Page 60 of Exposed
Detectives in short sleeves, their ties loosened, worked on ancient computers at battered desks, surrounded by mismatched gray file cabinets and bulletin boards with outdated memos, and bumper stickers for the Phillies and the Eagles. Windows with broken blinds lined the far side of the room and the air conditioners had a death rattle, so it was uncomfortably hot, and most of the detectives had little blue fans sitting on their desks, whirring away like so many toy airplane propellers.
Mary looked around for Detectives Randolph or Hilliard, whom she knew from Patrick’s case, but they weren’t in sight. She forced her way through the uniformed cops to Simon, putting a hand on his arm. Simon looked over, his mouth a tight line, and Mary knew him well enough to know that he was keeping a lid on his emotions. She never would have dreamed that he’d be a person of interest in a murder investigation and she knew he didn’t kill Todd, but she had to find out why he’d been called in. The detectives hadn’t told her anything more at the hospital and they had taken Simon in the squad car, so she hadn’t been able to talk to him either.
“Detective Lindenhurst,” Mary called out. “I’d like to meet with my client in an interview room before we talk.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary, Ms. DiNunzio?” Detective Lindenhurst turned around with a professional smile. “We’re not going to keep him that long.”
“I do think it’s necessary, but thanks.” Mary smiled back, equally professionally, then took a few steps forward with Simon toward the interview rooms on the right, a line of three doors cracked partway open. “Why don’t I just take him in and I’ll let you know when we’re finished? We won’t be long.”
“Fine, this way.” Detective Lindenhurst led them to interview room A and gestured them inside.
“I’m assuming this will be completely private,” Mary said to him, just to be sure. “Last time I was here, the videocameras weren’t working.”
“It still isn’t.” Detective Lindenhurst smiled, more naturally. “And yes, it will be completely private. Can I get either of you a water or a coffee? We got vending machine coffee. It’s better than it sounds.”
Mary knew it wasn’t. “No thank you.”
Simon shook his head, glancing around as they entered the grimy white box of a room, and Mary closed the door behind them, following his gaze to the stainless-steel chair that was bolted to the floor, which had a pair of handcuffs hanging loosely from one arm. Next to that were two black-plastic chairs and one white, a rickety wooden table, blank Miranda forms, and an actual typewriter.
“Simon, sit down and try to relax. Everything is going to be okay. We’re going to sort this out.”
“Oh God, I hope so.” Simon exhaled with a sigh, sinking into one of the chairs and putting his head in his hands.
“You’re doing a great job staying calm.”
“Thanks, I’m trying.”
“I called your father on the way here, and he said he’ll talk to your cousins.”
“Oh no, he must’ve freaked out.”
“He was upset, but he handled it, and he’s going to stay at the hospital tonight. So he’ll see you when we’re finished here.”
“Thank God Rachel was asleep when the cops came. I have no idea how I would explain it to her.” Simon raked his hair back. “Did you see the nurses? Jenny? Susan? Even Dr. Linda, that’s Rachel’s oncologist. I can’t imagine what they would be thinking. The cops searched me, patted me down, right in front of everyone.”
“They’re allowed to do that for their own safety.”
“It was so embarrassing. At least they didn’t handcuff me.”
“Right.” Mary sat down opposite him, pulling the chair over. “Okay, we don’t have a lot of time, so let’s get to the point. First, the possibility of suicide. Is that something that Todd would do? Do you know any reason he’d commit suicide?”
Simon shook his head, gravely. “It doesn’t sound like him, to tell you the truth. He lets his emotions out. He’s not the kind of guy to carry crap around. I just don’t see him killing himself.”
“Maybe something’s wrong with his ex-wife or the kids. Was there a custody battle or anything? That’s the kind of thing that makes people kill themselves.”
“No, I don’t think they had anything like that, and if so, they were over the hardest part of the divorce. It was all smooth. He has the visitation schedule. That much I know because we worked around it for a company retreat once.”
Mary made a note on her phone. “So that brings us to murder. Somebody must’ve killed him, but why? Does he carry a lot of money on him? He had a Porsche, was he a flashy guy?”
“Totally, he always carried a lot of money. He had a nice Rolex, I know that. So maybe somebody killed him, but it sure as hell wasn’t me.”
“Does he have any enemies that you know of?”
“None that I know of.”
“Okay, the cops must not think he killed himself either, because they brought you in for questioning. They didn’t arrest you, but you’re a person of interest. I’m assuming they called you in because they found out that he fired you, that you’re suing each other, and they’re thinking that’s motive. The good news is that I guarantee you that’s not enough to accuse somebody of murder and you were at the hospital—”
“Mary, there’s something I need to tell you,” Simon interrupted her.
