Page 26 of The Perfect Crime

The man, his face returning to a shade of bright pink, sighed exhaustedly.

“It was the fight that I got into a half dozen years ago,” he said.“he told me his bosses couldn’t risk doing such a big deal with someone who might punch one of them if things got hairy.”

“Didn’t they do the research on you before that point?”Ryan asked.

“They’re not the police,” Forrester replied.“I’ve done a good job of making that stuff hard to find unless you’re really looking.I tried to explain to Vega that there’s a context to everything, but he told me that it was out of his hands.The decision had been made.”

“Was there a context to you attacking Vega in the paper?”Jessie wanted to know, before adding.“I noticed that you didn’t mention the reason he backed out, that it was his boss’s decision.You just attacked his character.I also noticed that he didn’t attack you back.”

“So you’re on his side now?”Forrester asked, “the guy who cost me millions of dollars?”

Jessie looked over at Ryan to see if they were on the same page going forward.Despite the dustup earlier, his little nod indicated that they were.So she dropped the bomb.

“We’re on the side of anyone whose murder we’re investigating,” she said simply.

For a second, Forrester didn’t respond.

“Wait, what?”he said, either stunned or “stunned.”She couldn’t decide which.

“You weren’t aware that his wife was murdered last night?”she asked.

“I had no idea,” he insisted.“Why didn’t you lead with that?Wait—do you think thatIkilled his wife?Over some financial spat?You can’t be serious.I didn’t even know her.”

“We’re just doing our due diligence,” Ryan told him.“Is there a reason we should think that?”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Forrester said forcefully, the beads of sweat now dripping down past his temples.“I didn’t even know it happened, I swear.When did she die?”

“That’s a good question,” Jessie said.“Where were you between 6 p.m.and 8 p.m.last night?”

Forrester thought about it briefly.

“I was at my spa,” he said, sounding relieved that he potentially had an alibi.“I like to go there to decompress after work some nights.I spent some time in the sauna and the steam room.I showered there too.”

“So,” Jessie said, certain that Ryan was thinking the same thing as her, “theoretically, you could have left your phone in locker at the spa so that it seemed like you were there, then gone somewhere else.”

“I didn’t do that!”he shouted, his face immediately darkening again.

"Okay," she said, moving on as if she'd barely heard his objection, "where were you on Sunday night between nine and eleven?"

“Why?”

“We’re just trying to get out of your hair here, Mr.Forrester,” Ryan said, convincing no one.The quicker you provide us with answers, the better for everyone.”

“Really?”he asked, “because this is starting to feel like harassment.”

Once more he rose to his feet, huffing deeply.

"Is there a reason you are standing up again rather than calmly answering our questions?"Jessie tweaked.

She could feel her blood starting to pump faster again and was tempted to get to her feet too.She noted that the man seemed to lose self-control when pushed even a little bit.That could lead to a verbal mistake or a physical one.She was fine with either.

“I was home on Sunday,” he said slowly, clearly forcing himself not to take her bait.

“Was anyone with you?”Ryan asked.

Forrester’s face sank into a mix of doubt and anger.

“I’m divorced twice over, man,” he said.“I’ve learned to enjoy my ‘me’ time in the privacy of my own home.”

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