“Uh-huh,” Laura said, unconvinced. “What kind of help?”
“We’re trying to identify two men who might have been connected to Mr.Munro,” Kit said.
Laura shook her head. “He said that he didn’t know Munro, nor did he fly him anywhere. Are we done?”
“No,” Kit said sweetly. “Mr.Neal, do you know a man namedWalter Grossman?” He was the taller, more heavily built of the two ex-cons.
“I don’t know that name.” He seemed to have radically aged since the night before. Perspiration beaded on his forehead even though it wasn’t hot in the room. His body was visibly shaking.
Definitely some kind of withdrawal going on.
“Mr.Neal, would you like a glass of water?” Kit asked, her concern true. If the man passed out, he’d be of no use to them.
“No,” Steven said through gritted teeth. “Who’s the other man you’re looking for?”
“Darrin Carter,” Connor said.
Once again, the pilot shook his head. “No.”
Laura Letterman gathered her purse. “I think we’re done, then. Always nice to see you, Detectives.”
“Not so fast.” Kit patted the table and the pilot looked back up. Without saying another word, Connor slid the photos of Walter Grossman and Darrin Carter across the table.
Laura glanced at the photos, trepidation clear in her expression. Kit guessed that the attorney had been expecting another gruesome autopsy photo like the one Connor had shown Veronica the day before. When she saw they were only mug shots, she relaxed.
Steven Neal, however, did not relax. His eyes widened, filling with fear as his gaze locked on to the photo of Walter Grossman. Then he closed his eyes as his shoulders sagged.
“You do recognize his face, then,” Kit said in her kindest voice. “Who is he, Mr.Neal?”
“Do not say another word,” Laura instructed.
Steven buried his face in his hands again. “I just wanted to fly,” he muttered mournfully.
“You never intended to get caught up in Veronica Fitzgerald’s shenanigans,” Kit said, still kindly. It didn’t matter what the manhad intended. He’d knowingly transported a woman carrying large quantities of cash out of the country. But she’d be sweet. For now. “I get that. Where did you see the man in this photo?”
“Steven,” Laura warned.
Connor leaned forward, elbows on the table, taking up more space than he needed. He looked bigger and tougher than he had moments before.
“We know you’re teetering on financial ruin,” Connor said coldly. “We know that between your gambling and child support, you don’t have two pennies to rub together. I’m not even sure how you’re managing to pay your attorney here, but that’s your business.”
That was a good point, and Kit made a mental note to find out who was paying Laura Letterman. She’d bet it was Veronica.
“Is there a question in there, Detective?” Laura asked, just as coldly.
“More a statement of fact, Miss Letterman,” Connor said, his sneer rather remarkable. “We can keep Mr.Neal here for a long time while he waits for his trial. He can’t afford to miss a single chartered flight, much less weeks of missed income. Maybe months. By the time he’s released, he’ll have nothing to return to. His business will have failed, his plane will have been impounded, and his wife will probably want to revoke his parental custody because he won’t have been able to pay his child support.”
Steven looked up then, panic in his eyes. “No.”
“They’re trying to scare you, Steven,” Laura said calmly.
Steven swallowed. “It’s working.”
Kit smiled. “We can ask the prosecutor to make a deal. Maybe let you out on your own recognizance.” Likethatwould ever happen. The man owned a plane, for God’s sake. He could fly anywhere.
“You know that’s not going to happen,” Laura snapped. “He’d be a flight risk. They won’t allow him to continue flying.”
“Better to be out and working somewhere,” Kit said cheerfully, “than to be in jail and lose what little custody he has of his kids. Flying a plane isn’t the only job on the face of the earth. And he still owns the plane. If he cooperates, he could sell it and start over in a new career.”