Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
So they were closer than he’d insinuated. “Then what did you do?”
He shrugs. “I called out for Blythe, realized she wasn’t home yet, and so I went to the kitchen to get myself a drink.”
I pause, waiting. Years ago, I learned a good interviewing technique is to just pause and let people talk. Alexei stares at me, not saying a word. Perhaps he knows the same technique.
“Continue,” I prod curtly.
“Then I found Fairfax stabbed to death on the kitchen floor.” Alexei looks away as if remembering. “There was blood everywhere. So I took a step back, planning to leave, and the housekeeper walked in through the garage door, her arms full of groceries. She screamed, dropped the groceries, and ran back outside before I could stop her.”
I gulp. “What would you have done if you could have stopped her?”
“It doesn’t matter. The front door opened, and Blythe came in, running toward the kitchen after having heard the screams.”
“How do you know she wasn’t there before you?” I ask quickly.
He shrugs. “Her car wasn’t in the drive when I arrived but was when the police escorted me so nicely out.”
“Do you think she could have killed her husband and then cleaned it up?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. “It wouldn’t surprise me. She inherited his entire estate upon his death. If I recall, it was fairly lucrative.”
“Yeah, like millions.” I shake my head. “So the housekeeper called the police and what did you and Blythe do?”
“Blythe paled and almost passed out, so I took her into the other room and sat her down. Got us both a bourbon and we drank them quickly as we waited for the police.”
I reach for a file folder and flip it open. “Your fingerprints were found all over the counter and on the fridge.”
“No shit. I was there a lot.”
I turn a page. “The murder weapon was a knife from their utensil drawer. It was found thrown in the pond out back.”
He snorts. “I didn’t touch that knife that day, and I sure as hell didn’t throw it in the pond out back.”
“It has your fingerprints on it,” I say, reading through.
“Rosalie,” he says softly.
I look up at him.
“Do you really think I was stupid enough to leave my prints on a murder weapon and then throw it in a pond located on the estate of the deceased?”
I truly don’t, but maybe there hadn’t been time between the housekeeper calling the police and their arrival. I read through more notes. “Blythe said you left her while she was drinking her bourbon.”
He runs a rough hand through his hair. “I went to check on the housekeeper because she was shrieking at the top of her lungs, still in the garage. The woman had actually grabbed a mop to start cleaning up. I stopped her, I sat her down on the steps in the garage, and then I returned to check on Blythe and wait for the police.”
I read through the notes again. The investigating officer had been a Detective Battlement, and he had precise, neat penmanship. “So there was time for you to take a knife and throw it in the pond.”
“Sure,” Alexei agrees, “but like I said, I wouldn’t do that. That was stupid.”
“Maybe you panicked.”
His chin drops slightly, and he stares at me. “Unlikely.”
Alexei Sokolov does not seem like a man who would panic, even back then.
“If you didn’t kill him, who did?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it, Peaflower? I have a feeling we’re going to need to figure that out if we’re going to get anywhere with this.”
The man has a point. I reach for another file folder. “Let’s discuss the judge and the prosecuting attorney. Who could have bribed them?” I need to figure out exactly what they did to ensure Alexei’s conviction, and then I should investigate my colleague, Miles. “What do you think?”
Alexei shrugs. “That’s a long list. That would include everybody from my family to anybody I pissed off, to the rival social media company owners. We better unfreeze those funds fast.”
I nod. “We’re going to need more than one private investigator.”
He smiles. “All right. This has been productive. How about you and I go grab lunch now?”
There’s no doubt in my mind he does not mean lunch.
THIRTEEN
Alexei
Hot, red, poisonous biting ants are crawling beneath my skin, shredding layer after layer as they tunnel through my flesh. The elevator door opens, and I manacle Rosalie’s hand, yanking her into the quiet parking garage.
“Hey.” She tries to pull away, surprise in her tone.
I’m done. Finished being inside four walls. Any walls. We ordered lunch in and worked on my case until about five, and then my throat started to close. So I keep her hand. Her skin is soft and cool, calming enough to tether me to this world. For now.
“Alexei.” She sets her feet to stop me. “I forgot my phone upstairs.”