The Match (Wilde, #2)(68)

“What connects them?” Wilde asked.

“As far as we know? Not a damn thing, except that both were shot in the head three times with the same gun.”

“Their work didn’t overlap?”

“Not as far as anyone can tell. McAndrews was a retired cop from Connecticut. Frole worked in the Trenton FBI forensic office. So far, the only anomaly is, well, you.”

Hester asked the next question in her most lawyerly tone. “Do they have anything linking my client with either Henry McAndrews or Katherine Frole?”

“You mean besides the fact that he broke into McAndrews’s house and found the body?”

Hester put her hand to her chest and faked a gasp. “How do they know that, Oren?”

He said nothing.

“Do they have his fingerprints? Do they have witnesses? What evidence do they have that my client—?”

“Can we drop this, please?” Oren asked. “Two people have been murdered.”

Hester was about to counter, but Wilde put a hand on her arm. The pissing contest between the two of them was becoming a distraction. He wanted to move this forward.

“What about Peter Bennett?” Wilde asked.

“Ah,” Oren said. “That’s the other reason why I wanted to see you.”

“How’s that?” Hester asked.

Oren flicked his gaze in her direction. They made eye contact and for a few moments, it was just the two of them. Wilde could feel it. He almost wanted to leave the room. These two had found love and now there were fissures, and while they were all dealing with bigger issues right now, Wilde still wanted to make that all right.

Still holding Hester’s gaze, Oren said, “I promised Wilde last night that I would look into Peter Bennett.”

Hester nodded slowly. “Go on then,” she said, her voice softer. “Tell us.”

Oren blinked and turned his attention to Wilde. “From what you told me, Peter Bennett naturally became a person of interest in Henry McAndrews’s murder. I reported what you said to the lead homicide detective on the case, a guy named Timothy Best. By the way, I don’t think Best had anything to do with what happened to you last night. Hartford PD is not handling the case, and he’s state. McAndrews’s murder was out of their jurisdiction, plus conflict of interest.”

Wilde nodded. He didn’t care about any of that right now. “And Peter Bennett?”

“I was helping him dig into Peter Bennett, but when the ballistics came in with the match to Katherine Frole, the FBI stepped in big-time. So last night before we talked, only you were looking for Peter Bennett. Now so are the Federal Bureau of Investigation and Connecticut State’s top law enforcement agency.”

“Have they found anything yet?” Wilde asked.

“Yeah, a lot.”

Hester snapped again. “Get to it already.”

Oren put on his reading glasses and took out a small notebook. “You mentioned Peter Bennett’s last Instagram photo at Adiona Cliffs.”

“Yes.”

Oren read in a monotone: “Three days before the photograph was taken, according to flight records and passport control, Peter Bennett flew from Newark Airport to French Polynesia. He stayed at a small hotel near the Adiona Cliffs for two nights. On the morning that photograph was taken, he gave his backpack and clothes to a hotel housekeeper and told her that they were hers. He paid his hotel bill, checked out of the hotel, and hired a taxi to take him to the base of the mountain. The taxi driver saw your cousin walk up the path toward the top of the cliffs.”

Oren snapped his notebook shut. “And that’s it.”

“What do you mean, that’s it?” Hester asked.

“No one has seen Peter Bennett since. There has been no sighting as far as we are aware. There is no indication that he ever came back down that path. His passport has not been used. His credit cards and ATM have not been used. He hasn’t been on any flight manifest or border-cross list.”

“Is there a working theory?” Wilde asked.

“In terms of Peter Bennett? The FBI believes that he did indeed commit suicide.”

“Or he faked it,” Hester said.

“The FBI doesn’t think so,” Oren said.

“Why not?” Hester asked.

“Besides what I already listed? Two more things: One, Peter Bennett settled his estate before departing. We spoke to his financial guy, an advisor named Jeff Eydenberg at Bank of USA. Eydenberg wouldn’t talk at first because of confidentiality, but the feds rushed through a warrant. Once that was secured, he cooperated, in part because he was worried about his client too. According to Eydenberg, Peter Bennett came in on his own and split the estate between his two sisters. Right now, it’s all held in escrow because his divorce to Jenn Cassidy isn’t final. But this Jeff Eydenberg met with Peter Bennett in person. He said Peter looked down and depressed.”

Hester thought about that. “Still could be the act of a man who is faking a suicide.”

“Anything’s possible, I guess.”

“You said there were ‘two more things.’ What’s the second?”

Wilde answered that one. “No suicide note.”

Oren nodded. Hester looked confused.

“Hold up,” Hester said. “Why would no suicide note make you think it was suicide?”