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Authors: Rhonda Pollero
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say?”
I told him about my lunch with Becky, Liv, and Jane. “But I didn’t give them any details because I didn’t have any. I just told them about Liam being shot.”
“From now on, keep your mouth shut. You talk only to me, understand?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll see you at eight.”
I stood and walked to the doorway, then turned back. “Tony?”
“Yes?”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Save your apologies for Victor Dane. If the shit hits the fan, he’ll want your head on a pike.”
It was 7:05 and I was already dressed for work and sitting at my counter sipping coffee and listening to Roxanne Stein on the morning news. The photo of Liam in his uniform was in a small box off to the right of the news anchor. The story seemed to be the highlight of the early morning newscast. They were still asking for the public’s help, only now they included a description and the license plate number of his Mustang.
I was reminded of his remark about a woman hiding the car in her garage and giving him a lift to my place. Ashley, maybe, but that was an awfully big risk. Questioning the ex-wife was almost a given under these circumstances. It wouldn’t have been a very prudent idea to stash his car at her place.
The outside lights automatically came on and I heard a car in the driveway. It couldn’t be Liam, he was supposed to be meeting Tony. It wouldn’t be my mother, she didn’t do mornings. I got up and peeked out the window. It was a white sedan with blackwall tires. A cop car. Great.
I answered the doorbell with an anxious smile on my face. Two men stood on my porch, their expressions blank and stern at the same time.
“Miss Tanner? Finley Tanner? I’m Detective Metcalf and this is Detective Wells,” he said as they simultaneously flashed their IDs in my direction. “We have a few questions about Liam McGarrity. May we come in?”
I tried to dawn an air of innocence as I pulled the door open and invited them in. “Would you like some coffee?” I asked.
“Sure.”
I waved my hand to the sofa and said, “Please sit. Black, cream, sugar?”
“Black,” Metcalf said.
“Cream for me, ma’am.”
I hated being called ma’am, especially by a guy who looked to be about my age. Wells was the younger of the two. Thirtyish, with auburn hair and a very pale complexion that included a row of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Metcalf was the more senior of the two. I put him somewhere in his fifties, with a bald head and piercing green eyes that followed me like a tractor beam as I moved around the kitchen.
I refreshed my own coffee, then carried all three mugs to the living room. “Sorry I don’t have any pastries or doughnuts. I’m not a breakfast eater.”
“Not all cops crave doughnuts,” Wells said with a fairly genuine smile.
My cheeks warmed slightly at the stereotype and I giggled nervously. Lucky for me they didn’t know me, so I didn’t think they would be able to tell that nervous was my new middle name.
Metcalf spoke while Wells took notes.
“I understand you know Liam McGarrity?”
“Yes. For about two years. He does PI work for my firm.”
“Dane, Lieberman, and Caprelli?”
“Yes. I’m a paralegal there. I’ve worked for them for eight years.” It dawned on me that I was not following Tony’s instructions to speak to no one. Only I couldn’t think of a more obvious way to look guilty than to invoke my right to have counsel present during questioning. Did I want the wrath of Tony or the wrath of the cops? I decided the cops were worse.
“Have you had contact with Mr. McGarrity in the last twenty-four hours?”
Shit.
“As far as I know, he hasn’t contacted my firm.” Not a lie, Tony called him .
“We have information that your relationship with Mr. McGarrity is of a more personal nature. Didn’t the two of you recently take a trip out of town?”
“May I ask who told you that?”
“Mr. McGarrity’s ex-wife. Could you answer the question,
I told him about my lunch with Becky, Liv, and Jane. “But I didn’t give them any details because I didn’t have any. I just told them about Liam being shot.”
“From now on, keep your mouth shut. You talk only to me, understand?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll see you at eight.”
I stood and walked to the doorway, then turned back. “Tony?”
“Yes?”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Save your apologies for Victor Dane. If the shit hits the fan, he’ll want your head on a pike.”
It was 7:05 and I was already dressed for work and sitting at my counter sipping coffee and listening to Roxanne Stein on the morning news. The photo of Liam in his uniform was in a small box off to the right of the news anchor. The story seemed to be the highlight of the early morning newscast. They were still asking for the public’s help, only now they included a description and the license plate number of his Mustang.
I was reminded of his remark about a woman hiding the car in her garage and giving him a lift to my place. Ashley, maybe, but that was an awfully big risk. Questioning the ex-wife was almost a given under these circumstances. It wouldn’t have been a very prudent idea to stash his car at her place.
The outside lights automatically came on and I heard a car in the driveway. It couldn’t be Liam, he was supposed to be meeting Tony. It wouldn’t be my mother, she didn’t do mornings. I got up and peeked out the window. It was a white sedan with blackwall tires. A cop car. Great.
I answered the doorbell with an anxious smile on my face. Two men stood on my porch, their expressions blank and stern at the same time.
“Miss Tanner? Finley Tanner? I’m Detective Metcalf and this is Detective Wells,” he said as they simultaneously flashed their IDs in my direction. “We have a few questions about Liam McGarrity. May we come in?”
I tried to dawn an air of innocence as I pulled the door open and invited them in. “Would you like some coffee?” I asked.
“Sure.”
I waved my hand to the sofa and said, “Please sit. Black, cream, sugar?”
“Black,” Metcalf said.
“Cream for me, ma’am.”
I hated being called ma’am, especially by a guy who looked to be about my age. Wells was the younger of the two. Thirtyish, with auburn hair and a very pale complexion that included a row of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Metcalf was the more senior of the two. I put him somewhere in his fifties, with a bald head and piercing green eyes that followed me like a tractor beam as I moved around the kitchen.
I refreshed my own coffee, then carried all three mugs to the living room. “Sorry I don’t have any pastries or doughnuts. I’m not a breakfast eater.”
“Not all cops crave doughnuts,” Wells said with a fairly genuine smile.
My cheeks warmed slightly at the stereotype and I giggled nervously. Lucky for me they didn’t know me, so I didn’t think they would be able to tell that nervous was my new middle name.
Metcalf spoke while Wells took notes.
“I understand you know Liam McGarrity?”
“Yes. For about two years. He does PI work for my firm.”
“Dane, Lieberman, and Caprelli?”
“Yes. I’m a paralegal there. I’ve worked for them for eight years.” It dawned on me that I was not following Tony’s instructions to speak to no one. Only I couldn’t think of a more obvious way to look guilty than to invoke my right to have counsel present during questioning. Did I want the wrath of Tony or the wrath of the cops? I decided the cops were worse.
“Have you had contact with Mr. McGarrity in the last twenty-four hours?”
Shit.
“As far as I know, he hasn’t contacted my firm.” Not a lie, Tony called him .
“We have information that your relationship with Mr. McGarrity is of a more personal nature. Didn’t the two of you recently take a trip out of town?”
“May I ask who told you that?”
“Mr. McGarrity’s ex-wife. Could you answer the question,
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