“Dutch Burton. What’s your read on him?”
“Extremely sensitive to criticism. Even when it’s only implied, he immediately gets his back up.”
“The common reaction of one who perpetually fails and/or has low self-esteem. What else, Hoot?”
“He wants to get his former wife away from Ben Tierney, more from rank jealousy than a conviction that Tierney is Blue. He’s reacting like a man, not an officer of the law.”
Begley beamed at him as though he were a prodigy who’d given the correct answer to a trick question. “What did Perkins unearth about the lady?”
While waiting for Chief Burton to arrive at Ritt’s store, Hoot had used the pay phone to call the Charlotte office. He had his laptop with him, of course, but the computers in the office had faster and better access to more extensive information networks. He’d asked Perkins to see what he could find on Burton’s ex and had warned his counterpart that Begley was in a hurry to get the information.
Perkins had said, “Damn. Okay. Give me ten.” He’d called back in under five.
“She’s editor in chief of a magazine called Smart,” Hoot told Begley now.
“You’re shitting me,” he exclaimed.
“No, sir.”
“Mrs. Begley swears by that magazine. I’ve seen her spend a weekend with an issue. She redecorated our living room to match one she saw in it. Are you married, Hoot?”
The sudden question gave him a start. “Sir? Oh. No, sir.”
“Why not?”
He wasn’t opposed to the idea. In fact, he favored it. The problem was finding a woman who wouldn’t become bored with him and his ordered life. That had been the pattern with him and women. There would be a few dates, some of them overnighters, before he and the woman drifted apart for lack of enthusiasm.
Recently he’d begun exchanging e-mail with a woman he’d met on the Internet. She lived in Lexington and was pleasant to “talk” to. She didn’t know he worked for the FBI. Women were often more infatuated with the macho image of the bureau than with him. All Karen—that was her name—knew of his work was that it involved computers. Miraculously, she was still interested.
Their last chat had lasted an hour and thirty-eight minutes. She actually had him sitting at his computer in his immaculate home office laughing out loud over an anecdote involving her one and only attempt to save money by coloring her own hair. She assured him that the disastrous result had been remedied in a salon and had been worth every penny spent on it. It had got him to thinking that maybe he needed a little zaniness in his life.
More than once she had mentioned to him how pretty Kentucky was in the spring. If that lead-in resulted in an invitation for him to come and see the splendor of a Kentucky spring for himself, he would seriously consider going. He got nervous thinking about meeting her face-to-face, but it was a good kind of nervousness.
Hoping that Begley couldn’t see the flush he felt in his cheeks, he said stiffly, “My focus the last few years has been the pursuit of my career, sir.”
“Fine, well, and good, Hoot. But that’s your job, not your life. Work on that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mrs. Begley keeps me sane and happy. Don’t know what I’d do without her. I’d like you to meet her sometime.”
“Thank you, sir. It would be an honor.”
“Lilly Martin. It’s safe to assume that she’s a savvy lady?”
Hoot’s brain tried to shift tracks with the agility of Begley’s. “Yes, sir.
She holds dual degrees in art and journalism. Started out as a gofer at another magazine and came up through the ranks to her current position. Perkins passed along some websites we can look at later. He said photos show her to be quite attractive.”
He cast a glance at Begley before continuing. “And there was something else, sir. About Ben Tierney. Perkins said that on one of his credit card statements there was a charge to a catalog that sells paramilitary gear. He purchased a transponder and a pair of handcuffs.”
“Jesus Christ. How long ago?”
“The charge was on his August statement.”
Begley thoughtfully tugged on his lower lip. “Mr. Elmer told us that Tierney had met Lilly Martin last summer.”
“And that he was attracted to her.”