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“Nothing really. Just a shot in the dark. After all, if you knew something about Thompson and leveraged that, it could explain why suddenly opposition to your resort vanished into thin air.”
“I prefer to think people realized the resort would be good for the area.”
“I’ll bet you do,” said Jessica.
“If that’s all, I have things to do,” said Martin, turning away.
“Just one thing, Mr. Martin,” said Thorn, “where were you at the time of Mr. Thompson’s murder?”
“I don’t know what time that was, but yesterday I was testifying before the State Legislature regarding the archaic gambling laws in this state. To and from, I hired a car and driver so it should be easy to confirm my alibi. My secretary can get you any information you might need. Now, like I said, I’m a busy man. If you want to talk to me again, call my lawyer and arrange for a meeting. I don’t like being ambushed.”
With that, he spun on his heel, almost went down, and had to stumble forward to keep from falling flat on his face. Not the most graceful exit.
“Charming fellow,” said Thorn.
“That’s one word for him.”
“Want to explain what he was sniping at you about?”
“Not really, but I will tonight. I really want to see what Councilwoman Griffin has to say.”
“Do you think your shot in the dark hit a bullseye?” She nodded; he smiled. “So do I. And his information about a traveling gentleman’s club would corroborate what Sophie had to say.”
“Didn’t you believe her?” Jessica asked, as he helped her into her vehicle.
“I did, but the State would need more than just her word. There have been rumors about a sex trafficking ring for a couple of years, but nothing we could sink our teeth into. This might just be the thing that opens the floodgates. Let’s go see what Selma has to say.”
They drove back to Selma’s stately house on its teeny, tiny lot and were whisked inside before they even had time to knock.
“We want protection and immunity,” she said without preamble.
“There’s no way I can promise you either until I know what we’re talking about, and who ‘we’ might be.”
“‘We’ are Selma and I,” said a lovely, older woman as she walked out of Selma’s formal living room. “Calm down, Selma. We talked about this. Detective Wilder? I’m Barbie Addison. Jessica, it’s nice to see you again.”
“You too, Barbie.”
Seeming to have recovered her composure, Selma gestured toward the formal living room. “Why don’t we go in here to sit.”
Barbie laughed. “Don’t be such a priss, Selma. Let’s go into the kitchen. Everyone can have some coffee and a cupcake or three, and we can talk like civilized adults. After all, it’s going to be a long talk, but I do believe, Detective Wilder,” she said, linking her arm through his, “it will be well worth it. Jessica might get a lot out of it, too. They always say be careful what you say to, about or around authors, as it all becomes grist for their mill of creativity.”
Barbie led him to the back of the house where the kitchen was located with Selma and Jessica following in their wake.
“Take a seat, Detective. Who’d like what to drink?”
Barbie distributed the drinks--coffee, tea, and a Diet Coke to Jessica.
“So what’s this all about Ms. Addison?” asked Thorn.
“Barbie, please. Being Ms. Addison gets tiring after a while.”
“The question remains the same, Barbie.”
“The short answer is Lorelei.”
“The sea siren?” asked Jessica.
“Not the one from German mythology, but a sex and blackmail ring that goes by that name.”
