Page 7 of The Perfect Poise

"We do not need to call your captain to confirm what you say," he said. "I'm looking online, and the story is already there. The gossip websites have photos from far away, and they name Chloe as the victim. One site says she was stabbed many times."

"I'm sorry that you have to see that, Mr. Baptiste," Ryan replied. "We try to keep the tabloids away, but who knows who might sneak around to get access to an unsecured crime scene. Unfortunately, those reports are accurate. Chloe was stabbed repeatedly and with a ferocity that suggests there may have been a personal vendetta at work. That's why I asked about anyone with a grievance against her."

“In this moment, I can think of no one,” Baptiste said, choking back tears. “I’m sure some people do not love her. She has strong opinions and shares them with passion. But to anger someone to the point of violence? I cannot imagine such a thing.”

“Alibi,” Jessie mouthed to Ryan, hoping to get a sense of Baptiste’s credibility when he was asked an unexpected question.

Ryan nodded. “Mr. Baptiste, I was surprised to learn that your wife didn’t accompany you on this trip.”

“She was to come on Wednesday,” the man said. “I was needed here on Saturday for the festival’s opening gala, but she strongly said she must stay in Los Angeles for the gallery auction. Her friend is the owner. Now I am wondering if I should have demanded harder for her to come.”

“You can’t think that way, Mr. Baptiste,” Ryan told him. “That will take you down a dark path. I speak from experience. You had no control over what happened. But you can make a difference in terms of what happens next.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“The goal for me and my team is to find out who did this and bring them to justice,” Ryan explained. “It won’t bring Chloe back, but it will allow her some peace.”

“How can I help with that?” Baptiste asked.

Jessie smiled. When he wanted to be, Ryan was masterful at handling people.

“We are sitting outside your Hancock Park home right now. We’d like to search it immediately. It’s possible that there’s some clue inside, maybe a letter threatening her or fingerprints from someone who was stalking her and snuck in at some point. We won’t necessarily know what we’re looking for until we’re inside. We’d like your permission to enter the house and begin that search.”

Jessie held her breath as she waited for the man’s response.

“Of course,” he said with barely a moment’s hesitation. “Gerard will call my butler, Phillipe, right now and instruct him to admit you. Take the time you need. But please keep me informed of what is happening. I will leave Paris when we hang up. As soon as the jet is ready, we will fly. I should be back there in less than twelve hours.”

“I wish you safe travels, sir,” Ryan said. “And again, my condolences.”

After they hung up, he turned to Jessie.

“What did you think?” he asked.

Jessie shrugged.

“I mean, he sounded credible over the phone,” she acknowledged, “but you know I always prefer to be in the room when we question someone—look in their eyes, study their body language.”

“I get that,” Ryan agreed. “And I’m not holding you to this, but I’d love your initial profile of the guy.”

"Based on what he said and his vocal patterns," she replied, "which can be hard to discern considering his strong accent, I'm inclined to think we shouldn't put all our resources into targeting him. He sounded sincere and he has an alibi. Of course, we both know all too well that people hire professional killers all the time. He could have had a hit put on her when he knew he'd be out of the country and told the assassin to make it look personal. We'll need to check his financials, which I imagine will be a challenge with a guy like that."

“If there’s anyone who can untangle the financial data of an ultra-high-net whatchamacallit, it’s Jamil,” Ryan noted.

He was right. Jamil Winslow, the head of the HSS Research department was a genius, capable of filtering through massive databases, sorting surveillance video into manageable buckets, or making complex financial records understandable, all seemingly in the blink of an eye. His small stature, physical fragility, and thick glasses gave the impression that he could be overlooked, but when he wielded his computer like a knight would a sword, he was formidable.

The other member of the team, Beth Ryerson, was no slouch either. While not a human supercomputer like Jamil, she had an incredibly sharp mind, which people tended to underestimate because she was an attractive, six foot plus former college volleyball star.

“Let’s ask them to get started now,” Jessie said. “Maybe by the time we’ve finished searching the Baptiste mansion, they’ll have uncovered something.”

“Let’s hope so,” Ryan said, “because right now, we’re grasping at straws.”

CHAPTER FOUR

They never even went home.

Jessie was plying herself with some early morning coffee as she walked to the Research department at Central Station and thought back on the horrible night they'd just had. It was 5:10 a.m., and she was feeling the weight of the last eight hours.

After spending four of those hours at the Baptiste mansion, along with two CSU teams, scouring the massive place, they left at two in the morning with nothing noteworthy to show for it.

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