Ridley Pearson - Killer Weekend

“I like him, too,” Liz said. “Very much. He saved my life, you know?”

Fiona leaned away, looking shocked.

“Years ago, but believe me, you don’t forget something like that. A person like Walt. Not ever.”

“He wanted these photos to scare you into calling off your talk. I know that much. Maybe he’s trying to save you a second time.”

Fiona couldn’t see her eyes through the dark glasses, but she imagined them as scared.

“And he’ll pay for it,” came the low voice of Adam Dryer.

Liz Shaler jumped and her glasses wiggled down her nose.

Dryer snatched the packet of photos with an arm like a frog’s tongue. Fiona hadn’t seen him coming. He leafed through the photos and then pocketed them. “The sheriff was on notice not to show you these, Your Honor.”

“It wasn’t Walt!” Fiona protested. “It was me.”

“And I can’t see through that?” Dryer said, stripping the glasses off his face and drilling a look into her. “You tell him he lost his Get Out of Jail card with me.”

“Leave the photos where they were,” Liz Shaler said vehemently, “and leave us alone. Fiona’s my guest, which is more than I can say about the rest of you.”

A s the conference adjourned for lunch, Walt caught Danny Cutter outside a break-out room. Showing no sign of being ill at ease, Danny agreed to speak with him and the two headed down into the subterranean reaches of the hotel.

The lodge’s private bowling alleys dated back to the hotel’s construction in the 1930s and Averell Harriman’s vision of grandeur. The two lanes stood empty at 12:30 P.M. on a Saturday. The alleys had been a playground for Gable, Stanwyck, Cooper, and Hemingway. Walt could almost smell the Cuban cigars and the bourbon on the rocks mingling with Chanel No. 5. Never renovated through the subsequent decades, the lanes had nonetheless been well maintained, while allowing the history to show. Danny and Walt sat across a linoleum-topped table rimmed with cigarette scars.

If this table could talk, Walt thought.

He asked the attendant to give them a few minutes, and the young Swede took off without comment.

“You mind if I run this thing? Record our conversation?” Walt held an iPod in his hand, a small white brick plugged into its top. He placed the device on the table and tried to get comfortable in the chair.

“You do what you have to do,” Danny said.

“Tell me about Ailia Holms.”

“Yeah. Unbelievable. I thought that’s what this was about.”

“Because?”

Danny gave Walt a transparent look. “You’re here, aren’t you? If you didn’t know Allie and I had a thing going-this is before I went…away-you’d be the only one in this town.”

Danny Cutter’s good looks got in his way at a time like this. Walt couldn’t think of him as normal. A guy that good-looking and that rich.

“Is that past or present tense?” Walt asked. “The thing.”

Cutter adjusted himself in the chair. “We had a history. She wanted to update the files, as it turned out. Keep them current. But I discouraged that. Didn’t avoid it completely, but discouraged it.”

“Physically?”

“Meaning?”

“You don’t understand physically discouraging someone?”

“She can be…difficult…to say no to. Was…I guess I should say. Can’t get used to that.” He moved in the chair once more. Then he lowered his voice, despite the room being empty. “I slept with her the night of Paddy’s party. The cocktail party at his place. During the party. It just kind of happened.”

Walt had seen the two up on the balcony hallway. He maintained his poker face, but inside he was reeling. He’d not anticipated Danny’s candor. “That sounds like encouragement to me. I’m talking about discouragement.”

Danny’s eyes went distant, then focused and found Walt. “You’re talking about her arms, aren’t you? I bruised her, didn’t I? She was pissed at me for that. Steaming mad. Said if Stu saw any bruises…She was afraid of Stu. I gather the resentful-old-man thing is not entirely an act.”

“What bruises?” This was what Walt asked, but mentally he made a note to check on Stuart Holms’s jealousies.

“She came by the house. This is yesterday morning. We had words. Allie liked getting her way, and our ways were a little divergent. I took it a little too far. What can I say? Shit happens. She liked to play the sex card, and sometimes, quite frankly, it got a little old. Scratch my itch and I’ll do you favors. But I didn’t want any favors.” He paused and rubbed the corner of his lips with his knuckle. “Rehab wasn’t totally lost on me.”

“Who doesn’t want the favors of a woman like Ailia Holms?” Walt asked.

“A man who’s had Ailia Holms,” Danny answered. “It wasn’t those kind of favors. It was money stuff. I didn’t want her help, that’s all.”

Walt said nothing.

“The really strange thing?” Danny asked rhetorically. “I was attacked by a cougar the day before yesterday. Did you hear about that?” He studied Walt. “I’m sure you did. Thing could have taken me down, taken me out, and instead it turns around and leaves me alone. Just like that. Gets you to thinking, I’ll tell you what. You kidding me? You know what I decided? I want to be useful. To make my life useful. To someone, something, other than me. And I want to get there on my own. Break out the frickin’ violins-I can see it in your face-but I’m serious, Sheriff.” He scratched his lips again. “And now Allie out Adam’s Gulch last night. A cougar. Right? Maybe the same cougar. How bizarre is that?”

“It’s plenty bizarre,” Walt said flatly. He noted that Danny Cutter had put Ailia’s attack as night. Not even Royal McClure had done so. He struggled with seeing Danny Cutter as guilty. He didn’t want to believe it.

“So, when was the last time you saw her?” Walt probed.

“And that’s another thing,” Danny said, not answering directly. “Who goes on a run twice in the same day? Are you buying that? That’s not Allie. That’s not right.”

“The last time you saw her?”

“Yesterday afternoon. I had a meeting with Stu-a business thing. Allie stopped by.” He paused. “I’ve got to tell you: I didn’t love it-her stopping by. And Stu was weird about it. They had it planned-frickin’ choreographed-and I was the odd man out. And I hate that.”

Walt searched the man’s face and decided he was telling the truth.

“I don’t know how much of this is relevant, Sheriff, but you’re probably going to hear it anyway… Stu agreed to invest some serious money in a thing I’ve got going. I’ve got to tell you: That surprised me in the first place. And then he drops this bomb on me that the deal comes with strings attached. The strings were Allie: I take her on as my partner or forget the investment.”

“And you didn’t like that because…?”

“Because of the strings. Whether you or anyone else believes it, I’m serious about changing my act. But the thing is: Stu must have known about us. What kind of husband sets up his wife like that? What kind of fool sense does that make?”

Walt made notes, wondering at the interconnections and the involvement of the husband. “Maybe later today, maybe Monday, I’ll get the preliminary autopsy report. We’ll know if it was an accident or not.”

“Since when is a cougar attack not an accident?”

“I’ve got to ask for your passport, Danny.”

“What?” The man looked shell-shocked.

“Everything we’ve discussed here is confidential. I hear it come from someplace else, I’m coming after you, and let me remind you, this conversation was recorded with your consent.”