Chapter 32
Hector glanced around the bare interior of the kitchen that overlooked Lake Washington. “Thank you for agreeing to talk to me,” he said to Seth Price, the owner of the expensive waterfront house.
Price shrugged, looking exhausted as he opened his refrigerator. “I don’t know how I can be any help since I wasn’t even here the day that woman was killed.”
Hector saw beer and two takeout boxes in the fridge and nothing else.
Price grabbed a bottle, offered one to Hector.
“I’m on the job,” he said, shaking his head. He glanced around the kitchen and into the living room. No furniture, but there were stacks of boxes.
“Suit yourself.” He popped the top and leaned against the nearby countertop. The man was in his late forties, with sandy blond hair and had bags under his eyes.
There were no chairs, so Hector leaned against the opposite countertop. “You mind if I record this?”
Another shrug. “I don’t care,” he muttered.
And Hector had a feeling that attitude had way more to do with whatever was going on in Price’s life than the current questioning. Price had that exhausted look that Hector had seen before, and the shirt he had on looked too big, as if he’d recently lost weight.
“About a year ago, your neighbors…” Hector looked at his notebook even though he remembered their names. But he wanted this to appear casual, as if it was just a simple follow-up. “The Lakhanis were robbed.”
Price nodded. “Oh right. Yeah, I remember that. I didn’t see anything—I was at work. What’s that have to do with the Alexander woman getting murdered?” He took another swig from his bottle.
“I know you were at work, and your alibi isn’t in question.
But sometimes people don’t think about things until later.
Little details that didn’t seem important at the time, but could play a key role in a case.
Maybe someone who looked out of place. Someone…
” He pretended to check his notes again.
“Ah, did the nanny have any visitors that you recall?”
The guy blinked. “The hot blonde? Ah, I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head. “God, she was gorgeous. I loved watching her in the summertime in the pool with the kids.” He shook his head, smiled slightly as if picturing her.
“So you don’t remember any visitors or anything out of the ordinary?”
“No. I already told that other detective. Look, I’ve still gotta pack up more stuff before tomorrow.” There was a bitter note in his voice.
So Hector decided to get straight to the point. “I think there might be a connection between the robbery—and other ones in the neighborhood—and Cara Alexander’s murder. Detective Macmahon, the one you talked to before, said you were reticent about talking to him. Why?”
Price stared at him for a long moment, then let out a bitter laugh. “Reticent,” he snorted. Then he set his beer down and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, that’s a good word. But it had nothing to do with the robbery.”
“Talk to me, then.” Hector used his most calming voice, the one he reserved for victims. He’d already checked and the guy had been out of town during Cara’s murder, and didn’t seem to have a connection to the Alexander family.
But his name had been in Macmahon’s notes.
There was something there, whether it was connected to the robberies or murder or not.
Price was silent for a long moment, then let out another one of those bitter-sounding laughs.
“Guess there’s no harm in it now. Some asshole was blackmailing me and told me that if I talked to the cops, they’d tell my wife everything.
” He shook his head, downed the rest of his beer before pulling out another one.
As the fridge slapped shut, he continued.
“Not that it matters now, because she left me for her fucking trainer—and now I’ve got to sell the house I worked my ass off for. ”
A little alarm bell started in his head. “Who was blackmailing you?”
“I dunno. And there was no way to trace it, not even electronically, because they left the pictures…” He cleared his throat. “On my car. Right out in the open. Fucker,” he growled.
“Pictures of what?”
“Ah…of me and a woman who wasn’t my wife. At the time I was worried someone was watching me. Of course I didn’t want to be seen talking to a cop. Doesn’t matter now though.”
“How much did they blackmail you for?”
Price paused, but then to Hector’s surprise, he answered. “Fifty thousand. Said it was a one-time thing and they’d go away. I wasn’t sure I believed them, but I ended up paying it and never heard from them again.”
“How’d you pay? Cash, wire the funds…”
Price shook his head. “None of that. They wanted a couple of paintings I owned.” His jaw clenched. “Not even some of my more expensive ones, but fifty thousand worth.”
“They specifically asked for the paintings?”
“Yeah.” He finished off his second beer now, strode to the window and stared out at the lake. “I’m going to miss this house more than my wife,” he muttered.
Hector knew he was losing him and tried to keep him focused. “Where were the paintings hanging?”
“What?” Price turned to look at him, almost as if he’d forgotten he was there.
“The paintings. Where were they hanging?”
“My home office. Why does that matter?”
“Would you mind showing me your office?”
He rolled his eyes, and yep, Hector knew his time was coming to an end. “Sure, why the fuck not?” he muttered, grabbing another bottle before leading him to a room off the living room.
The office was empty save for a couple boxes, but it had a great view of the water and the neighbor’s pool. Which meant the neighbors had a great view of this particular room.
“They were right there.” He pointed at the bare wall. “Now if you don’t mind, I plan on getting drunk one last night in this place I worked my ass off for and now have to sell because of my bitch ex-wife…”
Hector ducked out, leaving the guy to rant alone as he mulled over this information. The blackmail angle was definitely new.
And could tie into Cara’s murder.
He just had to figure out who’d blackmailed Price—and if there were other victims. If what Macmahon said about Hannah Brown and her boyfriend, or partner, or whatever, was true, then Hector’s money was on the two of them being involved. At least peripherally.
And if they’d blackmailed one cheating husband, he doubted it was the first. There would be more victims.
As he headed back to his car, he saw he’d missed a call from Sloane. And a text. His heart rate kicked up more than he’d like to admit at the sight of her name.
But when he read her message, it kicked up for a different reason.