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He stopped there at the threshold, turned, and met eyes with her. Said nothing, but also didn’t move. Time suspended.
“For what it’s worth, their relationship, Caroline and Vince, seemed more business than pleasure. My husband wondered aloud, more than once, if she wasn’t more mistress than girlfriend, if you know what I mean?”
“A call girl.”
“A paid companion. When they were together it felt different. That’s all. Like they shared a secret but not the kind of secret couples share. I can’t explain it.”
“I think you explained it very well,” he said. And he thanked her.
“I need you,” Boldt said, as he and Walt stood talking beneath Vince Wy
“It went that bad?” Walt asked. “You want to double-team him?”
“Dodge ball. There’s a lawyer named Evers. Real piece of work. Wy
“Does he know about Gale?”
“Not that I could tell, but he’s no one to play poker with.”
“Did he blame Gale outright?”
“His lawyer wouldn’t let him go that far, but he would have if he’d been left on his own. Gale’s identity as your John Doe is going to leak. If we’re going to go after Wy
“How do you want to handle it?” Walt didn’t want to come off as naïve, but also wanted to show the man respect.
Boldt said, “They were very well rehearsed for Vetta. Not so sure that would prove to be the case with Gale. I’d hint at the evidence-ask to see his vehicles, a subscription to the local paper, hint at hairs and fibers evidence and work to confirm the last time the two met.”
“Get him back on his heels.”
“And then maybe I’ll interrupt and revisit Vetta. A guy like this, he’s a multi-tasker and his work is a constant pressure cooker. We’re never going to win anything close to a confession, but maybe he shows us a few cracks we can exploit later.”
“He agreed to meet you in the first place because he doesn’t want the publicity. That’s in our favor. I take it we have hairs and fibers from the Vetta scene?”
“I like the way you think,” Boldt said. “Feel free to play that if you need it.” Boldt slapped him on the back.
Wy
Harris Evers was balding and was one of those city people who didn’t look comfortable when dressing down for the role of country folk. His jeans carried creases, his bare ankles were the color of copy paper, and his black leather belt with its industrial clasp was intended for a pair of fancy trousers.
“Sheriff?” Evers said.
“Wondered if I might have a few words with your client.”
“Concerning?”
“You might call it a follow-up on the shots fired the other night.”
“I think not,” Evers said.
“You are aware your client, Mr. Wy
Walt continued. “That individual is dead. Yesterday, Martel Gale was discovered on the side of Highway Seventy-five.”
“Now wait a goddamned minute!” Wy
“And you threatened to kill him.”
“I… oh, damn… That was just bull. That was just me being me.”
“You said it to my face,” Walt reminded.
Evers tensed, eyes darting. “How about we all sit down a minute?”
“How about our friends here go back to wherever they came from?” Wy
“We can go the formal route,” Walt said, “but I can’t promise that Sports Center and Pardon the Interruption won’t hear a certain agent is under investigation.”
Wy
“Vince!” Evers waved everyone into the living room. They sat down around an elephant saddle coffee table beneath a Dale Chihuly chandelier in a living room with a full view of the ski mountain a mile away.
Walt could think of a dozen ways to begin the questioning, but he heeded Boldt’s advice about working the evidence, wandering into territory that wasn’t entirely familiar to him and hoping Boldt would come to his rescue if necessary.
“How many baseball bats do you own, Mr. Wy
“What?”
“Baseball bats.”
“What kind of a question is that?”
“Pretty simple one. Some people collect electric guitars,” Walt said. “Wine. Demi Moore has a three-story Victorian house in Hailey filled with nothing but dolls. A couple hundred dolls. Has a house-sitter that lives there and takes care of her doll collection. I’m thinking a guy like you, in your position, you probably own more than your fair share of baseball bats. Am I wrong?”
Wy
“Would that be here, in Idaho? Or Los Angeles?”
“Both. It’s divided between my houses and my office.”
“Sheriff,” said Evers, “this is pertinent because…? Are we talking murder weapon?”
Walt ignored him. “How many bats?”
“Maybe a dozen here.”
“And how about vehicles? How many registered or otherwise vehicles do you own here in Idaho?”
Wy
“You have access to that information,” Evers said. “My client doesn’t have to answer that. Look it up.”
“Three,” Walt said, “not including the four motorcycles. A Porsche, a vintage Roadster, and a Ford F-one hundred.”
“So why ask?” Wy
“Sheriff Fleming and I share interests in the Vetta case, which is open and ongoing,” Boldt said.
“When was the last time you or your employees drove the F-one hundred?” Boldt asked Wy
“My pickup? No clue. No idea. I don’t drive it all that much. Once a week, maybe. My employees have their own trucks. They don’t drive mine.”
“Vince,” Evers said. “You don’t answer unless I say so.” He understood the mistake Wy
“The last time you drove it?” Walt said.
“No, Vince. That’s enough about the truck,” Evers said.
“What?” Wy
“Not since.”
“Not since.”
“Have you had any tire work done to the truck in the interim period?”
“Jesus!” Wy
“You will not answer that!” Evers advised.
Wy
“We’re happy to cooperate, Sheriff,” the attorney said. “But if you seek specifics like this, I will advise Vince not to answer until he and I can study and discuss his alternatives.”
Walt noticed that Boldt sat back in his chair, and took it as a sign he was trying to look comfortable, trying to establish they would be there a while, though Walt now doubted it.
“You put the blame for Vetta onto Gale,” Boldt said.
“I think it makes sense, yes,” Wy
“So who killed Gale?” Boldt asked.
“How the fuck should I know?”
“After the incident the other night, your discharge of the handgun, did you have any contact with Martel Gale? And I should warn you, we have records of his communications.”
Wy
“My client won’t answer that,” Evers said. “Gentlemen, I need time with my client. If you want to continue this-”
“I would suggest a trip down to my offices,” Walt said. “Should we say, one hour?”