. I dropped in out at Cedar Bend part of the afternoon, too, just to see how things were going. Three to four, or so, I guess it was.”

“Would you mind giving me a list of witnesses who might be able to verify your presence there, sir?”

“The pageant coordinator can, for one. Patricia Cardamon, I think she said her name was. She spoke to me at length about where and how she wanted me to shoot the runway. Ask her, if you don't believe me.”

“Anybody else?”

“Some of the contestants and carpenters probably saw me speaking with her, but I don't know their names. And several tourist groups came in yesterday for portraits, but I can't tell you their names, either. They paid in cash, so I don't have a record.”

“What about last night and the night before?”

“I was here both nights. That's when I process film in my darkroom.”

“You did that all night on both nights?”

“Until I went to bed. I live upstairs over my studio.”

“Alone?”

“Yes. I live alone.”

“Okay, thank you, Mr. Dixson, I guess that'll do it for now. I might have more questions for you later.”

“Any time, Detective. I have nothing to hide.” He glanced at Black, who still didn't look particularly happy. “I apologize for getting angry and yelling at you. I guess I'm still a bit stunned by all this. That's the truth, I swear it.”

“That's perfectly understandable, Mr. Dixson. No offense taken. You're not the first person who's been offended when I questioned them.” I smiled so he'd believe it and shot a significant look at Black, so he'd remember that he'd been pretty irked by some questions I asked him once upon a time.

Outside, Black and I stopped for a moment and allowed our eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight. Dixson definitely kept his studio a little on the dark side. Black slid on his shades. I squinted up at him. “If you can't behave, I'm not bringing you along next time.”