Page 43 of So Bleak

Faith turned to see a middle-aged woman rushing over to them as quickly as she could in her heels. “I’ll open the door,” she said. “No need to be boorish about it.”

Faith decided to let the comment pass and stood aside as the woman fumbled with her keys. “Honestly, I don’t understand why you couldn’t have just made an appointment.”

Michael was less patient than Faith. “That’s right. You don’t understand.”

The woman pursed her lips and refrained from further comment. She opened the door to an empty room. “There. Are you happy?”

Faith frowned. “Where’s Alex Ferris?”

The woman sighed. “I don’t know. I’m in sales. He’s with product quality. We work together, but only when he’s assigned to a tasting with a prospective client.”

“We need to talk to him now,” Faith said. “This is urgent.”

The woman lifted her hands and let them drop. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Where would he be if not here?” Faith demanded.

The saleswoman sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I guess… probably downstairs selecting vintages for the tasting. Usually, our sommeliers like to complete tastings before eight in the morning, but they run late sometimes."

“Where downstairs?”

“The cellar,” she replied, as though that should have been the most obvious thing on Earth. “It’s the first basement level.”

“Good enough,” Michael said. “Thank you.”

The three agents rushed back to the lobby and grabbed the first elevator. Faith and Michael checked their weapons as the elevator descended, just in case.

The door opened, and a very surprised-looking man around Michael’s age but of slighter build and with graying hair stared at the three of them in shock. He had two bottles of wine tucked under his jacket, and when he saw the FBI lettering on their vests, he clutched them more tightly and tried to hide their shape under the jacket.

“We need to speak with Alex Ferris,” Faith said.

The man blinked. “Wh… why do you need to speak with him?”

“He’s wanted for questioning in the deaths of Eleanor Crestwood, Harold Grimes and Lila Vance.”

“The deaths of… well… I’m sorry, but he’s not here.”

Faith’s eyes narrowed. “Really? Because we talked to two people who said he was.”

The man swallowed nervously. “Well, they were mistaken.”

“So if we check your ID right now, it won’t say Alex Ferris?”

The man paled. “I… I see no need to surrender my ID to you. You don’t have a search warrant, and you can’t just accost someone and demand that they identify themselves when they’re not suspected of a crime.”

“Murder in the first is a pretty serious crime,” Michael reminded him.

“What’s in your jacket?” Faith asked.

He paled further. “Nothing.”

“Nothing, huh? Nothing at all?”

The man swallowed. “You have no right to be here.”

“You can argue that all you want,” Faith replied. “But here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to check your ID, and we’re going to tell your employers that you’re walking out of here with two bottles of wine under your jacket.”

“I’m a sommelier here, I’m allowed to transport the product.”

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