Page 21 of Dirty Looks

“You’re not a cop,” he said.

“Coroner,” I replied.

He nodded. “I heard about Evie on the news. Poor kid. I’ve already gotten a call from Mr. Lidle. My head is probably going to be on a platter in the next few hours.”

“We’re going to need to talk to you,” Martinez said. “We’ll come back out and do a full interview and get the list of your team that was on duty once we have a full picture inside.”

“I’ll be here,” he said, closing the door to the guardhouse.

“Impression?” Martinez asked as he drove through the impressive wrought-iron gate.

“Seemed more worried about his job than the brutal murder of a kid. I didn’t like the way he looked me over. Reminded me of a blind date I went on once. Like he was sizing me up to see if I was acceptable.”

“He was checking you out,” Martinez said. “Saw your wedding ring and didn’t bother with the rest of the scan. I recognize the signs.”

I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. I knew there was a reason I didn’t miss the dating scene.

It was another five-minute drive up the winding, tree-lined driveway to the front of the estate.

“Amazing what a little ketchup can get a person in this country,” I said, looking at the monstrosity in front of me with awe.

Jack came from wealth, so I was used to some of the privileges it brought. But Jack had also come from a family who had worked for their money, and he was no stranger to physical labor. But this kind of wealth was off the charts. Everett Lidle’s parents were in the exclusive billionaire club. Despite having homes all over the world, they’d decided to make their permanent residence here.

The Lidles weren’t from King George County. I didn’t even know how they ended up here. But I remember the complaints from when I was a kid when they’d built this monstrosity of a house. They’d bought up two farms that were struggling and had paid more than double than what they were worth at the time. And then they’d eventually appeased the community by saying there were keeping the land intact through their Arabian enterprise.

Though to give credit where credit was due, they’d stayed true to their word. They’d kept the land and not sold it off for millions of dollars, which was what it was worth now. And their horses frequently placed or won in the derby.

The mansion was built at a right angle, modern and impressive and white, with balconies on all three levels that overlooked a massive swimming pool and entertainment area. I doubted the Lidles made it down to the stables on a day-to-day basis, if ever, and the stables and any hint of animals were almost a mile down the road, along with several smaller cottages where I assumed staff lived.

“Nice place,” Martinez said.

“Hey, I’m sure you’re used to this stuff as the president of Toro,” I said, waggling my brows. “You ever hobnob with the Lidles?”

Martinez snorted. “Are you kidding? That’s a club that only cokeheads and terrorists can get into. They’ve gotmoney.I just have regular money.”

“Yeah, I figured as much,” I said. “I saw a thing on TMZ a few years ago about Everett’s brother, Phin, and how he was dating a hotel heiress and a member of the royal family at the same time. The three of them got caught in a ménage à trois and there were all kinds of drugs and hidden cameras in this seedy motel room. But they were in the UK when it happened so the royal familytried to bury it so it didn’t embarrass the family. Phin’s wife took him to the cleaners in his divorce.”

“Look at you keeping up with the gossip news,” Martinez said.

“TMZ was always playing at the hospital when I worked the night shift,” I said. “It was hard not to see it.”

There was a covered drive that looked like someone had stacked giant white tables on one another and Martinez parked beneath it, leaving room for others to get around him if needed.

Martinez’s phone rang just as we were about to exit and he answered it from the screen. “Detective Martinez,” he said.

“Detective Martinez,” an unfamiliar voice said. “This is Robert Lidle. I believe you just arrived at my home.” His voice was gruff and no nonsense.

Martinez’s brows rose in surprise. I knew cops’ cell phones were protected, so it wasn’t just anyone who had access other than dispatch or personal acquaintances.

“How can I help you, Mr. Lidle?” Martinez asked.

“I’m sure it’s difficult for a man in your position to understand, but my family is under attack and the media is in a frenzy.” There was a slight pause as he cleared his throat. “I know you all have a job to do, but with a family like ours, sometimes these matters must be dealt with more delicately and out of the public eye. We’re under a great deal of scrutiny all of the time, and situations like this only add fuel to the fire of competitors in the business or even those who’d like to see projects I’m working to get through Congress to fail.”

“You mean situations like your granddaughter being murdered and your wife being taken away by ambulance?” Martinez asked.

“I want justice for my granddaughter,” he said. “I can only imagine how her poor mother and my son are coping right now. And the King George Sheriff’s Office has my full support. As I’msure you know, the Lidle family donates a healthy amount each year at the first responders’ ball and also to your sheriff during election season so you can all have those nice new vehicles and top-notch equipment.”

“And we appreciate your support,” Martinez cut in smoothly.

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