“That must be it,” he said. “Actually, I’m here about Glory Littleton.”
Gayle stepped aside and gestured for him to come inside. “What has she done?”
Wade edged past her breasts into a grand marble foyer with two large sweeping staircases that framed the entry to the two?story great room and picture windows with an incredible view of the lawn, the dock, and the river. “What makes you think that she’s done anything?”
“You’re here, she didn’t show up to clean yesterday, and she’s one of them.”
“Them?”
“Those people down there,” she said, waving her hand in the general direction of downriver. “You know who I mean. The ones who will pimp their mother for crack.”
“Oh yeah, those people.”
“But she’s always been great with us,” Gayle said. “I could leave my jewelry out when she was dusting and not worry about a thing. Was I wrong?”
“She didn’t commit any crimes-at least not that I know of.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“She’s been murdered,” Wade said.
Gayle gasped and put a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were already very wide, so he was grateful for the gasp-otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to detect any shock or surprise on her face.
“Oh my God,” she said. “The poor girl. Ethan needs to know.”
She took a deep breath to calm herself, then marched off behind her chest. Wade followed, noting that her ass had been reshaped to match her breasts, or perhaps it was vice versa. She looked like she had a pair of basketballs implanted front and back.
Gayle led him through a kitchen, which was large enough to run a restaurant, and on through the dining room, which was large enough to entertain a government, and then out through a set of French doors to the brick patio, which was large enough to hold a high school graduation.
There was another grand stairway, this one outside and made of stone, that spilled onto a cobblestone path that led down to the dock, where Ethan Burdett was in their twenty?foot, vintage?style, mahogany?and?fiberglass runabout, leaning over the side and scrubbing a black smudge off the gleaming, piano?key?white hull with a rag.
Ethan was in his fifties and tennis?court fit, wearing a white yacht skipper’s cap, polo shirt, chinos, and Top?Siders without socks. Wade wondered if the attire was a legal requirement of boat ownership.
Unlike his wife’s, Ethan’s tan was natural, rather than applied, and the closest he’d been to a plastic surgeon was writing one checks. Wade thought Ethan would be a perfect actor for one of those Cialis ads, the ones that always ended with both couples sitting naked in separate his?and?hers bathtubs in a rainforest.
Gayle spoke up, her voice shaking. “Ethan, I have terrible news.”
Ethan glanced at Wade and assumed the worst. “Oh shit, which one of our cars did my son total this time? Tell me it’s not the Porsche.”
“It’s about Glory,” Gayle said. “She’s been killed.”
Ethan blinked hard, took off his hat, and sat down on one of the pleated leather seats that matched the color of the hull. “Jesus. What happened?”
“She left home to clean your place and ended up dead and dumped at the King Steel factory,” Wade said. “Did either of you see her yesterday morning?”
“I was stuck in an arbitration all day with a room full of lawyers,” Ethan said, then glanced at his wife. “Did you see her?”
Gayle shook her head. “She never showed up. I tried calling her cell, but she didn’t answer. I was furious about it. The house looked like such a dump after the weekend and we had the Wittens coming for dinner. I had to do the cleaning myself.”
Wade glanced back at the dump. It was a palace compared to anything in Darwin Gardens or even the tract?home sprawl of New King City.
“When did Glory start working for you?”
“About a year ago,” Ethan said. “She was part of the crew that cleans up my office at night. I was impressed by her work ethic and her positive attitude. She really wanted to make something of herself and I wanted to help her attain that goal.”
Gayle wiped a tear from her wide eyes. “I was cursing her all day for not showing up, and all that time, God only knows what horrors were being inflicted upon her. I am such a bitch.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, honey,” Ethan said. “Think instead about all the good things you did for her. We enriched her life in so many ways. You treated her like another member of our family. We all did.”
“Really?” Wade said. “So how many of your relatives clean your toilets and take a bus home to Darwin Gardens every night?”
Gayle stiffened up, pulling her shoulders back and aiming her breasts at Wade as if they were cannons. They certainly looked like they were loaded with large cannon balls.
“Are you implying that what happened to Glory is our fault for not inviting her to live under our roof? Maybe we should invite the gardener and the pool man to live with us too.”
“He knew what I meant,” Ethan said to his wife, then stood up and faced Wade. “I’d like to know why a simple patrolman is asking questions about a homicide. Isn’t that a job for a detective?”
“Yes, it is,” Wade said. “And the fact that I’m the one who’s here proves that Glory isn’t being treated like a member of your family at all.”
He turned and walked away.
Chapter eighteen
There was an Escalade parked in the motor court beside the Bentley. The SUV was tricked out with lots of chrome and a custom front grill of silver mesh.
Billy was admiring the Escalade with a guy in his twenties wearing a muscle shirt to show off his arms, board shorts, and flip?flops as Wade quietly came around the side of the house.
The guy wanted everybody to see his arms, not because they were muscled, but because he had the Twenty?third Psalm tattooed in small but flowery script on one and some Chinese letters and the comedy and tragedy theatrical masks on the other.
“This is a nice ride,” Billy said, admiring the Escalade almost as much as he had the Ferrari. “Love the chrome.”
“I did it myself,” the guy said.
“No shit? I’ve got a ’sixty?eight Chevy Impala convertible that I’m fixing up.”
“You ought to come down to my body shop. I’ll cut you a deal.”
Billy was about to reply when he noticed Wade standing a few feet away. He immediately stiffened up.
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t accept any special consideration,” Billy said. “I only go full freight.”
The guy noticed the shift in Billy’s tone of voice and followed the officer’s gaze to Wade.
“I’ve got a 2008 Mustang that’s taken a beating,” Wade said, approaching them both. “Maybe I’ll stop by too.”
“Please do. Tell all your friends.” The guy reached into his pocket, came out with two business cards, and handed them out. “Have ’em ask for Seth Burdett. I own the place.”
Wade pocketed the card. “Aren’t you worried that having a bunch of cops around your shop will cut into your business from Darwin Gardens?”
Billy blinked hard, no doubt wondering how Wade had made that leap. He wouldn’t have wondered if he’d seen Timo’s matching Escalade.
“I have clients from all over King City,” Seth said. “Talent gets noticed. Word gets around.”
“Was it Glory who spread the word for you down there?”
“How do you know Glory?” Seth asked.
“I don’t, but I’m trying to,” Wade said. “Might help me figure out who killed her.”
Seth staggered back as if he’d just absorbed a blow and hugged himself. Wade cocked his head and read a portion of the psalm on Seth’s arm:
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no eviclass="underline"
For thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;
Thou anointest my head with oil;
My cup runneth over.
At least Seth didn’t need to look any farther than his arm to find comfort.