Sleight of Hand: A Novel of Suspense (Dana Cutler) (16 page)

“You think I was set up by the police?”

“It’s possible.”

“But the key would have to have been put in the grave when Carrie was buried. I still had it when she disappeared.”

“The police took your keys when you were booked into the jail on the gun charge. If the person who killed Carrie planted the key, he could have gotten it from the property room and put the key in the grave. Or the key could have been dropped in the grave while the grave was being uncovered. The key is small. It would fit in a palm. You could let it fall in one section and cover it with dirt while the diggers were working on another section. ”

“But that means Detective Robb or Santoro might have killed Carrie.”

“Or anyone else who was at the grave site.”

“Robb and Santoro put me in isolation. Either one could have made sure I was put in a cell next to Lester.”

“Good thinking,” Benedict said. “I hope we’re wrong, but I’m going to have my investigators look into Robb’s and Santoro’s backgrounds to see if either one had a grudge against Carrie or was particularly close to her.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Dana Cutler decided that she couldn’t put off telling the detectives in charge of the Blair case about the Ottoman Scepter any longer, so she drove to Lee County to watch Horace Blair’s bail hearing, certain that one of them would be a witness. The courtroom was packed and the only seat Dana could find was a narrow space in the last row of the spectator section between a slovenly, obese man in a malodorous tracksuit and the bright-eyed assistant commonwealth attorney who had created the space by edging away from her foul-smelling benchmate. The young prosecutor was one of several who were in the courtroom to watch Rick Hamada in action.

When Dana finished wedging herself in place she shifted her attention to the front of the room, where a guard was escorting Horace Blair to the defense table. Charles Benedict walked over to his client, giving Dana her first chance to get a good look at Horace Blair’s lawyer. She studied him closely and could not shake the notion that he looked just like the man Dana had seen with Carrie Blair when Dana was working the Lars Jorgenson insurance case.

Dana had a copy of the photograph she’d taken of Carrie and the mystery man on her phone so she could show it to the detectives. She found it and compared the man with Carrie to Charles Benedict. There was no question in her mind that Carrie’s companion and Horace Blair’s attorney were the same person.

Why would Horace Blair’s lawyer and Horace Blair’s wife be together so early in the morning? There was one obvious answer, and Dana realized that she had more to talk about with the detectives than she had thought when she entered the courtroom.

Dana listened intently to Frank Santoro’s testimony. When the lawyers were through with him, Judge Gardner called a recess. Santoro spoke briefly with Hamada before heading up the aisle. Dana intercepted him at the courtroom door.

“Detective Santoro, my name is Dana Cutler. I’m a private investigator and I’d like to talk to you about the Blair case.”

Santoro remembered Carrie’s Internet search for information about the investigator. Then he remembered something he had read about Dana and he frowned.

“You write stories for that supermarket tabloid
Exposed
, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to interview you. I’m not writing a story. I have information about this case you should know. There’s no quid pro quo involved.”

“What kind of information?”

“Look, it’s complicated. Can we meet after court?”

Santoro hesitated.

“I was a cop before I went private, Detective. I’m not going to jack you around. You have my word.”

“Okay. There’s a coffee shop about two blocks from here, Fallon’s. I’ll meet you there when we break for lunch, and I’ll bring my partner.”

“See you then,” Dana said.

Dana was in a booth, sipping a cup of black coffee, when the detectives walked in.

“It’s an honor,” Stephanie Robb said as she and Santoro slid into the bench seat across from Dana.

Robb had just made detective when Dana butchered the bikers who gang-raped her. That act made Dana a hero to Robb, and to many other women in law enforcement.

Dana nodded but didn’t say anything. She hoped Robb was referring to the case involving President Farrington and not the incident with the bikers. She’d been insane when she killed the meth cooks, and she’d killed to survive. Fortunately, the waiter appeared, so Dana was able to change the subject.

“You told me that you have information about the Blair case,” Santoro said when the waiter left with their orders.

“I do, and it’s pretty weird. I don’t know what you’ll make of it, but I felt I had to tell you what I know.”

The detectives listened intently as Dana told them about her quest to find the Ottoman Scepter and her discovery that the assignment had been a hoax perpetrated by Carrie Blair. The waiter brought their food just before Dana finished her tale.

“Why do you think Carrie paid you and those actors all that money?” Robb asked when Dana finished.

“You think the prenup is the motive for the murder, right?”

Robb nodded.

“I think Carrie got me away from D.C. because she thought I had information that Horace Blair could use to void it.”

“What information?”

“Before I tell it to you I’d like you to answer a question for me.”

“Shoot.”

“Have you seen the prenup? Can you prove it exists?”

“We’re having trouble confirming its existence,” Santoro told her. “Horace’s lawyer won’t let us talk to him about it and Jack Pratt, his civil attorney, refuses to meet with us. But if you were in court during my testimony, you heard that we have an informant who will testify that Horace told him he killed Carrie because he didn’t want to pay her twenty million dollars when the prenup ended.”

“What were the conditions Carrie had to meet to get the money?” Dana asked.

“The informant says that Blair told him she would get the money if she didn’t divorce him or cheat on him during the first ten years of the marriage,” Santoro said.

“We don’t know if that clause is really in the prenup since we haven’t seen it,” Robb said, “but it makes sense.”

“What I know might blow a hole in your theory.”

Dana showed the photograph of Carrie and Benedict to the detectives.

“That’s Carrie Blair and Charles Benedict outside Benedict’s apartment shortly before seven a.m. on the day Carrie contacted me, pretending to be Margo Laurent.”

Wheels turned in Robb’s head as soon as she realized what the photo implied. “You think Benedict was fucking Carrie Blair?”

“I was in a car, taking pictures of an insurance cheat for United Insurance. I didn’t know who Carrie Blair or Charles Benedict were. But Blair went ballistic when she spotted me. She started screaming and she charged at my car, so I took off. Blair acted the way a person with a guilty conscience would act. It’s definitely the way I would act if I thought a PI had caught me cheating on my husband, especially if cheating on my husband was going to cost me twenty million dollars.

“I think Carrie Blair memorized my license plate and used it to figure out who I was. Later that day, she called Alice Forte, a lawyer I work for, and got my phone number. Then she called me, pretending to be Margo Laurent.

“Here’s your problem,” Dana concluded. “Horace Blair would have no reason to kill Carrie if he knew she’d violated the
prenup
.”

“Blair may not have known that his wife had something on the side,” Robb said. “If he didn’t know she was cheating, he’d still have a motive to kill her.”

“That’s true,” Dana said, “but the odds are good that a person with Horace’s resources
would
know that Carrie was having an affair.”

“That still doesn’t let Blair off the hook,” Robb countered. “Husbands kill cheating wives all the time. Maybe he’s just a jealous husband. But there’s something else that makes me think that Blair definitely didn’t know about his wife and Benedict.”

“What’s that?” Dana asked.

“If Benedict was having an affair with Horace’s wife, and Horace knew about it, why would he hire Benedict to defend him? Doesn’t that tell you that Horace didn’t know about the affair?”

“That’s a good point.” Dana shrugged. “Look, I’ve been pretty busy making up for lost time since I got back from my ‘quest,’ so I haven’t spent a lot of time thinking this through. I just thought I should tell you about the scepter and Benedict.”

Santoro looked at his watch. “Court is going to start in ten minutes. We’ve got to get back.”

The waiter brought the bill. Santoro took out his wallet, gave him cash, and laid his wallet next to himself on the seat.

“Thanks for lunch,” Dana said.

“Thanks for talking to us,” Santoro said.

The detectives left and Dana picked up her sandwich. She felt relieved that she had fulfilled her duty as a citizen and could put the Blair case behind her. The feeling lasted the length of time it took Frank Santoro to reenter Fallon’s and walk back to her booth. He reached across the bench on which he’d been sitting and picked up his wallet.

“I left this here so I’d have an excuse to come back,” Santoro said as he slipped the wallet into his back pocket. “I need to talk to you and I don’t want Steph to know. Is there someplace we can meet tonight?”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Dana had discovered Vinny’s while working undercover in narcotics for the D.C. police. Several things recommended it for a clandestine rendezvous. First, Vinny’s was in a rather disreputable section of the capital, making it highly unlikely that anyone Dana or Santoro knew would wander in. Second, the chef’s hamburgers and fries were outstanding.

Santoro showed up twenty minutes after Dana ordered. He spotted her through the haze created by the illegally smoked cigarettes that were part of the bar’s ambience.

“Sorry I’m late,” Santoro said. “Traffic.”

“Not a problem.” She pointed at her food. “Order yourself a burger and fries. You’ll thank me.”

“I can also use a beer. Court gave me a migraine.”

Dana signaled to the waitress, then pointed at her burger, fries, and beer.

“Did Gardner give Blair bail?” Dana asked.

“He’s going to rule in the morning.”

“So, why the secret meeting?” Dana asked.

“How much do you charge?”

“You want to hire me?”

“Maybe. Let’s see what you think when we’re done.”

Dana told Santoro her hourly rate.

“I can do that,” Santoro said, “but before I talk to you, I want your promise that you’ll keep what I say to yourself.”

“Okay.”

“I have doubts about the case against Blair.”

“Have you told your partner?”

“I’ve tried, but Steph is so certain Blair murdered his wife that she can’t hear what I’m saying. That’s why I need to have someone without any preconceived notions look at the case. Do you think you can do that?”

“I can try. So why do you have doubts about Blair’s guilt?” Dana asked just as the waitress placed Santoro’s beer in front of him. He took a long drink before answering.

“You heard the testimony, right?”

“Most of it.”

“Okay, well, first off, there are all these anonymous tips. The tip to the paper about the prenup was anonymous. The tip about Blair putting his wife’s body in the trunk of his car, anonymous. And why would a guy as smart as Blair let us look in the trunk if he knew the gun was still in there?

“Then there’s that key. How did it get in the grave? Benedict was right. Most people keep their house key on their key chain, so how does Blair’s house key get off the chain and into the grave?

“Finally, there’s our jailhouse informant, Barry Lester. I have a hard time believing Blair would give him the time of day, let alone confess to murder—
and
tell him where he buried the body.”

“Could Lester have killed Carrie?”

“No, he was in jail when Mrs. Blair was killed.”

“So how did he know where the grave was if Blair didn’t tell him?”

“Either the person who killed Carrie Blair told him or the killer had someone else tell him.”

“Have you checked to see who visited Lester since he’s been locked up?”

Santoro nodded. “The only visitors were Lester’s girlfriend and Arthur Jefferson, his attorney. Lester’s girlfriend is a stripper. Her stage name is Tiffany Starr—and that’s what she calls herself—but she was born Sharon Ross. She’s divorced, and her married name was Sharon Krantz.”

“Do you have phone numbers and addresses for Starr and
Jefferson
?”

“Yeah.”

Santoro pulled out his notebook and rattled off contact information for Tiffany Starr and Arthur Jefferson.

“Tell me a little about Barry Lester and his girlfriend,” Dana asked as soon as she’d stored the information in her phone.

“Starr has a record for kiting checks, and she embezzled from a company she worked for as a bookkeeper.”

“Let me guess. She needed the money to buy drugs?”

Santoro nodded. “Heroin and cocaine, mostly, but she’s used other stuff. She’s been in and out of rehab, usually as a condition of probation.”

“Got it. And Barry Lester?”

“Lester is a small-time punk with an aversion to work. He’s a high school dropout who’s supported himself with con games and petty, nonviolent crimes. The guy lives on the fringe. Occasionally he’ll work a low-paying job when he can get one, but he can’t say no to easy money. This last time he really fucked up. He drove the getaway car in a liquor-store robbery. No one was hurt, but his buddies cut deals. If he hadn’t agreed to rat out Blair he’d be looking at serious time.”

Santoro hesitated. Suddenly he looked nervous.

“There’s someone else I need you to look at.”

“Who?”

“Charles Benedict. This is the real reason I want to hire you. Horace Blair is incredibly rich and very well connected. We caught hell when we booked him on the gun charge. If I investigate Blair’s defense attorney and he discovers what I’m up to he’ll scream bloody murder and claim we’re harassing him. We’d risk having the case dismissed for prosecutorial misconduct.”

“You think Benedict might be involved in Carrie’s murder?”

“If he was Carrie’s lover he might have a reason to kill her.”

“That’s quite a leap.”

“What do you know about Benedict?”

“Nothing really.”

“I’ve always thought he was shady. You know who Nikolai Orlansky is, right?”

Dana nodded.

“A lot of Benedict’s clients are connected to Orlansky, and a few of his cases have ended in strange ways.”

“Such as?”

“Witnesses and evidence have disappeared, or a witness changes his story.”

“That’s not evidence that he killed Carrie Blair.”

“You’re right. But Blair and Benedict had a run-in shortly before she disappeared.”

Santoro told Dana about the Ross case.

“Now, here’s something I found out,” Santoro said. “Kyle Ross isn’t the only member of the Ross family Benedict represented. He was Sharon Ross’s attorney on two of her drug cases.”

“You think Benedict told Tiffany the location of the body?”

“It’s a possibility. And there’s something else. Benedict worked awfully hard to convince us to put Blair in isolation.”

“That’s something any defense attorney would do if he had an elderly, well-heeled client who would be dog meat in population.”

“That’s true. But . . .” Santoro shook his head. “I just have this feeling that something about this case is not right. I may be way off base, but I’d feel better if you told me that after you investigated.”

“Okay. I’ll take a shot at it.”

“How much do you need for a retainer?”

“Forget about the money. Carrie Blair paid me a bundle for a few days’ work. If her husband didn’t kill her, I owe it to Carrie to find out who did.”

“At least let me cover your expenses.”

“We can talk about that when I finish my investigation.”

“Okay. So, what do you think?”

“If Benedict had Tiffany Starr tell Lester where the body was buried, it would explain a lot. What’s got me puzzled is the key you found in the grave. How did it get there? If Horace Blair didn’t murder his wife but the key is Blair’s house key, the killer had to get it from . . . Blair. And I . . .”

Dana stopped in midsentence because Santoro’s mouth was open and it was clear he was not listening.

“What’s the matter?” Dana asked.

“Something has been bothering me ever since Steph conducted her experiment with the keys at Blair’s estate, and I just realized what it is.”

Santoro stood up. “I’m going to my office to get something. Here’s my address. I’ll call my wife and tell her you’re coming. She’ll put on some coffee. We’re going to have a long night.”