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DeWitt staggered outside and shivered, pulling the collar of his coat closer to his neck. “Gonna snow.”
Savannah wanted to pepper him with questions but knew he would just keep playing games. DeWitt was all innuendo and bluster. Except he did know about the baby.
“What do you think you know about my sister?” she asked quietly.
“A helluva lot more than you do, or her husband does. I saw her there a coupla times. With him.”
“Does he have a name?”
“Calls himself Charlie when he’s trolling for a hot piece of ass,” he said. “A real rat bastard. She knew him, all right, and I do mean that in the biblical sense. I was there one night, looking around, feeling sick about the whole goddamn thing. Looking for the goddamn proof that they’re all wrong.”
“You were at Bancroft Bluff, checking out the integrity of the dune?” she asked, trying to keep up with his rambling talk.
“Didn’t I just say so? Hell. It’s all political, anyway. Somebody gets pissed at somebody, and they condemn the whole area just because they can.” He waved an arm. “It’s not my fault.”
She wasn’t going to point out the obvious, that, well, yes, it was his fault for ignoring the signs that the dune was sloughing into the sea. It was, in fact, his job. “You saw my sister there,” she said, prodding him.
“Sure did. He had her up against the wall. Banging her like crazy, and she was . . . man . . . in ecstasy. Head thrown back and first making these little kittenlike sounds and then screamin’! She was riding him and lovin’ it.” His smile was a leer.
Savvy fought back the urge to do him physical harm. She wanted to slap him silly, and he knew it, the bastard. “You saw my sister with someone in the Donatella house,” she reiterated.
“That’s what I’m telling you. Doing the dirty right against that same wall. The one that was painted with ‘blood money.’ You know.”
“Who is this Charlie?”
“I told ya. Good Time Charlie. You got questions, ask your sister. She knows him pretty good.”
A brisk wind ripped at Savvy’s jacket, and she pulled it tighter around her. “You saw Charlie and Kristina St. Cloud together at the Donatella house.”
“Why don’t you write it down, Detective?”
“Could you have been mistaken?”
“Look, I know you probably don’t want to believe that your sister’s screwing around on her husband, but I know what I saw. They were taking advantage of the fact that the Donatellas had skedaddled. Chickenshits. After they left the dune, everybody went. Oh, sure, they would pretend to be livin’ there, just to get people to stay, but it was a lie and everybody knew it. Fuckin’ scared they were gonna fall into the goddamn ocean.”
“Is Charlie connected to Bancroft Bluff?”
“He was fuckin’ the boss’s wife. Jesus, woman. How many ways I gotta say it? That’s as connected as you get!”
“Kristina picked the venue for this alleged rendezvous?”
“How would I know?” He glanced around. “Christ, it’s cold.”
Savvy looked up toward the darkening skies. She was going to have to get that room ASAP. “Where can I find this Charlie?”
DeWitt closed his eyes and lost his balance, taking a step backward before catching himself. “Stay away from him. That’s my advice to you, pregnant lady. Far, far away . . .”
“Where have you seen him around?”
He waved an expansive arm to encompass the whole world as a cab pulled up in front of the restaurant and he staggered forward to get the door. “Don’t charge me too much, man,” he whined to the cabbie as he climbed inside.
“What’s Charlie’s real name?” Savvy asked, raising her voice.
“Beelzebub,” he muttered, slamming the door behind him.
Savvy stared after the departing cab for a moment, fighting down a shiver. She thought DeWitt’s brain might be alcohol soaked, but he’d definitely put a chill in her soul, and the weather wasn’t helping. Walking back to her car, she placed a call to Kristina, whose phone went straight to voice mail again. Damn it all to hell. Where are you? Savvy hung up without leaving a message. Kristina would see she’d called from her missed-call list and maybe call her back.
Beelzebub, she thought. Ridiculous. If anyone was a devil, it was more likely Owen DeWitt himself.
