Sleight of Hand - By Phillip Margolin Page 0,60
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.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Frank Santoro met Gloria when she was working as a dispatcher. She understood his hours and never got on him about the time he spent on the job. Frank adored Gloria, and he appreciated how lucky he was to have someone who understood the demands of police work. His first marriage had gone on the rocks because of the time Frank spent on his cases and the shitty mood he could be in after a shift dealing with the dregs of society.
Dana liked Gloria as soon as the heavyset brunette opened the door and flashed a big, warm grin at her. By the time Frank pulled into his driveway, the two women were chatting away over coffee in the living room. Frank knew they had been talking about him when the women worked to stop smiling as he walked in carrying a briefcase.
“Don’t believe a word she says,” Frank told Dana.
“Who says we were talking about you?” Gloria said. “You men always want to be the center of attention.”
Frank kissed Gloria on the cheek, then told her that he and Dana were going downstairs to review surveillance tapes. Gloria handed Dana a thermos filled with coffee.
“If you want something to eat, give a holler,” she said as Dana and her husband vanished down the steps to the basement.
“Why am I here, Frank?” Dana asked as Frank pulled a DVD out of his briefcase and