The Match (Wilde, #2)(73)

There was danger everywhere. But that didn’t mean Chris would let a killer walk free.

He would have to handle it himself.

The question was, How?

*



After Betz and Kissell left and they were alone again in her law office, Hester said, “What the hell, Wilde?”

Wilde said nothing. He looked up the number on his phone and hit the call button.

“Your father?”

Wilde put the phone to his ear and heard the ring.

“Peter Bennett is related to you on your mother’s side, right?”

Wilde nodded. The phone still rang. No one answered.

“So how does your father fit into this?”

Wilde hung up. “No one is answering at his place of business.”

“Whose place of business?”

“My father’s. Daniel Carter’s. DC Dream House Construction.”

“Do you have his mobile?”

“No.”

“His home?”

Wilde shook his head. “I’ll ask Rola to track him down.”

“Any clue why the feds would be interested in him?”

“None.”

“Or why they’d find your visit to him suspicious?”

“Only one possibility,” Wilde said.

“And that is?”

“Daniel Carter lied to me.”

“About?”

Wilde had no idea. He called Rola and filled her in. In his mind’s eye, Wilde could see young Rola, the serious student, taking notes in that room she shared with three other rotating foster girls. Rola was detail-oriented and industrious and dogged. It was what made her such a great investigator. You wanted Rola in your corner.

When he finished, she said, “Holy shit, Wilde.”

“I know.”

“I got someone in Vegas. I’ll report back what I find.”

Wilde hung up. Hester had moved to the window. She stared out at the awe-inspiring view of the Manhattan skyline. “Two people murdered,” she said.

“I know.”

“The FBI seemed convinced that your cousin is dead too,” Hester said. She turned away from the window. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“Your gut isn’t telling you anything?”

“I never go by my gut,” Wilde said.

“Not even in the woods?”

“That’s survival instinct. That’s climbing out of the primordial muck and learning to stay alive. That, yes, I listen to. But if you are deluded and narcissistic enough to believe you should obey your gut rather than looking coldly at the facts, that’s your bias, not your gut.”

“Interesting.”

“And right now, like you said with Sherlock, we don’t know enough to theorize.”

“Agree, but we really can’t investigate the murders. The FBI will be digging into these cases with everything they have. But right now, only you and I know that Marnie Cassidy lied about what Peter Bennett did to her. That gives us one distinct advantage.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“You up for rocking the boat?”

“I am. How do we start?”

Hester was already heading to the door. “We tell Jenn what her sister did.”





Chapter

Thirty



The receptionist at Sky buzzed up to the condo where Jenn Cassidy was staying. “Hester Crimstein is here to see you.” The receptionist looked over at Wilde. “And your name?”

“Wilde.”

“And a Mr. Wilde too.”

The receptionist listened for a moment. She turned away as though to be discreet. Hester could see how this was going. She yelled out loud enough for Jenn to hear, “You’ll want to see us before this story breaks, believe me.”

The receptionist stiffened. A moment later, she hung up and said, “The elevator will bring you up to Miss Cassidy’s home. Enjoy your visit.”

The elevator door opened. The button for the second floor was already lit. When the door slid open, Jenn Cassidy, dressed in Versace, was waiting by the door to apartment two. She did not look happy to see Hester again. Hester didn’t care.

Jenn squinted at Wilde. “How do I know you? Wait. You’re that Tarzan kid. I saw a documentary on you a few years ago.”

He stuck out his hand. “My name is Wilde.”

She shook it, albeit reluctantly. “Look,” Jenn said, blocking access to her apartment and meeting Hester’s gaze, “I don’t know what you want, but I think we said everything last time.”

“We didn’t,” Hester said.

Jenn motioned toward Wilde. “And he’s here because…”

“Wilde is related to Peter.”

“My Peter?”

“Well, he’s not yours anymore, is he? That’s why we’re here, in fact.”

“I don’t understand.”

Wilde took that one. “Marnie lied. Peter never attacked her.”

Jenn smiled at that. Actually smiled. “That’s not possible.”

“I spoke to her,” Wilde said. “She admitted it.”

The smile started to falter. “Marnie told you—”