Sleight of Hand

CHAPTER Twenty-Four

At four-thirty, the receptionist buzzed Stephanie Robb to tell her that a man was calling with information about the Blair missing-person case. Robb sighed. She’d been fielding calls about Carrie Blair since the story broke, and none of the tips had gone anywhere. Still, there was always an outside chance that the caller really knew something that could move the investigation forward, so she had the call put through.

“This is Detective Robb speaking.”

“I know what happen to Mrs. Blair.”

Robb was certain that the caller was a man, but his voice was muffled.”

“To whom am I speaking?” Robb said.

“No is important who I am. What I know is important.”

Robb guessed the caller was Hispanic, or someone trying to sound Hispanic.

“And just what do you know?”

“I see him do it.”

“Do what?”

“Put her in the trunk.”

“You saw someone put Mrs. Blair in the trunk of a car? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Sí.”

“Who did you see putting her body in the trunk?”

“Mr. Blair. He no think anyone see him, but I see him.”

Robb knew the make of all of Blair’s vehicles. “What kind of car did he put the body in?” she asked.

“A fancy car, black. He take it to work sometimes.”

Blair owned a black Bentley.

“When did you see Mr. Blair put the body in the black car?”

“Monday, late. Maybe it was Tuesday, after midnight. I no have a watch.”

“Where did this happen?”

“Are you doing a track on me?” the man asked, suddenly panicky.

“No, sir. But I would like to meet with you.”

“No.”

“Can you tell me your name?” Robb asked, but the line was already dead.

The detective sat back and thought about the conversation. Did the caller really see Horace Blair put his wife’s body in the trunk of a car? If he did see him, where did he see him? Robb remembered her visit to Blair’s estate. The grounds were beautiful and very well tended. It would take an army of gardeners to keep a place like that looking good, and a lot of gardeners were Hispanic. Some of those Hispanics might be in the country illegally and wouldn’t want to meet with an officer of the law.

Robb would love to look inside the trunk of Blair’s Bentley, but there was no way she could get a search warrant with an affidavit supported only by the word of an informant who refused to give his name.

“Hey, Frank.”

Santoro was writing a report. He held up a hand, finished a sentence, then swiveled his chair in Robb’s direction. When she had his full attention she told him about the call.

“You think there’s anything to it?” Santoro asked.

“I have no idea, but the guy sounded scared. He didn’t sound like a crank.”

“No judge is going to give us a warrant.”

“I figured that out already. So what do we do?”

Santoro looked at the ceiling and spaced out. When he returned to Earth he said, “Why don’t we drive to Blair’s office and ask him if we can look in the trunk? See how he deals with that.”



Horace Blair looked up expectantly when the two detectives entered his office.

“Do you have news about Carrie?” he asked.

“No, sir,” Robb answered, “but we may have a lead.”

“I’m Frank Santoro, Detective Robb’s partner, and we have an odd request for you.”

“Yes?” Horace said.

“You own a Bentley, right?”

“Yes?” Horace answered, slightly confused by the question.

“Where is it?”

“In the parking garage. I drove it to work today.”

“Great!” Santoro answered. “Can we look in the trunk?”

“The trunk of the Bentley?” Horace repeated, not certain he’d heard the detective correctly.

“If it’s no trouble.”

“Why do you want to look in the trunk? I don’t understand.”

“We had a confidential tip, Mr. Blair,” Robb answered. “I’m sorry, but we can’t reveal the content. You understand.”

“I understand why you can’t reveal the content of a tip, but I don’t understand how the trunk of my car can possibly be connected to Carrie’s disappearance.”

“If you open it for us, we may be able to clear up your confusion,” Santoro said.

Horace hesitated for a moment. Then he stood up. “Come with me.”

No one said a word during the elevator ride down to the parking garage. Blair led the detectives to his car. The detectives slipped on latex gloves while Horace used his key to open the trunk. Robb angled the beam of a flashlight around the interior. The light reflected off the irons in a bag of golf clubs. A baseball cap and a pair of golf shoes had been shoved in a corner. Robb had almost decided that she and Santoro were on a wild-goose chase when she played the beam along the edge of the trunk and saw a brown smear. She looked up at Frank, who was leaning over her shoulder.

“Is that blood, Mr. Blair?” Frank asked.

Blair bent over and examined the area illuminated by the flashlight.

“I don’t know.”

“Can you think of any reason why there would be a bloodstain in the trunk of your car?”

“No.”

Blair sounded genuinely puzzled, but Santoro had dealt with criminals who were great liars, so he drew no conclusions.

“Frank,” Robb said. She had shifted the flashlight beam and it now shone on two blond hairs. Frank focused on them.

“Your wife is blond, isn’t she?” Robb asked.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Blair, I’d like to have someone from our crime lab examine the trunk. It could help us find your wife. Would that be okay with you?”

Blair looked confused. He hesitated and the detectives waited.

“You think this will help you find Carrie?” he asked.

“It might.”

“Then I guess it’s okay.”

“Thank you,” Robb said.

While Santoro stepped away and punched in the number of the crime lab on his cell, Robb took another look in the trunk. She leaned in and moved the golf bag to see if there was anything under it. This dislodged the golf shoes, which had been leaning against the bag. Robb tensed. Her back was to Blair, and what she saw in the beam of the flashlight set off alarms.

Robb stood up casually as if she were through with the search. Then she turned away from Blair to shield her gun from him. When she turned back, she was pointing her service revolver at the millionaire.

“Mr. Blair, please raise your hands and take a step back.”

Blair stared at the gun. “What the hell’s going on here?”

Santoro looked at his partner as if she were crazy. “What are you doing, Steph?”

“Raise your hands, now!” Robb commanded.

Blair raised his hands. He looked confused and frightened.

“There’s a gun hidden behind the golf shoes,” Robb told Santoro.

Santoro leaned into the trunk and saw the gun. He picked it up by the trigger guard and dropped it in an evidence bag. Then he held up the bag so Blair could see what was in it.

“Is this your gun?” Santoro asked Blair.

Blair started to answer. Then it dawned on him that a homicide detective was holding a gun on him and a gun he’d never seen before had just been removed from the trunk of his car where bloodstains had also been found.

“I think I should confer with an attorney before this goes any further,” he said.

“That’s your right, Mr. Blair, but this is very suspicious. It would help if you explained what this gun was doing in your car,” Santoro said.

“I want to speak to a lawyer before I answer any more questions,” Blair said firmly.

“And I think we should continue this discussion at police headquarters,” Robb said.