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He’d moved to upstate New York only recently and I’d seen him from time to time at large charity events. He looked to be around my age. I hadn’t inquired where he’d come from or what sort of business he ran. Colton usually took care of acquiring new leads.
But from the little I’d heard over cocktails and at dinner parties, I wasn’t clamoring to get the know the man better. Yet, here I was, prepared to interrogate him.
Walking up the concrete steps, I noted at least three surveillance cameras capturing different angles. The doorbell was one of those with a camera as well. So, how was it that Laura could sneak up on the man? Was no one surveilling the cameras, or did he want her to enter his home?
A man in a gray suit, the jacket a little too long for him, opened the door.
“I’m here to see, Mr. Rossi.”
He opened the door further. I took it as an invitation to come inside.
The interior was darker than I’d expected. The floors were dark wood, the furniture black leather, and even the curtains seemed to be made of the same dark material. There were few windows inside to brighten the room and the art pieces on the walls were painted in deep red, brown, and black.
“Crawford,” a man drawled from the top of the stairs. He pulled on the cufflinks of his shirt and straightened his tie.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m here to talk to you about the incident last night. I should let you know I will be working with Laura on her case.”
“So, you’re here to interrogate me?”
Taken aback by his directness, I hesitated for only a moment.
“Yes.” Might as well be as direct right back.
He smiled and waved me to sit on one of the black leather sofas. The material was quite soft, definitely Italian leather. I rested my arm across the couch.
“So, tell me exactly what happened?”
He grinned. “As her lawyer, I’m sure you’ve already read the report.”
I returned his smirk. “I want to hear it from you.”
He leaned back in a wooden upholstered chair and stretched out his legs. He recounted the events of the previous night as though he was describing a usual occurrence in his home. No deflection of tone in his voice, no hesitation, no slip-up. His version of events matched exactly the report he’d given.
This man was no fool, nor an amateur, that much I figured.
“All right. There seems to be an issue with the missing gloves. Do you have any idea where those might be?”
“I do not. I would think that perhaps you should check with Laura’s father.”
My eyes narrowed. “Funny you should mention that. It’s exactly what Officer Brennon suggested. Has he called you?”
“No.”
They were hiding something.
“What was Laura’s father doing at your home?”
“He works some odd jobs for me.”
“Such as?”
“Sometimes he’s my driver, other times… he picks up items for me.”
My heart pounded at his slip-up. Had he asked her father to steal Luke’s baseball? Was it his idea?
“What sort of items?”
