A huddled mass of reporters shouted questions at the car. Flashes from cameras and cell phones were bright in the grey afternoon hours. Brock gave their names and purpose of visit. The guard removed a metal barrier and they drove through the mob. He stopped the car, shoved the gear selector into Park and leaned back in the seat. The heater blew a steady stream of warm air as sleet pelted the windshield. Kallie leaned toward him to take in the grand manor in front of them until the glovebox door spontaneously dropped on her knees. "You realize this car can be condemned, right?" Kallie shoved the glovebox closed again.
"Push it to the right. It'll catch. She's a damn good car."
"I'll take your word on that. At least the heater works." Kallie put her hands up in front of the dash vent. Her phone vibrated and she glanced at the screen. Her body tensed and she shook her head before she pocketed the phone. Kallie took a deep breath and asked, “So, because I'm curious, at what point in this interview do we plan on bringing up the fact we know about Samuel’s polyamorous relationship?” He rolled his eyes toward his new partner. “Can you say awkward?” She crossed her eyes and he chuckled.
“Helluva ace up our sleeve. Let’s start with the basics and go from there.” He glanced out his window. “Fuck, it looks like it’s going to snow for real.”
He reached for the keys and turned off the ignition as they exited the car. The exposed brick driveway meandered back toward the massive grand entry for the mansion. White columns held a portico three floors high. Windows with black shutters flanked the immense double oak door. As they approached, the door opened. They reached for their identification, flashing their badges at the individual who opened the door.
Kallie spoke for them. “Detective Redman and Detective King, Hope City homicide. We have an appointment with Ms. Miriam Treyson.”
“Yes. Mrs. Treyson is expecting you. She’s in the library. Please follow me.”
The smallish gentleman trundled across the expansive entryway. He was sure there was a special name for the type of tile he was walking on, but the only thing he registered was… expensive. An enormous crystal chandelier hung over a dining table twice the size of his mother’s. A riotous display of flowers sat in the middle. There were probably a thousand dollars worth of petals in that damn thing. What a waste. Not that he minded flowers. Hell, he made sure he sent his mom flowers every year for her birthday and Mother’s Day. But this? Talk about overkill.
The little man opened another set of double doors. Mrs. Treyson and five men wearing matching ‘I’m important’ suits swiveled at their entrance. Once again, he and Kallie flipped up their identification.
He did the introductions this time. “Mrs. Treyson, Detectives Redman and King. We’d like to talk to you about your husband’s murder.”
The woman dabbed at her eyes and sniffled as she nodded. One of the men stood and extended his hand toward Kallie. “James Masters, the Treysons’ lead attorney. We will be happy to assist you in this investigation. You may ask anything, within reason. All correspondence and requests should be routed through my office, of course.”
“Of course,” he mumbled under his breath. Kallie sent him a look. She was a sharp one.
“Detectives, please, may we take your coats?” Miriam Treyson looked toward her… hell, he guessed the guy was a butler. Both he and Kallie waved the little guy off. They sat down in the two empty seats across from Mrs. Treyson and her wall of lawyers. They both retrieved their notebooks and leaned forward. Weird that they’d be in sync in their movements and actions already.
“Mrs. Treyson —” Kallie began.
“Please, call me Miriam.” The woman reached for another tissue and Brock took the opportunity to inspect the woman in front of him. She was the one in the picture in Samuel’s wallet. She was indeed beautiful. However, today, her eyes were swollen and ringed with black circles that her perfectly done makeup couldn’t hide.
Her hand shook as she dabbed at the tears in her eyes.
Kallie nodded in response to her request. “Please, tell me, Miriam, where were you last night between the hours of —”
“Don’t answer that!” At least three of the five lawyers spoke simultaneously.
He leaned back and chuckled.
“Excuse me, Detective, do you find something funny about the situation?” Mr. Masters hissed.
Brock leaned forward. He should let that