“You,” Wilde said.
Oren nodded.
“So they came to you.”
“Yes.”
“And you betrayed her attorney-client privilege.”
“First off, you’re not a client, Wilde. You don’t pay her. You’re a friend.”
Wilde frowned. “For real?”
“Yes, for real. But second of all, and far more important, Hester didn’t tell me it was you. I didn’t ask her. I didn’t overhear her. I didn’t obtain the information that you were the client in question in an illegal way. I surmised that you were the client that Hester was unethically protecting independently of my private relationship with her.”
Wilde just shook his head.
Oren leaned forward. “Let’s say this happened before Hester and I started dating. The Hartford cops come to me and say, ‘That slick New York attorney from your hometown is protecting someone who broke into the house of a murdered cop, do you have any guesses who that might be?’ My educated guess, even back then, would have been you, Wilde.”
“Nice,” Wilde said.
“Nice what?”
“Self-rationalization. ‘If I didn’t know what I did know I might have known what I said I knew.’”
“I made a miscalculation,” Oren said.
“You gave them my name, right?”
“I did, yes, but I also made it clear that you and I were close. I told them I’d sit down with you and ask you to cooperate because you weren’t the type to want a killer to go free. I never imagined they’d go rogue.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Even when the victim is ‘one of their own’?”
Oren nodded. “Fair enough. Look, Wilde, I want to know who did this to you. I want them to be punished.”
“That won’t happen,” Wilde said. “They blacked out their license plates. They put a bag over my head, so I never saw their faces. They did it on a quiet part of the street with no cameras. Even if I could figure out who they were, it would be my word against theirs. They knew what they were doing.” Wilde took a sip and stared at Oren over the glass. “And you know how cops stick together.”
“Damn. I’m really sorry.”
Wilde waited. He knew what was coming. He just needed to turn it in his favor.
“But you need to listen to me,” Oren said.
And here it comes, Wilde thought.
“A cop, a father of three, has been murdered. You have pertinent information. You just can’t hide from that. You have a responsibility to come forward.”
Wilde considered his next move. Then he asked, “Did the cops search McAndrews’s computer?”
“They’re working on it,” Oren replied. “It’s pretty sophisticated security and there’s a lot on it. What should they be looking for?”
“How about we share?”
“Share what?” Oren said.
“You tell me what the police know about McAndrews’s murder,” Wilde said. “Based on that, I tell you what I think you should do or look into.”
“Are you serious?”
“You have other options,” Wilde said. “For example, you could ask your colleagues to torture me again.”
Oren closed his eyes.
Wilde was furious, but at the end of the day, he wanted whoever killed Henry McAndrews caught. If Wilde had information that could help find the murderer, so be it. He wanted to find Peter Bennett, not protect him.
“I went to McAndrews’s house,” Wilde said, “because I was searching for someone.”
“Who?” Oren asked.
“Peter Bennett. He’s a missing reality star, assumed dead.”
Oren made a face. “Why are you looking for him?”
Wilde saw no reason not to answer. “I put my name in a DNA genealogy site. He came back as related to me.”
“Wait. As in...?”
“Yeah, I’m trying to figure out how I ended up in the woods. I know you’ve been pushing me for a long time to do it. So I did.”
“And?”
“And I found my dad. He lives outside of Las Vegas.”
“What?” Oren’s eyes widened. “What did he say?”
“It’s a long story, but it’s a dead end. So I tried again, this time with a relative on my biological mother’s side.”
“And this reality star—”
“Peter Bennett.”
“He’s related to your mother?”
“Yes. But after he contacted me, he went missing.”
“What do you mean, missing?”
“You can Google his name and get all the details,” Wilde said. “He’s famous. If he’s involved in this murder, I want him captured. There is no love or blood loyalty here. My only self-interest in locating him is to learn more about my birth mother.”
“So you’re searching for this Peter Bennett and somehow you end up on McAndrews?”
“Right.”
“And that’s why you broke into his house?”
“I thought it was empty.”
“So if that’s all true, why didn’t you just come forward? Why have Hester make the call?”
Wilde just looked at him. “You can’t be that dense.”
“I know your breaking into the house might look bad—”
“Might look bad. Come on, Oren. You know how it would look.”
Oren nodded, seeing it now. “I do. An eccentric loner — no offense, Wilde—”
Wilde gestured to indicate none was taken.
“—breaks into a cop’s house and that cop ends up dead.”
“I’d never get a fair shake.”
“You could have come to me.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You’re the most trustworthy cop I know,” Wilde said, “and look at how you bent the rules when it came to finding a cop killer.”
Oren winced. “I guess I deserve that.”
Enough, Wilde thought. It was time to press ahead. “McAndrews was a cop, right?”
“Retired, yes.”
“Most cops still work after they retire. What did he do?”
“He was a private investigator.”
Just as Wilde had expected. “On his own or with a big firm?”
“What difference does it make?” Oren saw Wilde’s face and sighed. “On his own.”
“Did he specialize?”
“I don’t feel comfortable talking about that,” Oren said.
“And I still feel like vomiting from being shocked repeatedly with a cattle prod,” Wilde said. “I’m assuming from your answer that McAndrews’s work was on the sketchy side.”
Oren thought about it. “You think his work life had something to do with his murder?”
“I do, yes. What did he specialize in?”
“Most of McAndrews’s work would be charitably labeled ‘corporate security.’”
“And uncharitably?”
“Trashing the competition online.”
“Explain,” Wilde said.
“You and Hester had dinner tonight at Tony’s, right?”
“What does that—?”
“Let’s say your town has an established favorite pizzeria. You, Wilde, decide to open a competing one nearby. Problem is, people are loyal to Tony’s. So how do you cut into Tony’s customer base in the modern era?”
Wilde said, “I assume the answer is you trash the competition.”
“Exactly. You hire a guy like McAndrews. He creates fake accounts — bots — that post bad reviews of Tony’s. They flood certain websites with rumors about bad sanitation or spoiled food or rude service. Whatever. That would, of course, lower Tony’s ratings on Yelp and wherever else people check reviews. The bots might casually mention that a new pizzeria in town is much better — and then other fake accounts would join in and, ‘Yeah, that new place is awesome’ or ‘They have the best thin crust.’ Like I said, this example is small-time. But corporations are doing this on a large scale too.”