Lawyer Trap

67





DAY TEN–SEPTEMBER 14

WEDNESDAY NIGHT


The lights at the Old Town tavern never did come back on, not after a minute, or ten or even fifteen. Incredibly, almost no one left, apparently determined to drink the beer they’d paid for. Lighters ignited everywhere, reminding Aspen of the final scene in Frankenstein. The band pulled out acoustical guitars and sang without mics. Aspen and Christina stayed in the booth until their beer was gone and then muscled through the crowd to the front door, alive and without incident, except for a few invisible hands that managed to grope them pretty good. The umbrella, of course, was long gone, and the storm outside now plummeted down even more intensely than before.

They ran through the weather.

Cold, tipsy and incredibly alive.

Feeling like wild animals.

Thirty minutes later, in dry clothes and sipping hot chocolate, they settled in on the couch to watch TV for a half hour before heading to bed, flicking the channels until they eventually landed on A Perfect Murder. Michael Douglas was in the process of pressuring his wife’s boyfriend to kill her.

“See, never get married,” Christina said.

“Gee, I better remember that,” Aspen said. “I get asked so often.”

A half hour later, while Christina was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, a mental picture of Derek Bennett sticking pins into women jumped into Aspen’s brain. It was so vivid and unsettling that she called Nick Teffinger, who had earlier said he’d do a background check on Bennett. When he answered he didn’t seem eager to talk, almost as if she was interrupting him. She heard rain in the background, as if he was in a car.

“It’s me, Aspen Wilde,” she said. “Is this a bad time?”

No.

No problem.

She thought she heard a woman’s voice in the background but couldn’t be sure.

“I just wondered if you found out anything on Derek Bennett yet.”

A pause, then, “We haven’t had a chance yet. Why?”

“Nothing, really. I was just curious, that’s all.”

“He’s on the to-do list,” Teffinger said.

“Okay. Thanks.”

They said goodbye, and she almost hung up, when his voice came back again. “Are you still there?” She was. “Let me ask you something. Apparently your law firm owns several BMWs. Do you know who in the firm uses them? Who they’re assigned to?”

She didn’t.

“Can you do me a favor and find out?”

“Sure.”

“Do it quietly, though. Don’t let anyone know,” he added.

He sounded serious.

“Are they connected to the four murders?”

“We’ll see.”

“Wait a minute. I just remembered. I’m pretty sure Derek Bennett drives a BMW. Silver, I think.”