Killer Weekend

Walt approached the back of the Land Cruiser with a quickened pulse. Aanestad was getting on his nerves; and Anderson ’s failure to find a speck of blood evidence was begi

Tilly pointed into the back of the vehicle, where a small white arrow made of removable tape had been fixed to the caramel-colored carpeting.

Walt’s eyes followed the white arrow, and at first he didn’t see anything. Then he moved slightly to his left in order to catch the light better.

Aanestad called out, “That’s Patrick’s car. This has nothing to do with Da

At the tip of the white arrow lay a single, clear contact lens.

Twenty

W alt stood to the side and down the hallway from the Picabo Street Room, out of the way of the conference guests departing a talk given by the secretary of the treasury. Having Doug Aanestad by his side won Patrick Cutter’s attention. The eye communication was between attorney and client, with only a passing glance at Walt.

Cutter dealt with a few enthusiastic guests, waited to make sure the secretary was properly escorted to the next function, and then lingered long enough to have the hallway to themselves for a moment.

“Is that room clear?” Walt asked as he shook hands with Cutter.

“Yes, certainly.” Patrick led them into the room and Walt shut the door. Capable of holding a hundred or more, the conference room smelled of warm bodies and coffee. Two food service perso

“As you know,” the attorney told his client, “the sheriff and his men searched your residence this afternoon.” He focused intently on Cutter’s eyes, attempting to communicate the severity of the situation. “He would like to ask you some questions.”

“Of course,” Cutter blurted out, looking alarmed.

“I advise you, Patrick, to check with me before answering. Do we understand each other? Each and every question, you will check with me before answering. Given this condition, I’m allowing this conversation to take place. But I must have your understanding on this: The sheriff wanted to run a recording device-I have prohibited that; he wanted to see you alone, by himself, also forbidden; he claims to have reason to suspect you in a possible murder investigation, Patrick. That’s right: murder.”

“Da

“He’ll get to that,” Aanestad said. “But there’s a good example: I don’t want you speaking until I’ve nodded my okay. And I want you to think clearly about your answers before giving them.”

Cutter nodded.

Walt began by asking some of the same general questions he had asked Da

“You directed Dick O’Brien to pass along a DVD to me from your home security cameras-”

“Wait just a minute!” Aanestad conferred with Cutter in the corner by a table with a black skirt piled with copies of a book written by the treasury secretary. They returned and both men sat down facing Walt.

“I did,” said Cutter.

“Why would you do that? Implicate your brother like that?”

Cutter checked with Aanestad, who nodded faintly. “It seemed the right thing to do. It’s the cover-up that gets you hanged, Sheriff. We all know that.”

“You could have destroyed it. Who would have known?”

He checked with Aanestad each and every time. “Same answer.”

“You could have warned your brother.”

“He’s an adult.”

“Who has driven which of your cars this weekend, between you and Da

“I drive the Caye

“What about the Land Cruiser?” Walt asked.

Aanestad shook his head, and Patrick Cutter, looking confused, raised his eyebrows at Walt. “I’m advised not to answer that,” he said.

Walt thought him either a very good actor, or someone who knew nothing of the possibility of Ailia Holms’s contact lens being found in his car.

“The keys?” Walt asked.

“Kept on a rack in the kitchen. All but the Caye

It was all wrong. Walt had expected him to be nervous and agitated. Aanestad sat smugly observing Walt’s reactions-Walt’s, not his client’s. Had some coaching gone on in the corner? Walt wondered. Was Cutter seasoned enough from his business dealings to bluff his way through this? It seemed impossible to Walt that Cutter, if guilty, could maintain such a calm facade.

“You were sleeping with Ailia Holms?”

Cutter tried to hold back any reaction, but he slowly crumbled. Feigned astonishment moved into feigned insult. Walt never took his eyes off the man, as the accusation worked through him like an acid. His weapon was patience. He waited, and the waiting was the man’s undoing.

“Nonsense!” Aanestad complained, trying to give Cutter a breath of air. “Where’d you get that? It’s garbage, Walt, and you know it. You should be ashamed, trying such a stunt.”

Walt had gotten it from a single look Dick O’Brien had given him out on the bridge when mentioning the competition between the brothers, but he wasn’t about to reveal his source. “Let your client deny it, counselor.”

Patrick’s eyes shone wetly as he glowered at Walt. At least a minute had passed. Maybe two. The air-conditioning wheezed from the ceiling. Again, a food service worker tried to enter the room from the far end. Again, Walt sent him packing.

Patrick said softly, “I’m upset over her loss, Sheriff. We were…close.”

“Of course you were,” Aanestad said. “You and Stu-”

“Shut up, Doug,” Cutter said.

“How long?” Walt asked.

“This conversation is over!” Aanestad a

“Doug!” Cutter chided. “If you can’t keep quiet, I’m going to ask you to leave the room.”

Aanestad’s face went scarlet, his eyes flashed darkly, and he sat back in his chair.

Patrick continued. “I had Dick share the security footage because if Da

“I’ll need you to account for your whereabouts last night, from nine P.M. to past midnight.”

Without pause, Cutter replied, “I was hosting a di

“The same for Da

Patrick answered only with a saddened face.

“We’re done here,” Aanestad repeated. This time, he won Patrick’s support.

Walt had what he wanted: Patrick had admitted involvement with Ailia Holms, just as O’Brien had inferred. The man could have easily hired her murder.

All three men stood.

Walt asked for Cutter’s passport, wi

“That’s less than an hour.”

“That’s your problem.”

“You are way off, if you think I had anything do to with Ailia’s death.”

“Physical evidence was found in the back of your Land Cruiser possibly co

“What evidence? That’s ridiculous. Allie and I used that car all the time. We’ve even-” Cutter stopped himself.

Walt said nothing. He felt sordid and tired.