Page 22 of Dirty Looks

“But I believe the best thing for our family would be for you to wrap up your investigation quickly. The longer this drags out, the harder it is on everyone. And my responsibility as the head of this family is to make sure that we can grieve in peace, without people poking into our lives.”

Martinez’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel and his gaze was thoughtful. “Mr. Lidle,” he said. “We’re going to do everything in our power to make sure that your granddaughter’s killer is brought to justice quickly.”

“Good, good,” he said. “I’m glad we understand each other.” And then he disconnected the call.

I pursed my lips and then said, “Maybe I got the wrong impression.”

“No, I don’t think you did,” he said.

“But it sounded to me like Robert Lidle wanted you to not dig into his family too deeply under threat of him pulling their financial resources.”

Martinez sighed. “Yeah, that’s pretty much my take too. He’s going to be real pissed when I schedule an interview with him.”

“I’m guessing our friend Alan Goble gave him a quick call as soon as he shut the door in our face.”

“I guess he’s trying to keep his head off that silver platter.”

I grabbed my medical bag out of habit and pushed open the door and the wind caught it so it almost slammed closed on me. Even under the cover we could feel the spray of rain from the wind.

The front door was enormous, made of black metal and glass, and Plank pushed it in the center so it swiveled and opened a space almost as large as an entire wall.

“That’s quite a door,” Martinez said.

“Seems a little unnecessary,” I said as we walked inside.

“Maybe they need to let a lot of people in at one time,” Martinez said. “Like an army.”

“Or they need a new way to work on their upper body strength,” Plank said. “That door is heavy.”

“Did you just make a joke, Plank?” Martinez asked.

“It won’t happen again, sir.”

The response was so deadpan I couldn’t help but laugh. Plank was coming along. Another decade on the job and he’d be as smartass and cynical as the rest of the cops on the force.

The entire house seemed to be made of windows and black metal. The walls that were solid were white and covered with expensive art. I was afraid to touch anything. It looked like a museum. A cold, sterile museum with art that looked like it had been created by toddlers.

“The house manager and chef are in the kitchen,” Plank said. “No one else has attempted to contact us through the gate, and I’ve seen no other staff.”

“Where was Kitty Lidle found?” Martinez asked.

“Third floor,” Plank said, heading up the black metal stairs.

We followed him. There was a clear glass railing, but otherwise the stairs were open to the floors above and below.

“Well, these are terrifying,” I said, trying to keep my eyes from crossing so I could keep my footing.

“Just don’t look down,” Martinez said.

“Very helpful,” I said.

“Surely there’s an elevator in a place this size,” Martinez said.

“Oh, there is,” Plank said. “You can see the layout of the house better this way. And it’s good exercise.”

“I appreciate you looking out for us, Plank,” I said dryly, but it didn’t faze him.

“Mrs. Lidle was found in one of the kids’ rooms,” Plank said. “Once the EMTs cleared her out I sealed it off.”

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