Page 23 of The Perfect Betrayal

“Any criminal record?” Riddell wanted to know.

“Nothing that we can find so far,” Jamil said, sounding deflated. “But Detective Hernandez said that he was going to talk to a buddy he knew down at the courthouse. He mentioned seeing something odd in the file but didn’t want to say more until he was sure it was something real.”

“He didn’t give you any more than that?” Jessie pressed.

“I’m afraid not, Ms. Hunt,” Jamil said, with a hint of frustration. “He was quite guarded about it.”

“You sound upset,” Jessie said.

“Jamil is just mad at himself,” Beth said. “He thinks that he should have been able to pick up on whatever it was that Detective Hernandez noticed. I told him that’s why the man is a detective. But he’s pouting anyway.”

“I’m not pouting,” Jamil said, clearly pouting.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Oliver Stanton said, poking his head into his own office. “But two of the gentlemen from the friend group have arrived.”

“Jamil, we have to go,” Jessie said. “But please have Ryan reach out when he has something for us.”

"Yes, ma'am," the researcher promised.

Jessie hung up and turned to Riddell.

“How do you want to handle this?” she asked. “We can question them as a pair or break them up.”

“Let’s separate them,” Riddell said. “That way they can’t look to each other to create consensus answers.”

That was clearly the logical choice. In fact, she was embarrassed that she’d even asked the question, something she never would have done if her faculties were in full effect. The truth was that she was a little worried that talking to one of these guys solo, she might miss something important. But since there was no way to bring that up without losing all credibility, she nodded in agreement.

“Pick whoever you want,” she said. “I’ll take the other one.”

Riddell chose Archie Crittendon, a giant curly-haired dude who looked like a linebacker gone to seed. Jessie wasn’t sure if the detective picked him because he wanted to go mano a mano with the big guy or out of some chivalrous desire not to make her do so. Her money was on the former.

That left her with Jackson Dwyer, who was far less physically imposing than his friend. Jessie, at 5’10”, was a good three inches taller than him. He was on the frail side, with balding brown hair and reddish skin that suggested he didn’t use enough sunblock on his boat.

They each took their interviewee to separate conference rooms. Riddell chose the smaller of the two, possibly to make Crittendon feel claustrophobic. Jessie didn’t know if she was giving the detective too much credit. But whether it was an intentional choice or happenstance, it was a good move.

That left her with the bigger conference room. She hoped that she could work it to her advantage, perhaps by making Dwyer feel dwarfed by his surroundings and the situation.

“This is about Daran, right?” he said once she closed the door and had him take a seat.

Apparently he wasn’t yet ware of the death of his other friend. She decided to use that if she could and answered his question with one of her own.

“Can you think of any reason why someone would have wanted to kill Daran?” she asked.

“No way,” he insisted. “Daran was a good guy. He just kind of went with the flow. I can’t imagine anyone having an issue with him, much less one that would make them want to kill him.”

“How did you become friends?” Jessie asked.

“Well, we were both members of the club and have a lot of enthusiasm for being on the water. So there’s that. Plus, we both worked in our father’s companies, so we had that connection.”

“What do you do, Mr. Dwyer?’ she asked, even though she already knew the basics on him.

“My family handles a lot of commercial real estate, primarily in Torrance,” he explained. “My dad started the business about thirty-five years ago and I joined up right out of college.”

“How long have you and Daran been friends?”

“Maybe five years,” he said.

“And how long have you been friends with Taye Boyce?”

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