Most Wanted (9 page)

When Melanie and Randall both moved toward the door, Nell said, “I meant just you, Miss Vargas.”

“Detective Walker is part of this investigation, too.”

“No problem,” Randall said mildly. “I’ll take a load off, rest my feet for a few minutes.” He folded his tall frame into an orange plastic chair in the corner of the room.

“Don’t you talk to her while I’m gone!” Nell tossed over her shoulder as they left.

MELANIE LED NELL BENSON TO A SPARTAN WAITING area she’d noticed on her way in. Eight orange plastic chairs stood along a wall facing a noisy elevator bank, next to two enormous snack and soda machines. The chairs were empty. Melanie motioned Nell to sit down.

“Can I get you a soda, Mrs. Benson?”

“That would be great. I haven’t had anything to eat or drink all day.”

“Come to think of it, neither have I.” Melanie looked at her watch. She would’ve guessed it was still morning, but it was past four o’clock already. She didn’t have much change, but luckily the machines took dollar bills. She got two Diet Cokes and two Drake’s Coffee Cakes.

“Sorry, this is the best I could do,” she said.

“No need to apologize,” Nell said. “I love these things. Gives me an excuse to eat them.”

Nell ripped open the cellophane with her teeth and broke a piece off one of the coffee cakes. Melanie sat down and watched her devour it, brushing away the crumbs that fell on her expensive suit. Chanel. She recognized it by the intertwined
C
s on the buttons. Those things cost a mint.
Qué lástima
, because Melanie would have liked to own one herself. Eating at such a time seemed bizarre to her. She’d barely known Jed Benson, her daughter wasn’t lying maimed in a hospital bed, yet she didn’t feel hungry in the least. Then again, she should give the poor widow a break. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. People reacted to grief in different ways.

“Mrs. Benson, I understand your reluctance to let us speak to your daughter. I’m a mother, too. Your first instinct is to protect your child. But there’s a lot more to fear from this killer’s remaining at large than from our talking to Amanda.”

“Are you going to eat that?”

“No. Please.” She handed Nell the second coffee cake, then popped open the Diet Coke and sipped at it. The bitterly cold liquid set a vein in her temple to pounding. “As I was saying—”

“I heard you the first time. Look, Miss Vargas, I’m going to be completely frank with you. What I’m about to say is highly personal.” Nell glanced around to make sure they were alone, then leaned toward Melanie, lowering her voice. “My daughter is a very fragile girl, Miss Vargas. Please understand. I can’t have her interviewed. Before I could let you speak to her, I’d need to consult her psychiatrist.”

“What exactly is the problem?”

“Amanda is very troubled. Drugs, bulimia—you name it. I placed her in an inpatient program at Wellmead. You know, up in Connecticut. It’s a lovely facility. Girls from some very prominent families go there. It’s almost like a summer camp, really. But Jed went and signed her out! He was such an indulgent father. He refused to accept that her problems were serious. I just keep thinking, if only he hadn’t done that! She’d still have her
fingers
, for Chrissakes!”

Nell started to cry, sniffling vigorously, intercepting her tears with her fingertips before they could smudge her mascara. Melanie found a tissue in her bag and handed it to Nell. Tears welled up in her own eyes as it hit her what Nell was going through. She knew what it was like when ugly, despicable violence invaded your home, sneaked up on you, changed your life forever. She’d experienced that as a child, and now here was Nell Benson experiencing it as a wife and mother. Her husband murdered, her daughter horribly maimed. God, what could be worse? Melanie had fantasized Steve’s violent death more than once lately, but she knew she didn’t mean it. If it really happened, how would she face it, how would she go on? And to think of her baby daughter harmed, some part of her precious, pudgy little body cut—she couldn’t imagine such grief. She could hardly stand it when Maya had the slightest cold. She reached out and stroked Nell’s shoulder, overwhelmed by sympathy. Almost instinctively Nell shrugged off Melanie’s hand.

“I’m fine, really,” Nell said. She struggled to regain her composure, clearing her throat and sitting up straighter.

Stung, Melanie pulled her hand away. This woman was one tough customer. She obviously did not like to be touched.

“Take your time,” Melanie said, in a cooler tone.

“Okay. I’m better.” Nell forced a smile.

Melanie was starting to lose patience. Every minute she wasted with Nell was another minute Slice was on the street.

“Thank you for telling me about Amanda, Mrs. Benson. I completely understand your concern, but I still have to talk to her. She’s an eyewitness. There’s simply no way around it. I promise you, I’ll be very gentle.”

“Don’t you understand? My daughter may become suicidal after what she’s seen. Do you want that on your conscience?”

“Why would it be on
my
conscience? I didn’t kill your husband. I’m just trying to catch the man who did.” The attempt to manipulate her was obvious and upsetting. Melanie had to remind herself that Nell had just lost her husband and might not be thinking rationally.

“At the very least, I insist on having her psychiatrist present.”

“How long would that take?”

“I’m really not sure. He’s at Wellmead. I’d have to call and inquire.”

“It’s four-thirty now. I can postpone interviewing Amanda until later tonight to give you time to get the psychiatrist here.”

“I can’t commit to that. I have no reason to think he’s even available tonight.”

Melanie sighed and took a sip of her soda, buying a minute to think. Amanda was so groggy anyway that interviewing her right now probably wouldn’t be fruitful. Maybe it made sense to wait a few hours for Amanda’s psychiatrist to show up in order to win Nell’s cooperation. After all, the other alternative was forcing the girl into the grand jury. Even putting aside Melanie’s own qualms, it would look strange to the grand jurors to compel Amanda’s testimony. They’d wonder what was wrong, why Melanie couldn’t get Amanda to talk voluntarily. Come to think of it, she was wondering that herself.

“I could agree to wait until the morning, Mrs. Benson, on the condition that we proceed then whether or not the doctor is present. Oh, by the way, where were you last night when your husband was murdered?” The question just popped out.

“I was in East Hampton, having dinner with some girlfriends. I can give you their names if you’d care to check.”

Nell looked Melanie square in the eyes as she uttered this. Her gaze was so cool and casual that Melanie wondered if she’d been waiting for that question. She decided to call Nell’s bluff. She took a small notebook from her handbag and withdrew the tiny gold pen tucked into its spine.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Melanie said, handing them to Nell. But Nell looked untroubled as she carefully wrote down several names in a girlish script.

“I’m giving you their telephone numbers as well. Feel free to call. They’ll be happy to answer any questions about me. These are my Hamptons chums. We’ve been summering together for years. We have dinner together every Monday night.”

“Without your husbands?”

“Of course. The wives and children spend the summers out there. The men are generally in the city during the week, doing whatever it is they do.” Nell’s condescending glance underlined the social chasm between them.

“Of course,” Melanie said. She took back her notebook and looked at the names. She’d call each one of them, but she felt certain the story would check out one way or the other. Her imagination was working overtime. Nell Benson was surely completely innocent in her husband’s murder. And if she wasn’t…well, she’d be smart enough to manufacture an airtight alibi.

Back in the room, under Nell’s watchful eye, Melanie told Randall that the interview would have to wait until later. She studied Amanda Benson’s face as Randall folded the newspaper he’d been reading and stood up. The girl was pale as snow, her eyes tightly closed now. She lay so listless that she barely seemed to breathe. How much could she do for them in this condition anyway? Melanie felt desperately sad for her. She could predict how it would go for Amanda—the nightmares, the flashbacks, the debilitating fear following her everywhere for years to come. Guilt-stricken, Melanie chided herself for making such an issue with Nell Benson about interviewing Amanda. Shouldn’t she, of all people, have a little more sensitivity?

A FEW MINUTES LATER, WHEN THEY WERE ALONE in the elevator, Randall said, “I don’t get it. Why are we backing off?”

“It would look pretty damn weird to throw the maimed daughter in the grand jury under subpoena, don’t you think?” Melanie’s tone was defensive. Despite her sympathy, she wasn’t convinced she’d made the right choice for the investigation. “I’m giving Nell Benson a chance to cooperate voluntarily. She says Amanda has psychological problems. She wants her psychiatrist there when we interview her. She’s got a point, when you consider what Amanda’s been through.”

“Say we do like she asks. You really think she’ll cooperate once the shrink gets here?” Randall asked.

“You don’t?” His dubious look answered the question. “You get a weird vibe from her, too, huh?”

“I know stonewalling when I see it,” he said.

“You think she could possibly be involved in her husband’s murder?”

“Is it possible? Normally I’d say hell yeah. I been on the job a long time. Find a body shot dead in a ditch, the first thing I do is check the spouse’s gun. Nine times out of ten, it still reeks of powder. But here we got reliable third-party information that some serious players are involved. Even if the wife would normally be a suspect, I don’t see Nell Benson associating with gangsta types, do you?”

“Not hardly,” Melanie agreed.

“Then again, she hinks me up big-time.”

“Yeah, me, too, but could that be because she comes off as a rich, snotty bitch? I don’t want to be influenced by personal animosity.”

Randall raised a skeptical eyebrow. He was one to trust his own gut.

“Okay, then,” Melanie continued, “maybe Nell’s genuinely trying to protect her daughter. I mean, come on. The girl just got her fingers cut off by a psycho killer and watched her father get tortured to death. Put yourself in the place of a parent seeing a child suffer like that.”

“Hadn’t thought of it that way,” Randall said, a catch in his voice. “Maybe you’re right.”

The elevator reached the lobby. As the doors opened, she read in Randall’s face a lot of years of watching a child suffer.

“How old are you, Randall?” she asked as they stepped off the elevator and headed for the exit.

“Me? Forty-seven. But that’s cop years. Twice as long as regular-people years, so really I’m ninety-four.” He chuckled at himself, then turned serious. “But why do you ask, dear?”

“I don’t know. Something in your face just now. You look like you’ve seen a lot.”

He smiled wearily. “That I have. Including plenty of things I’d rather forget.”

She wouldn’t ask him directly about his son’s overdose death. She didn’t feel right about that. He might be upset that Dan had told her.

“The job must take its toll,” she said instead, as they emerged onto the street. “How long until you retire?”

“Soon, very soon. And then you won’t be seeing me around here no more. I’m gonna take my pension and my savings, buy a little shack somewhere with a stream out back. Somewhere warm, good for my wife’s health. I’ll catch a fish for dinner every night, and she’ll cook it up just right.”

“Sounds nice. Too quiet for me, but nice.”

“Aw, you should give quiet a try. Good for the soul. Anybody looking in
your
eyes can see you need it as much as me.”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t, so taken aback was she that he saw through her like that.

“Need a lift?” she asked after a silence. “I have an appointment at Benson’s law firm in twenty minutes, but I could drop you somewhere on the way.”

“No thanks. I’m parked around the corner.”

“Okay. Catch up with you later, then.”

“Yup. You take care, child.”

Melanie got into her car, turned on the engine, and pulled out into the stream of traffic. Because their conversation had taken a personal turn, Randall hadn’t questioned her further about her decision to back off on interviewing Amanda Benson. But, thinking about how little information she’d gotten from this visit, she questioned herself.

PRESTIGIOUS NEW YORK CITY LAW FIRMS, RATHER than bustling with commerce, tend to be hushed and reverent places. The attorneys who work in them neither remove their suit jackets nor raise their voices. And they prefer to think of their profession as sublime and intellectual, rather than the hard-nosed business it really is.

Melanie recalled this attitude the moment she stepped off the elevator into the tasteful thirty-second-floor reception area of Reed, Reed and Watson. She’d spent two years after her judicial clerkship toiling in the silent law library of just such a firm, researching the fine points of reinsurance law and the Uniform Commercial Code. Occasionally the partners she worked for took her to lunch at some elegant old establishment. They all shared an uncanny ability to make restrained, polite conversation while revealing nothing whatsoever about themselves or their opinions. She never knew whether they liked her or merely tolerated her, or whether she had the slightest chance of making partner if she stayed for the requisite eight or ten years. The arctic chill of the place sent her fleeing the second she landed a prosecutor job.

As she approached the prim receptionist seated behind an imposing cherrywood desk, she understood that Reed, Reed and Watson was exactly like her old law firm. Which meant that it was better defended against outsiders than an underground bunker. She could be certain of getting the runaround. Politely, of course.

“Yes? Have you an appointment, miss?” the receptionist asked in a plummy English accent. She was of indeterminate age, wearing a high-necked silk blouse fastened with a cameo and half-rim glasses she peered over disdainfully. Once upon a time, Melanie might have felt intimidated. But now she had the power of the federal government behind her.