Page 27 of The Perfect Poise

The man was shorter than he seemed in photos or on TV. Jessie guessed that he was about five-foot-seven. He appeared to be in great shape for his age—trim and muscular. She took particular note of his tightly cropped brown hair, which looked slightly damp.

Inside the office was a surprisingly small glass desk with a tablet and keyboard resting on it. Other than those two items, a remote control, and an old-timey 1930's era phone, it was spotless. Along the back wall, which was exposed brick on the bottom and expansive windows on top, was a weight set rack comprised of dumbbells and kettlebells. In the far corner were an elliptical machine, a rowing machine, and a treadmill. Blackwell pressed a button on the remote, and they heard a soft click. Brandy opened the door for them.

“Come on in,” Blackwell called out agreeably, as if he was welcoming old friends over.

Jessie and Ryan exchanged a mildly surprised look but said nothing as they entered, initially followed by the rest of the entourage.

“Actually,” Blackwell said, holding up a hand. “I know this office looks big but maybe we can keep it to essential personnel only. Mr. Clingan, you and your team can wait outside if that’s all right. And I’m happy to have my personal security officers wait out there as well if your officers would do the same.”

“I’m afraid the officers go where we go,” Ryan insisted.

“Understood,” Blackwell said, unfazed. “Then I guess I’ll keep my fellas in here too, just so I don’t feel too overwhelmed.”

Jessie almost chuckled. Marcus Blackwell was one of the least overwhelmed people she could remember encountering. He seemed completely at ease in what should have been an unsettling situation. In fact, he seemed to enjoy unsettling situations.

“Fine by me,” Ryan said with a shrug, giving the impression that this scenario was an everyday one for him too.

“So what can I do for you, Detective Hernandez?” Blackwell asked after the glass door clicked shut again and the windows re-frosted, notably naming Ryan even though he hadn’t identified himself yet. “You and Ms. Hunt are a long way from Homicide Special Section’s headquarters back at Central Station.”

“Did we catch you at a bad time?” Ryan asked, pointing at Blackwell’s hair. “It looks like you just got out of the shower.”

“Actually, it wasn’t too long ago,” Blackwell conceded. “I just worked out and felt icky, what with all the sweat. So what’s this all about? Don’t tell me the guy at the Aston Martin dealership really filed a complaint. I figured he was just blowing off steam when he threatened to do that. Maybe I got a little enthusiastic on the test drive, but I brought the car back in one piece.”

“This isn’t about that,” Ryan replied.

“Then I assume it’s about the crack I made to that one panelist at the Women in Tech conference yesterday, right?” he suggested. “Listen, I know that saying she probably did her best work on her knees was crass. It’s just that she was so confrontational and accusatory, especially after I showed up there as a favor to a friend. But to claim that she was going to pursue a charge of harassment over a bad joke? What is this, 1984 or something?”

“Guess again,” Ryan said.

“I’m at a loss then,” Blackwell said, throwing up his hands in amused exasperation. “That’s everything I’ve done in the last seventy-two hours where people threatened to get law enforcement involved.”

Jessie thought he was finally done and ready to hear what they had to say. But before either of them could speak, he pressed on. Only this time, his voice had more of an edge to it.

“I gather that if it required you to force yourselves into my private office, without advance notice, over the strenuous objections of the soon-to-be-dismissed Mr. Clingan out there, it must be important. I mean ‘exigent circumstances’ and ‘destruction of evidence?’ That sounds like serious stuff.”

“Were you listening in to our conversation in the downstairs lobby, Mr. Blackwell?” Ryan asked coyly.

“I like to know what’s going on,” he answered.

“I see,” Ryan replied. “Well, we had to get up here somehow, didn’t we?”

“So it was all B.S. then?” Blackwell demanded, his tone abruptly shifting from edgy to borderline hostile.

“You tell me,” Ryan shot back.

Jessie noticed both the two police officers and the suited giants shifting nervously, apparently concerned that things might escalate. She understood how they felt.

“I’m a busy man, Detective,” Blackwell retorted with a dismissive wave. “Can you get to your point?”

Jessie considered stepping in but held back. She knew what Ryan was doing, poking a man notorious for losing his temper. If he lost it now, maybe he’d inadvertently reveal something, or better yet, do something.

“Sure I can,” Ryan said. “How about this? We’ll ask you some direct questions. If we get direct answers, then this can all go quickly and we’ll be out of your wet hair.”

“I love it!” Blackwell shouted with fake enthusiasm. “Fire away!”

“You dated Isabella Moreno, correct?” Ryan asked without hesitation.

Blackwell’s deep blue eyes narrowed. When he answered it was with much more caution in his voice than before.

---