Festival of Deaths(73)

“They’re just strange.”

“That’s right. And I don’t like strange. Do you know what else I think is strange?”

“What?”

“The business with the wallet.”

“What business with the wallet?” Bennis cocked her head. “You mean the fact that Maximillian Dey had his wallet stolen before the show left New York?”

“It’s not just that Maximillian Dey got his wallet stolen,” Gregor said, rearranging his body on the chair and stretching out his legs. Bennis had very modern, very angular, very uncomfortable kitchen chairs. She also had very modern, very angular, very uncomfortable marble sculpture in her living room. Gregor often wondered how she could stand it.

“Think back to yesterday,” Gregor told her. “When we got to the studio, the first thing that happened was that we ran into Max, and he dropped—”

“Everything,” Bennis picked up. “I remember. All that stuff fell out of his pockets.”

“Right. Including his green card. I know his green card was there, because I picked it up off the floor and handed it to him.”

“Oh.” Bennis sat up straight. Her cigarette was out. She lit another. “I see what you’re getting at. Most people would keep their green cards in their wallets.”

“Like credit cards, yes,” Gregor said. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who had a green card who didn’t carry it in his wallet. Carrying it in a wallet simplifies things. People do forget their wallets at home but it’s rare. They remember because they need their money. And they’re careful with their wallets because they’re careful with their money. And since aliens residing in the United States must have their green cards on them at all time, wallets are the logical place to keep them.”

Bennis frowned. “Maybe it was just an idiosyncrasy,” she said. “Maybe he was just so paranoid about losing it, he kept it pinned to his underwear or something.”

“It’s laminated. But yes, I know what you mean. Somebody on The Lotte Goldman Show might know. Max might have mentioned it when he talked about getting his wallet stolen.”

“I think that DeAnna Kroll woman knows everything.” Bennis took another drag and blew out another stream of smoke. Gregor gave himself a measure of comfort by reminding himself that Bennis’s smoking always tapered off in the afternoon.

“You know what else I’m interested in finding out,” he said. “I’d like to know if that card was still on him after he was found dead.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? What good would a green card do anybody?”

“Maybe one of the staff on The Lotte Goldman Show is in the country illegally. Then a green card might do a good deal of good, if you could alter it, or knew somebody who could alter it, or knew somebody willing to trade it for a forgery.”

“Would they do that? Would a forger trade it for a forgery?”

“I don’t think so,” Gregor said. “It’s easier to forge those things from scratch. The real ones do have one characteristic the forged ones don’t, though. When you run their numbers through the INS computer, they check out.”

“That could be helpful in a pinch.”

“Mmmm. But what gets to me, Bennis, is that I’m sure I heard somebody say yesterday that Maximillian Dey’s pockets had been cleaned out. Cleaned out. Those were the exact words.”

“I’d think that was the kind of thing you’d pay attention to.”

“I had other problems on my mind at the time. John and I were discussing possible murder weapons. But it just doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe John and you should discuss it some more,” Bennis said.

Bennis still had a fair amount left of her cigarette. She stubbed it out in the ashtray anyway, then stood up and lit another. Then she turned her back on Gregor and went to the sink.

“I was thinking,” she said. “I’m a little burned out, you know what I mean? I’m a little stale. I thought maybe it might make sense if I got away for a little while.”

“Starting when?”

“Starting tomorrow. I made some phone calls last night. I can get Concorde tickets for the day after. Tomorrow morning I could go up to New York and do some shopping.”

“Concorde tickets to where?”

“Paris.”

“Bennis, it is not John Jackman’s fault. If it’s anybody’s fault, it’s mine.”

“You didn’t testify at the sentencing hearing.”

“I wasn’t asked to.”

“He testified at the sentencing hearing after I’d slept with him.”