Slow Kill - Michael Mcgarrity [88]
It was a large crowd of two hundred or more people. Behind the hearse, cars parked on the winding gravel lane stretched almost to the cemetery entrance. Outside the arched, open gate, private security personnel held back photographers with telephoto lenses who were pressed against the ornate wrought iron fence taking pictures.
“We may have a long wait before the last of Spalding’s guests clear out after the wake,” Ellie said to Lieutenant Macy.
Macy nodded. “I’m more concerned right now about the paparazzi. We need them contained and kept away from the estate.”
Ellie had been out of touch with Macy for the past three hours, scoping out the situation in Montecito, making arrangements, and putting her team in place.
“Spalding’s rent-a-cops will keep them at the bottom of the hill, and the Santa Barbara PD, at Claudia’s request, will be on hand to assist.”
“Do they know what’s going down?”
“No, I called the estate posing as a newspaper reporter and got the information from an employee. She also told me that invited guests would be screened at the entrance to the estate by private security.”
“How do we make sure Spalding doesn’t slip away in the backseat of a guest’s car?” Macy asked.
“Claudia has hired a valet parking service for the wake. One of our detectives will be an attendant.”
“Valet parking for a wake,” Macy said in mock disbelief. “How did you manage that?”
“Plus catered food for the guests by a celebrity chef,” Ellie said. “I talked to the man who owns the service, flashed my shield, told him I was with dignitary protection for a high-ranking government official, and got him to agree to the substitution. He thinks we’re feds and it’s all very hush-hush.”
“Clever,” Macy said.
“Security at the entrance will use the keypad gate opener to let the guests through. We’ll use it after they leave to make a quick entry.”
“You have the code?”
“I got it from the fire department,” Ellie answered. “A local ordinance requires owners of all gated residences to provide emergency access information to the department.”
Ellie watched Claudia step away from the crowd, place the bouquet on her husband’s coffin, bow her head, and clutch a hand to her throat.
“She’s very good,” Ellie said, still wondering what it would take to break the woman down.
“Let’s go,” Macy said as people started drifting away toward the waiting cars. The young children, released from their mothers’ sides, eagerly skipped ahead of their slow-moving parents and skirted around the tombstones.
After the last guest had left and the caterers and parking attendants were gone, Ellie went up to the estate alone. She found Claudia on the patio seated in a lawn chair next to the pool.
“I don’t recall your name on the guest list,” Spalding said. “How did you get in here?”
Spalding’s modest black designer dress, with a high scooped neckline, half sleeves, and the hem just below the knees, fit her perfectly. She stood, walked to the pergola, poured whiskey into a tumbler, and held it in both hands.
Everything about her was smooth and polished. She glanced at Ellie intently without a hint of uneasiness.
“I know this probably isn’t the best time to talk,” Ellie said.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Claudia replied.
“Would you rather I come back some other time?”
“Don’t play games with me, Sergeant. Coming to see me now, at this time, goes beyond rudeness and bad manners. Tell me how you got in or leave.”
“A security guard let me in,” Ellie said.
A thin smile stretched across Claudia’s lips. “I rather doubt that.” She put the tumbler down. “Say what you need to and then go.”
Ellie waved her off. “Never mind. It can wait.”
“Another little trick, Sergeant?” Claudia asked. “Are you trying to make me anxious and curious about what brought you here? If so, you’re being much too transparent. Let me show you out.”
Ellie followed Spalding through the sunroom, down the hallway with the walls of paintings, into the enormous living