Page 24 of The Perfect Crime

“I suspect that Mr.Forrester would appreciate it if we kept this just between him and us for now,” Jessie said sweetly.

“Understood,” Slause replied obsequiously, before glancing at a panel of lights above Forrester’s door.Two were green and one was red.

“What’s that about?”Ryan asked.

“They identify Mr.Forrester’s phone lines,” Slause explained.“That way, we can check whether he’s available without having to buzz him and potentially interrupt a call.He hates that.”

“Red means he’s on a call?”Jessie confirmed.

“That’s right,” Slause said.

“Hey Paul,” Ryan said, “how come your ‘small shop’ has security cameras outside a reinforced metal door?”

“Oh, you know,” Paul said sheepishly, “the world of finance can get messy.Sometimes people’s feelings get hurt and they want to express that, not always in the most professional manner.So we take precautions.”

“Do a lot of folks he deals with end up with hurt feelings?”Jessie asked.

“Who’s to say?”Slause half-answered with a shrug.

“Youcould say,” she reminded him.

"Oh, look," he replied, pointing above the door."The red light just turned green.Let's get you in there."

He knocked on the door.

“Come,” Forrester shouted.

Slause opened the door and poked his head in.

“Sorry for just butting in with this,” he said meekly, “but there are a couple of folks from the Los Angeles Police Department here who would like to speak with you.”

“What?”Forrester demanded, clearly not enthused by the prospect.

Ryan stepped through the open door, and Jessie followed.

“Thanks for making the time, Mr.Forrester,” he said, as if the man had already agreed to an interview.“I’m Detective Hernandez.This is Jessie Hunt.This hopefully shouldn’t take too long.”

Daniel Forrester was a sight to behold.The man, who had stood up at their entrance, was physically imposing, easily six-foot-three and about 215 pounds.He was a little paunchy, but not horribly so.Like his vice-president/office manager, he was wearing an expensive suit and had reddish eyes.

What set him apart was his hair, both on top of his head and on his face.He had a wildly unkempt, grayish-black beard, which gave off late-era Charles Manson vibes, something Jessie could imagine being intentional.His curly, bushy hair shot a good three inches above the top of his head and looked like it hadn’t been cut in a year.

The office wasn’t large, but the man had done the most he could with it, covering the walls with diplomas and photos of himself with people she didn’t recognize, He did have a nice view.His window looked south and offered an unobstructed panorama of the downtown skyline.

“Did we have an appointment?”he asked Slause, either truly bewildered or effectively feigning it.

“No sir,” Slause said, “this is a walk-in.”

Jessie found the description amusing but didn’t comment on it.She could see Forrester’s agitation and decided to short-circuit it before the man engaged in any time-wasting bluster.

“We’ve got some questions about a business acquaintance of yours, Mr.Forrester,” she said, moving toward one of the two chairs across from his desk.“What can you tell us about Marcus Vega?”

Forrester’s expression changed almost immediately from a confused frown to an outright scowl.

“You don’t want my opinion on that guy,” he growled, before looking up at Slause.“You can go, Paul.”

Slause shut the door as Ryan took a seat next to Jessie and added, “wedowant your opinion.That’s part of why we’re here.”

Forrester sat back down behind his desk.

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