Page 37 of Dark Terror
The tapping of Harry’s fingers on the arm of her chair told Gabe she was seconds away from using her gun to interrogate the man. Not literally, but Harry had never grasped the meaning of using honey to catch flies. It was time to step in before she decided to play bad cop, her favorite role.
“You’re obviously a smart man, Mr. Sherman. Yes, we’re here because of your missing bookkeeper. When was the last time you saw her?”
“I rarely see her. She works several floors below me in the accounting department. Why are you asking?”
“If you rarely see her, how did you know she was missing?” he said, ignoring the man’s question.
“My son told me. You wouldn’t be here simply because she’s missing. What are you not telling me?”
The man was smart. No denying it. Although Sherman rubbed him wrong, he didn’t have that particular buzz every cop had when they knew they were zeroing in on their man. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Harry’s almost imperceptible shake of her head. She wasn’t feeling the buzz either.
“We’ll be talking to your son next, sir,” Gabe said. “As to what we aren’t telling you, Sheri Carstad was murdered last Friday night.” Gabe watched for the man’s reaction, accepting that it was true shock he saw.
“She was the woman on the news?”
“Yes, that was her,” Harry said. “But we haven’t been able to notify her next of kin, so we ask that you keep that information to yourself for now. Where were you on Friday night between eight and nine, Mr. Sherman?”
“Although I resent your question, Detective, I suppose you have to ask it. My wife and I spent Friday evening at home. I’d prefer you not bother her with this, but if you must verify that was where I spent my evening, I’ll arrange for you to talk to her.” He brushed his fingers over the sleeve of his suit coat, giving the impression that he was done with them.
Gabe stood. “We’ll contact you if that becomes necessary.” And even if Mrs. Sherman swore on a stack of Bibles that her husband was home with her, they would take it with a grain of salt. A spouse would be likely to lie to protect their other half.
“Where might we talk to your son?” Harry asked.
Troy Sr. picked up his phone. “Margie, I need you to take the detectives to the conference room and then tell TJ to meet them there.”
A few moments later the same woman who’d escorted them earlier opened the door. “Detectives, come with me, please.”
The woman—Margie—didn’t say a word as she led them to the conference room. When they arrived, she finally spoke. “There’s water in the fridge and freshly made coffee on the counter.”
When they were alone, Gabe went to the mini-refrigerator. “Water?”
Harry shook her head. “No, I’m going for coffee. Considering the money floating around this place, it was probably made by virgins wearing silky white tunics stomping their delicate feet on the coffee beans, and each cup costs a million dollars.” She slanted raised eyebrows at him. “Or am I thinking of wine making with the stomping thing? Because right now I’d trade my gun for a bottle of wine. These people give me the heebie-jeebies, and I can’t think straight.”
Gabe snorted a laugh. “Christ, I love you, Harry.” When her eyebrows rose higher, he hurried to clarify. “Like a sister. I love you like a sister.”
“Don’t ever scare me like that again.” She waved her fingers between them. “Sibling love is okay. The other kind and I’d have to shoot you.”
“You really need to stop threatening to shoot people, partner, especially me. To get serious before TJ comes in, what is it about this place that rubs you wrong?”
“The way he looked at us, as if we were wasting his valuable time. One of his employees was killed, and all he had to say about that was to ask if she was the woman on the news. He showed zero emotion at hearing she was dead. For Pete’s sake. Even if he didn’t know her personally, an employer with feelings would be shocked and saddened by that kind of news, wouldn’t you think?”
“I would.”
“Well, he wasn’t. All he did was brush imaginary lint off the sleeve of his thousand-dollar suit.”
“More like three-thousand-dollar suit.”
She blinked. “No shit?”
“No shit.” He glanced at the door to make sure no one was nearby. “I know we planned to talk to Sheri’s assistant today, but I think we should drop in on her at home instead. I’m not sure—”
“That she’d feel free to talk here,” Harry finished for him.
“Exactly. So this evening we’ll pay her a surprise visit?”
“That works.”
“I’m picking up Cara when she gets off, and we have to move her to your place first.”
