Whiplash

Savich only nodded, watching Benson Hoffman's eyes go hot. Because Savich had made him look like a fool?

Aiden said, "When you called, I thought at first you wanted to ask us what we knew about Dana Frobisher, the woman who died at the restaurant. Then when you mentioned the vice president, we thought you must be trying to get some background, since Dad doesn't seem to want to talk to anyone except for calls from the hospital. He's taking this very hard. Our mom died three years ago, and now his longtime friend may die too, and he was driving Dad's car. I think Dad feels responsible."

Benson snorted. "He's mourning the car as much as Valenti. I hope he had it insured."

Aiden looked pained. He ignored his brother. "Look, Agent Savich, what can we tell you?"

"Why don't you tell me first about Dana Frobisher. Did you know her?"

Aiden shrugged. "We met her a few times at the house. Our mother worked with her on a charity board, and Mom talked about her quite a bit."

"Only at first," Benson said. "Then Mom didn't mention her again. I don't know what happened. We haven't seen her for what, Aiden, five years?"

Aiden nodded. "Something like that."

Savich said, "You said you've both known the vice president all your lives."

"That's right," Aiden said. "Valenti and our mother were very close once upon a time, high school sweethearts, the way she told it. When we were little, she'd tell us stories about adventures they'd had growing up, places they'd gone, then she'd look embarrassed and shut up. Later I heard her say that when Alex Valenti went off to Harvard and she went to Stanford, they didn't see each other much anymore, and that's when she met Dad."

Benson sat back in the uncomfortable chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and snorted. "I don't know why they let Mom into Stanford-on an academic scholarship-I mean, she never did anything with her degree, never made any money on her own. She did love her charities, though, joined every one she could find. Anyway, it's ancient history."

Aiden said, his eyes serious on Savich's face, "Alex Valenti and my mother kept up with each other, stayed friends, and after Ben and I were born, our families sort of merged."

"Yeah," Benson said, "the Valenti kids-always around, always welcomed by Mom whether we wanted them there or not."

Savich said easily, "I guess both of you know the Richards family as well?"

Benson said, "Oh yeah, we've all met. Even though Bowie's family's got tons of money, Bowie couldn't cut it, he ended up going to some police academy."

Aiden said, "Bowie's an FBI agent, Ben. He got promoted to Agent in Charge in the New Haven Field Office last year."

Benson shrugged again, a particularly irritating habit. "Yeah? Like you, Agent Savich? Well, I just know he's a putz. Maybe he didn't deserve what happened, but poor old Bowie ended up really getting the shaft, didn't he?"

"How's that?" Savich said.

Benson spit it right out with a smile. "Everybody put out his wife was killed in a plain old auto accident, and wasn't it tragic, but that wasn't what happened at all."

Savich realized he didn't want to know. This was private and had nothing to do with this case. He said, "Why don't we leave that for another time. What can you tell me about your father's best friend, Gabe Hilliard?"

"Another uncle forced down our throats," Benson said.

"He gave you a train set when you were eleven," Aiden said.

"Yeah, but after that, all he did was preach to us about the value of education. He was a pain in the butt, and now his son, Derek, is going to marry Dad's aide, Corliss. Isn't that a kick? I always thought Corliss wanted Uncle Gabe, not his dorky son."

Aiden said, "That's true. She's young enough to be his daughter, but when we've seen them together, there's this sort of embarrassment, you know? And they look at each other when they think no one else will notice. Old Uncle Gabe, I wonder what he thinks about Derek getting her rather than him."

Now this was interesting, Savich thought. "What about your relationship with your dad?"

"Our dad?" Benson said, a trimmed eyebrow shooting up at least a supercilious inch. "What do you want to know about that?"

"I understand your dad spoke to you about his odd midnight visitations," Savich said.

Benson snorted again, more contempt oozing out. "Oh, that. The visitations? Come on, I mean, get a grip here, Dad. Aiden and I could never figure out that little scam. He hasn't sung that song for a while now, I guess he's had his fun with us."