The Alibi Man

Chapter 48

“What the hell do you mean we have to call his attorney before we execute the search warrant?” Landry was incredulous at the suggestion. “That’s un-fucking-believable!”

“It’s a courtesy,” Dugan said, the way he might say, It’s ulcerative colitis.

“A courtesy?! Since when is courtesy our job?”

Dugan shot a glance at the three-piece suit standing beside his desk. Who the hell wore three-piece suits anymore? Landry thought.

“Assistant State’s Attorney Paulson here can fill you in,” Dugan said.

Landry glared at Paulson, a soft, doughy guy with pretentious little round glasses. “How many search warrants of murder suspects’ homes have you executed?”

“Well, I-”

“I’ll tell you how many,” Landry said. “None. Not one. So I’ll fill you in, Paulson. We don’t send out engraved invitations. We tip our hand, the suspect has time to hide things, get rid of things- like evidence.”

“This isn’t just any murder suspect,” Paulson said. “The Walker family is very prominent in Florida, as are Mr. Walker’s in-laws.”

Landry stared at Paulson, stared at Dugan. “Can you believe this guy? Can you believe this bullshit? Bennett Walker looks good for murdering a girl and throwing her body to the alligators. He probably assaulted the other girl to shut her up. I don’t give a rat’s ass who he is, or who his family is-”

“The governor does,” Paulson said.

Landry was so angry he couldn’t speak. He walked out of Dugan’s office to his desk, grabbed two photographs from the stack of paperwork accumulating regarding Irina Markova’s murder, and marched back into Dugan’s office. He held up the photos from the autopsy and advanced on Paulson.

“This is what you’re protecting,” he said. “The man who did his.”

Paulson took a step back, recoiling from the sight of the mutilated face.

“We’re not protecting him,” he argued. “We’re taking precautions. No one is saying to turn the other way because of who Bennett Walker is-”

Landry rolled his eyes. “Right-”

“Look at it this way, James,” Dugan said. “If Edward Estes is standing right there, he can’t accuse you of planting evidence.”

“Why not?” Landry said. “The man is a known liar who sold out his own daughter to get Walker off before.”

“Videotape everything,” Dugan said. “Including Estes himself.”

“So now we have to wait for a camera crew,” Landry combined. “Do you want Steven Spielberg to direct? I can make some calls. Or, hell, maybe the Walkers know him. Maybe we could ask our suspect.”

Dugan scowled at him. “Can it. Do we know where Walker is right now?”

Landry gave an elaborate shrug. “How would I know? You wouldn’t let me put a unit on him.”

“Put a unit on the house,” Dugan said. “Get everything in place. We’ll call Estes at the last second.”

“I’ll go with you to serve the warrant,” Paulson said.

“Serve coffee while you’re at it,” Landry said. “I’ll have mine black with two sugars. Or maybe an espresso. It’s going to be a long night. Maybe the Walkers could call Starbucks and have it catered.”

He left the room before Dugan could order him out and went back to his desk. After all his big talk to Walker at the 7th Chukker about hauling his ass in, throwing him in jail, nobody caring who he was, etc., etc., he felt like an asshole. Of course it mattered who Bennett Walker was and who he knew.

The world played a different ball game with guys like Walker- a rigged game.

Reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he checked his e-mail to try to get his focus back. Nothing from Latent Prints, nothing from Gitan. One caught his eye. He clicked on it.

The shot-in-the-dark inquiry he had made to Interpol the night before had been answered. He frowned as he read it and read it again.

Weiss came in, looking jazzed. “We have a ‘probable maybe’ match on the shoe print from the scene and from the car. Did you get the search warrant?”

“Yeah,” Landry said, without looking at him. “We have to put a unit on Walker’s house right now. Some asshole state’s attorney is going with us, and we’re waiting on a couple of videographers.”

“One big happy family,” Weiss said. “Who else is coming? Walker?”

“And his attorney.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“A courtesy from the Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office,” Landry said.

“Will there be coffee and cookies afterward?”

Landry didn’t answer him.

“What are you looking at? Porn?”

“Get this,” Landry said, pointing at his computer screen. “Juan Barbaro was questioned in relation to a rape/murder outside London in 2001.”

“And?”

“Nothing. Questioned and released. Some other guy was tried for it in ‘03 and walked.”

Weiss raised his eyebrows. “What was his alibi for Saturday night?”

“He was with Walker,” Landry said. “And Walker was with him.”

“Cozy.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s the only one of the bunch who gave us his DNA sample,” Weiss said. “He had to know we wouldn’t match it to the girl. Course, that just means he didn’t have unprotected sex with her, it doesn’t mean he couldn’t have killed her.”

“But why would Walker deal with the girl’s body if he didn’t kill her?” Landry said. “The gate guard ID’d him in Irina’s car. Nobody’s that good a friend, especially not a guy like Walker. He’s all about himself. Fucking sociopath. He expects other people to lie for him. He’s not going to stick his neck out for anybody.”

“We need to get the boots,” Weiss said. “If we can put him in he car and put him at the canal dumping the body, he can stick his head between his legs and kiss his ass good-bye.”

Landry grabbed his cell phone as he rose from his chair. He had a message.

“It’s me. ”Elena.

“Bennett Walkers alibi just went away. Juan Barbaro is recanting is statement.”

“Every man for himself,” Landry muttered as he scribbled down Barbaro’s phone number. To Weiss he said, “The Alibi Club just lost a member. Barbaro is recanting his statement.”

Weiss chuckled maniacally. “I love it when they turn on each other.”

Landry grabbed his sport coat off the back of his chair and pocketed his phone. “Let’s go get the party started.”