every professional mom who wanted to have a poke with Sheriff Batts, I’d probably have herpes.”
The two women looked at each other, sharing a moment of annoyance.
“That’s not why we’re here either—” Jessie started to say before he cut her off too.
“Now you, I might take the risk and do,” he said, looking her up and down.
Jessie wasn’t sure whether to be more pissed at his aggressive ogling or his crass dismissal of Karen. Ultimately she decided not to indulge her anger about either.
“As flattering as that is, sir,” she said, “we’re with the police and we need you to answer a few questions.”
Jensen laughed.
“That’s a new one,” he said. “I kind of like it. Were you planning to read me my rights and then cuff me? Maybe you’re anticipating a rough interrogation, one that might get physical?”
Jessie could sense that Karen wanted to take this one and deferred to her.
“Detective Karen Bray,” she said, holding up her badge and ID with one hand as she casually pulled back her jacket to reveal the sidearm attached to her belt. “This is Jessie Hunt. She’s a criminal profiler. As she said, we have some questions for you. You can answer them here at your home, in your bathrobe. Or we can make this more formal down at the station. It’s your call, Mr. Jensen.”
He looked at Karen’s ID, then back at her unamused face before turning back to Jessie, who was equally taciturn.
“This is real?” he asked. “You’re not messing with me?”
“We’re not messing with you,” Jessie said, deciding to launch in before he got his wits about him. “We understand that you were at a party at the Otis Estate last night, is that correct?”
“What of it?” he demanded, recovering faster than she anticipated.
“What do you think of Jasper Otis?” she asked.
Jensen shrugged.
“Rich dude, generous. Keeps quality liquor and hot, young girls around. What’s not to like?”
“Ever see him lose his cool? Get angry?”
“I don’t know him that well,” Jensen said. “Why?”
“Did you run into any old acquaintances while you were there?” Karen wondered, jumping in quickly.
Jessie picked up on what the detective was hoping to do and liked the idea. By alternately peppering Jensen with questions, batting him back and forth like a tennis ball, she hoped to keep him off balance long enough to get something worthwhile out of him. It was worth a shot.
“It was a huge party. I knew lots of people there,” he said.
“What do you think of Millicent Estrada?” Jessie asked.
He stared at her curiously before answering.
“She’s a bitch.”
“Why do you say that?” Karen asked.
“Because she left me hanging just before I went to court on a bogus assault charge. She was supposed to be this superstar lawyer but when she got worried that she couldn’t win, she cut me loose. I ended up serving a hundred twenty-two days in prison, where I had to have three guards escort me from my solitary holding cell to the yard for workouts, all because there was a risk that another inmate might want to make me his personal trophy. So yeah, not a fan. Why?”
“She’s dead, Mr. Jensen,” Jessie said, watching him closely as she spoke. “And she was at the party last night. So we’re wondering if you ran into her at any point?”
His eyes went wide for a moment, though Jessie couldn’t tell whether it was shock at the news or fear at the unspoken accusation. Impressively, it only lasted a second before he regained his disdainful, gruff manner.
“I think you should talk to my lawyer. I had to get a new one, you know.”
“Are you sure that’s how you want to handle it, Mr. Jensen?” Karen asked, as if she was concerned for him. “We ask a simple question about your whereabouts and you immediately refer us to your lawyer?”
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know,” Karen said, “maybe a word of compassion about her loss? A question about how it happened? A firm denial that you saw her at any point? An offer to provide a list of people who were with you and could verify that you didn’t interact with her? Any of those, I could understand. But ‘talk to my lawyer’?” That tends to make us law enforcement types perk up.”
He looked at her imperviously.
“Hey, anything that makes you a little perkier is a plus, I’d say. You’re looking pretty run down, Detective.”
“Is that really the response you want to stick with?” Jessie asked, jumping in before Karen got the urge