The Perfect Impression by Pierce, Blake (essential reading TXT) đź“•
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That was like an awfully specific detail to recall, one that Aldridgeseemed to agree with time-wise, if only hazily. Jessie’s mind began to spin outa scenario, one that might explain why a pair of unrepentant, married swingersmight turn in early while on a group vacation at a party hotel.
It was time to pay a visit to the Landers. This wouldn’t be the firsttime she followed a lead based on little more than a hunch.
*
Jessie didn’t call Peters.
She knew he’d be pissed. But even though he’d proven to be a morecompetent partner than she’d first thought, she had reason to go it alone. All ofthe swingers crowd had invoked lawyers, which meant that law enforcement couldn’tinterview them without counsel present. But Jessie’s consultant status made herobligation to follow those rules less clear. Until they were clarified she washappy to take advantage of the loophole.
Besides, she still had some residual reservations about where Peters’sloyalties lay. She wanted to believe he was here for the reason he said, tosolve this case and prove that their little sheriff’s department team was instrumentalin keeping their island safe for visitors.
But some small part of her, one she wasn’t proud of but couldn’t silence,wondered if the guy was really a double agent, here to report back to CaptainHawley and warn him if things were about to get ugly so his boss could use anypull he had to shut the investigation down.
It wasn’t fair to the detective, but it was the main reason she was byherself when she pulled up in front of the Landers’ impressive Westwood home.She finally justified the decision by telling herself that the questions sheneeded to ask were so sensitive that the couple might not answer if there weretwo people doing the questioning.
She walked up the path to the house, wondering what business theLanders were in that allowed them such a striking house. The structure lookedlike a Swiss chalet dropped in the middle of West Los Angeles. Complete withmultiple wooden balconies, intricate overhanging eaves, and several flowerbedslittered with elaborate collections of gnomes in sexually suggestive poses, itcould only belong to people with more money than they needed.
Jessie worked at UCLA, less than two miles from the house, and yet thissecluded stretch of the community was like some sheltered, foreign world. Everyother house on the block was equally imposing, though none were quite askitschy.
The doorbell made a yodeling sound when she pressed it. It was stillplaying thirty seconds later when Barry Lander opened the door. He had changedsince she saw him last and was now wearing jeans and a turtleneck sweater.
“Who is it?” his wife called out from somewhere inside.
“It’s Ms. Hunt from our island chat,” he yelled back. “I think shemissed us.”
“Before you say anything,” Jessie told him, “I think I may be able tohelp eliminate you and your wife as suspects. But if you refuse to speak withme, there’s nothing I can do to help.”
“Are you even allowed to be here?” he asked, with less animosity thatshe’d expected.
“I’m not bound by the rules of the LAPD or Sheriff’s Department. We canstill talk, as long as you’re willing.”
“She says she can clear us!” he shouted back along the echoing hall.Jessie didn’t point out that she hadn’t been quite that definitive.
“Invite her in,” Marin Lander instructed. Barry bowed as he gesturedfor her to enter.
She followed him down a long hall into a large lodge-style living room,complete with a roaring fireplace as big as the one Charles Foster Kane had atXanadu. Mrs. Lander was lying on one of the couches under a fluffy blanket.
“Are you sure you’re not here for pleasure instead of business?” sheasked provocatively as Jessie sat down on an ottoman across from her.
“All business,” Jessie assured her.
“As I would have guessed,” Barry said, climbing under the blanket nextto his wife, “though it’s a shame.”
A brief image of pigs in a blanket popped into Jessie’s head but shepushed it away before the urge to giggle overcame her. It was obvious that thelack of sleep was starting to make her a little loopy.
“I don’t need much of your time,” she said briskly. “If you can confirma theory I have, it could go a long way to helping me solve Gabby’s murder.”
“What’s your theory?” Marin Lander asked, clearly intrigued.
“You said that you left the bar last night around ten and went to yourroom, where you remained until you heard Melissa screaming, correct?”
“That’s right,” Barry replied.
“You also mentioned that Theo Aldridge left the bar around the sametime as you,” Jessie continued.
“Did we?” Marin asked, squirming slightly on the couch.
“You did,” Jessie assured her. “And according to his timeline of hiswhereabouts that night, Theo indicated that you two were among the people whocould vouch for his location during part of that period.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Barry said, though it was clear that he did.
“Well, Mr. Lander, if you and your wife were in your room from ten onand Theo indicated that he was with you some time after ten, that would meanthat he was in your room as well.”
Neither Lander spoke. Practically, that was almost as good as aconfirmation to Jessie. But officially it wasn’t near enough, so she went on.
“Here’s what I think: Ariana left the island upset at the idea ofswinging. But Theo was intrigued. The two of you were more than willing tosatisfy his curiosity. But because of the prohibition among your friendsagainst intermingling, you had to keep it quiet. You were breaking the cardinalrule. You didn’t want to use him as an alibi if at all possible because of therepercussions among the group. Am I close?”
The two of them exchanged a look Jessie didn’t understand. She sat upstraighter and allowed her right arm to rest on the ottoman near her gun, justin case they reacted particularly poorly to her suggestion.
“Ms. Hunt,” Marin said huffily, tossing the blanket off the both ofthem, “that is a scurrilous allegation. We’re already dealing with the death ofone of our closest friends. Now
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