Widow's Walk Part 4

I went over it with him another time, and Belson tried him once. The story didn't change.

Finally Ann Kiley said, "I think it is clear that my client has told his story and he retells it consistently."

"I think you're right," I said.

"You'll speak to the district attorney," Ann Kiley said, "about my client's willingness to cooperate."

"Sure," Belson said.

As we walked to my car, I said to Belson, "Anything bother you?"

"Like what?" he said.

"Like an entry-level slu)o being represented by Kiley and Harbaugh," I said.

"Pro bono?" Belson said.

"You think?" I said.

"No."

"It bother you?"

"Sure it bothers me," Belson said. "And it bothers me that he got into the deal through a guy named Chuck whom we can't identify, and it bothers me that his story is so exactly the same every time. And it bothers me his lawyer let him keep talking about it with only my sort of casual comment that I'd speak to the DA."

"I noticed that myself," I said.

"However," Belson said, "sergeants don't get to be lieutenants by helping people unsolve a high-profile murder."

"True," I said.

"But, I'm not forgetting what I owe you... When Lisa was gone."

"That's not an owesie," I said.

"It is to me. I'll help you when I can."

"Mary Smith says she never hired this guy," I said.

"Mary Smith's an idiot," Belson said.

"Well," I said. "There's that."

CHAPTER FIVE.

Larson Graf faxed me an invitation list with the names of Mary Smith's 227 closest friends, in alphabetical order. I recognized enough of the names to a.s.sume that these weren't people who hung out at bowling alleys.

The first one I was able to talk with was a guy named Loren Bannister, who was the CEO of an insurance company. He probably thought I was a prospect.

"Mary Smith?" he said.

"Yes, sir. Your name was high on her list."

"Maybe because the list was alphabetical," he said.

Bannister was square-jawed and silver-haired with a nice tan. He was in full uniform. Dark suit, white shirt, gold cuff links, red tie with tiny white dots.

"You're too modest," I said.

"Um-him. I a.s.sume this is connected with Nathan Smith's death?"

"Yes."

"She really kill him?" Bannister said.

"No."

"And you work for Cone Oakes?"

"Yes."

"Barry Cone called me," Bannister said. "How can I help you?"

"Tell me about Mary Smith."

"Well, I don't know her very well," Bannister said. "I knew Nathan a little."

"They seem happy to you?"

"Sure. I guess so. She was younger. As I said, I'd see them now and then, at charity events, mostly."

"Did you know them socially?"

"In the sense that we would go out to dinner with them? No."

"Do you know Larson Graff?"

"Graff?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe so. Who is he?"

"He's Mary Smith's PR man."

Bannister smiled. "Oh," he said. "Him."

"You know him?"

"I didn't know his name," Bannister said. "Mary is at a lot of affairs without Nathan. Whatsisname escorts her."

"Did your company insure the Smiths?"

"I don't really know," Bannister said. He smiled. "I don't do much direct selling."

"Could you find out?" I said.

"Does it say CEO on my door?" he said. "Of course I could find out."

"Would you?"

Bannister looked as if he might say no. But instead he picked up his phone.

"Allison? Please find out if we have policies on Nathan Smith or Mary Smith." He looked at me. "Address?"

I gave him the address and he repeated it to Allison.

"Get back to me promptly," he said and hung up. He seemed confident that he would be gotten back to promptly.

"Aside from walker duties," I said, "would you know why Mary Smith would need a public relations person?"

"No."

"Who would know?" I said.

Bannister leaned back in his swivel chair and clasped his hands behind his head.

"Barry Cone's a buddy of mine," Bannister said. "He asked me to talk with you. I'm happy to do so. But I don't get why you're talking to me. I don't really know Mary Smith. I don't know who would know about her. I say h.e.l.lo to her at c.o.c.ktail parties that I go to because being prominent is part of my job."

"And Nathan Smith?"

"See him at the Harvard Club once in a while," Bannister said. "Knew him casually. He was a player."

"A player?"

"Yes. In the money business."

"What did he do?" I said.

Bannister smiled. "He fiddled with money."

"How?"

"Like everybody else," Bannister said. "He bought and he sold."

"Stocks and bonds?"

"And real estate, and banks, and, for all I know, lottery tickets."

"Who would know more about him?" I said.

Bannister shrugged. "His attorney. His broker. His doctor. His priest? I don't know how to make this clearer. I don't really know either one of them."

The phone rang and Bannister answered. He listened, made a couple of notes, said thank you, and hung up.

"We have a whole-life policy on Nathan Smith," he said.

"How much?"

Bannister hesitated only a moment. "Ten million dollars," he said.

"There's some premiums to pay," I said.

"Not as much as you might think," Bannister said. "It was taken out for him at birth, by his grandfather."

"Beneficiary?"

"Mary Smith."

I didn't say anything. Bannister had tilted back in his chair again and reclasped his hands.

"That doesn't help your cause," Bannister said.

"Not much," I said. "Can I get a copy of the policy?"

"It's confidential."

"Yeah, but you and Barry Cone are buddies."

Bannister smiled. "I'll have somebody run it off and FedEx it over," he said. "May I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Why, if you are trying to clear Mary Smith, are you investigating Mary Smith?"

"I have nowhere else to investigate," I said. "Think of it as cold-canva.s.sing."

Bannister smiled. "I never sold insurance," he said. "My last job was at Pepsi-Cola."

"Management is management," I said.

Bannister nodded and smiled. "Good luck with the cold canva.s.s," he said.