The Equalizer (16 page)

Chapter 19

DAY EIGHT

F
riday morning’s Birch County Register
ran the headline: “A CLUE IN THE KOHLER/PETERSON CASE.” Victoria Lewis was listed as the staff reporter. The article covered Ralph’s press conference and quoted the Bible verse found in Kohler’s truck—unfortunate but foreseeable.

When I showed Ralph the paper he said, “We should have figured they’d find out and run it. Well, maybe if anyone knows anything they’ll come forward.”

“I just hope it doesn’t spur copy cats.”

Leslie Rouch arrived
for our scheduled case meeting. She promised the DNA evidence and toxicology reports by early next week. Ralph suggested I spend my time on Wynn.

Immediately after the meeting I checked for messages. Victoria had texted me: “Ready to go to Vegas? Still time.”

I answered: “I’ll get back to you.”

I found Ralph in Jack’s office and told him I’d been invited to Vegas, purposefully neglecting by
whom
. I said I’d interview Nevada Wynn in Minneapolis either coming or going.”

“I’ll go along with that.”

“Great,” I said.

But before I could get out of the door he asked, “Who’s the girl?”

“Victoria Lewis.”

“Oh, Cal.” He stared at me. “Just be careful what you tell her.”

“Hell, I’m hoping to pump her for information.”

He shrugged.

When I called Victoria and told her I would go, she squealed so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “You really will go with me? I don’t believe it! This is going to be so much fun!”

“Where are we staying, by the way?” I asked.

“Dad booked us a suite at the Bellagio. I’ll have your plane tickets. Can you be ready to leave by twelve-thirty for Minneapolis?”

“If I hurry,” I said.

“Pack casual clothes. It’s not formal. I’ll pick you up.”

“Sounds good,” I said.

After I dropped Bullet off
at Larry’s, who was only too eager to have “our dog” for the weekend, Victoria called to get directions to my place. She arrived ten minutes early and we took off for the Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport in her Toyota. On the drive down, I asked her questions about her family so I would know what I was getting into.

Her mother lived in Palm Beach, Florida, and had a successful realty company she procurred in the divorce settlement. Victoria loved her father, hated his second wife, and wasn’t sure about the bride to be. She had a brother that was always “up her ass” for one thing or another—most of it unwarranted in her opinion. Her grandfather made the family fortune, and it wasn’t just the newspapers, but real estate and insurance companies.

“So if your family is that wealthy, why are you even working?” I asked her.

“Daddy’s philosophy is the same as his father’s—that the kids make their own way. We have money in trusts doled out to us at certain ages. My first will be when I’m thirty, but we can tap it if it’s not for frivolous purchases. Dad doesn’t want lazy, ungrateful children.”

“I think I may like him,” I said.

Courtesy of Adam Lewis, we flew first class. The free-flowing glasses of wine put me in the party mood. When we disembarked in Vegas, the warm air felt charged. We spotted the limo driver sporting a “Lewis” sign, and shortly after seven o’clock we were walking into the lobby of the Bellagio, where I saw Philip and Sheila Warner across the room.
Small world,
I thought. He was an attorney from Prairie Falls—and Adriana Valero’s old boss.

Our suite had full-length windows with views of the fountain and strip. I was pumped for a kick-back relaxing time—weddings were fun, right? Victoria said we were already late and had to hurry. We showered together and after all that soapy fun it, not surprisingly, ended in a quickie.

After, Victoria rifled through my luggage and suggested I wear my white slacks and a light-blue Polo shirt. I found it mildly annoying she picked out my clothes, but obliged. Before we left, we both checked ourselves out in the mirror in the hallway by the door.

“You look very handsome,” she said.

“That’s because I have Snow White near me,” I said.

She screwed up her nose. “Snow White?”

“That’s what Tamika Frank called you. The deputy who handled our . . . crash.”

“Ohhh. Why did she call me Snow White?”

I pointed to her reflection in the mirror. “Look at yourself. Your hair, your creamy skin, you’re gorgeous.”

“Why thank you, kind sir.” She turned and gave me a kiss that went on forever.

“I started reaching up under her pink sundress to feel her inner thigh.

“Later, baby. We need to get going now!” she said playfully slapping my hand.

By seven forty-five when the elevator doors opened onto the main floor, she said, “Ready to meet the old boy?”

“Sure thing,” I said, as I suddenly felt nervous. Why did I care I was going to meet relatives of a woman I hardly knew?

Victoria grabbed my hand and led me to the private room where the party was being held. Strange. The Warners were standing in a small circle of people, just inside the door. Why would
they
be at this wedding? My eyes surveyed the room. Then I saw her—Adriana Valero. She was arm and arm with a man
. What the hell? Why’s she here?

Victoria dragged me through the crowd of about thirty people right up to the man with Adriana.

“Dad, this is Cal!” she said.

Adriana’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped. Dad? I expected to see an old dude, not a guy who could double as George Clooney. But with a closer look, I could see the crows’ feet around his eyes and the start of wobbly neck skin. But I still didn’t understand why Adriana was on his arm.

“Adam Lewis,” the man said. “Nice to meet you, Cal. Victoria has told me so much about you. And this exquisite beauty is my wife to be, Adriana Valero,” he said, lifting her hand to kiss it.

Wife?
I don’t know if I’ve ever been more shocked in my entire life.

Adriana flushed. She was gorgeous as ever, wearing a long, pale yellow silky dress, and a dainty diamond necklace.

“Adam darling, I know Cal. We dated while I was in Prairie Falls,” Adriana said as she eyed Victoria.

“Really?” he said looking at me with newfound interest.

I couldn’t find my voice, but mercifully, a couple not wanting to wait their turn to greet the couple, interrupted our conversation. Adam touched my arm and said we’d talk later.
Yeah, can’t wait for that
.

As I turned away, a waiter with a full tray of glasses asked, “Champagne, sir?”

I took two, intending to drink both—one out of each side of my mouth, but Victoria grabbed one.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Did you know I was with Adriana for two years?”

“Two years? Oh, my gosh, no, I didn’t.”

“How long have they been dating?”

“Off and on for a few years. They started up again when Adriana moved back to Minneapolis.”

Off and on for a few years?
“How old is your dad?”

“He’s fifty-one, and she’s like thirty-four,” she said.

“Thirty-two,” I corrected.

He looked forty something—he must have had some work done—dyed his hair.

“You seem upset,” Victoria said.

“I had no idea Adriana was getting . . .”

I felt a touch on my shoulder—Adriana’s. “Victoria, can you give us a minute?” she asked.

“If that’s
all
it is,” Victoria said then walked off to greet some people in the corner.

I followed Adriana out into the hallway.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting married?” I said.

“I tried to call you. Did you change your number?”

“Oh . . . my new phone,” I said.

“I didn’t know you were seeing Victoria—now I understand all her questions. You should know I didn’t go into the details of our relationship with her.”

“She said you’ve been dating
for years
. Did you see him while you were with me?”

“No, of course not. Cal, I told you about Adam the night we talked about all our past relationships.”

“He’s the man who wanted to marry you, but broke it off because you didn’t believe in marriage?”

“Yes.” At least she had the decency to appear rueful.

“Wow.” I laughed. “It’s just weird, you know? I go to a friend’s father’s wedding and it so happens
you’re
the bride. What are the odds?” I sounded bitter—even to my own ears.

“Only in Vegas . . . I bet if you’d known you wouldn’t have come?”

I smirked. “What was your first clue?”

Her brows furrowed. “So how long have you been seeing Victoria?”

“Not long. Coming to the wedding was a rather spontaneous decision.”

“Then you’ve changed—I know spontaneity isn’t in your comfort zone.”

Adam Lewis interrupted us. “There you are, darling. I want you to meet the Harmons,”

“Just give me a minute, sweetie,” she said.

Sweetie? Sugar Daddy is more like it.

“Sure, darling,” he said kissing her on the lips—longer this time. He gave me a snarky look and disappeared back inside the room.

She hugged me. “I’m sorry, Cal. I hope this isn’t too uncomfortable for you.”

“Don’t even think about it. Think about how you’ll soon be Mrs. Lewis,” I said.

“I’m keeping Valero.”

“Good—easier when you divorce. Bet you signed a pre-nup,” I said.

She smiled and patted my arm. “It’s good to see you.”

Victoria showed up to say, “Time’s up, Adriana. Daddy’s waiting for you.”

“Yes, don’t keep daddy waiting, Adriana,” I said.

She gave me a look I knew well . . . it meant
shut the hell up.
She
didn’t look back. I excused myself and went to the restroom. I stood at the sink watching myself tear up.
Oh, get a grip, Cal.
I splashed water on my face, wiped it with a towel, and shook my head trying to clear the ghosts.

Phillip Warner took that opportunity to walk in. “Cal.”

“Phillip.”

“I take it you didn’t know Adam’s bride was Adriana,” he said.

“Oh, I just noticed their names even start with the same fucking letters,” I said.

He laughed.

I shook my head. “And, no, I didn’t know.”

“Complicated.”

I shrugged. “Hey, Ted Kohler was a member of your club, right?”

He stood at the urinal and unzipped his pants. I looked away.

“Right. He was a client and a good friend.”

“Do you know anything that could help find your client and friend’s killer?”

“This may be nothing, but couple weeks before he was shot, my wife and I were having dinner at the club with him and Eleanor. He went to the restroom and didn’t return. I decided to go myself and see if he fell in. When I walked by a smaller room, I heard Ted arguing with a woman.”

“Who was it?”

“Couldn’t see her—but I know it was Ted’s voice I heard. By the time I came out of the men’s room, he was back at the table.”

“What did you hear?”

“He said that it wasn’t his problem.”

“What wasn’t?”

“Don’t know. I figured if he wanted me to know, he would have told me.”

“Well, that gives me squat,” I said.

He gave me a sly smile. “Always like to give a helping hand to the department.”

“Right. See ya later.”

I made my way to the bar then looked over the crowd. I spotted Adriana’s mother, Magna, and her sister, Gina, talking with a small group of women by the bar. Adriana’s father wasn’t probably invited, as they hadn’t had contact for years. Her parents divorced when she was young and her dad was always off in exotic places doing medical research.

Victoria was standing next to a man who was the male version of her. He was prematurely balding but shared the delicate facial features making him look effeminate. After I made my way over, she introduced him as Wesley, her pharmacist brother. His frumpy, thick wife joined us. She had broad facial features and large ears that protruded through her thin, straight hair. Her choice of dress was something my grandmothers might not even wear. When we were introduced, Melinda barely acknowledged me before she pounced on Victoria.

“So,
why
didn’t you make your flight? You missed the rehearsal.”

“Because I wanted to fly out with Cal.”

“You aren’t going to know what to do at the ceremony,” Wesley said.

“What’s to know? I’m sure it’s similar to his
last
wedding.”

“Don’t even start,” Wesley said. “Come on, Melinda, let’s get the kids and take our seats.”

As they walked away, Victoria giggled, “He hates when he can’t control me.”

“When was your Dad’s last wedding?”

“Seven years ago—lasted three years.”

Maybe this one will be shorter.
“Was she a lot younger as well?”

“Only ten years.”

Victoria pointed out the two children running willy-nilly through the reception room as her niece and nephew, Fanchon and Alston.

“Who?”

“Fanchon and Alston. Melinda didn’t want common names for her
uncommon
children.”

“Fanny and Al?”

She giggled.

Apparently the kids were not complying with their parents’ request for them to be seated. Victoria and I took our places at a table near the wedding party. An elderly woman sat down next to me and introduced herself as the groom’s Aunt Evelyn. You could tell she had been a beauty in her day.

“Cal Sheehan,” I said, as I offered my hand.

Grasping it, she said, “Victoria’s my grandniece.” She kept hold of me.

“I see beauty runs in the family.”

“Well, aren’t you the flatterer?”

“I only speak the truth.”

She smiled. “Victoria has always been extra special to me—lovely, smart child. Someone who goes after what she wants.”

“Is that a warning?” I asked.

She chuckled, finally released her grip and moved her thin, veined hand to my forearm. Her huge diamond ring glittered in the candlelight.

“Is there a Mr. Evelyn?”

“My late husband, Hugo, died of a heart attack fifteen years ago. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer man.”