His words fueled Montgomery’s irritation.
“Wipe that grin off your face,” Montgomery snapped. “You were trespassing. Don’t think I won’t throw you under the bus if I get the chance.”
“Go ahead. You’re trespassing, too,” Jackal accused.
“My wife owns this place,” Montgomery roared, leaning on the table as if he wanted to pounce on Jackal.
“An estranged wife who hates you,” Jackal rebutted.
“Gentlemen, let’s stay focused,” Fontana interjected, attempting to diffuse the tension. “We have two minutes to get our story straight. As far as I’m concerned, I helped manage a bachelorette party of private guests. One of our staff members did a sweep near the fence line and found a body. You two were nearby and helped her. What do we say about the wristband and the fact that it’s Lawrence?”
“Nothing,” Montgomery said. “We destroy the thing and let the cop figure out his identity.”
“That works for me,” Fontana said.
Jackal just grunted, but finally nodded.
“Ryder?” Fontana asked.
Ryder looked from her pleading glance to the two men who wanted to tear each other’s throats out.
“I just want to get this over with,” he murmured, turning in his seat when the elevator outside the office opened. “I’ll go first.”
* * *
Ryder satin a smaller but just as extravagant room, facing a weary man in a rumpled suit.
Detective Spencer Frank was tall with blonde hair and an unshaven face. He was reminiscent of Luke, which had set Ryder on edge immediately. The difference between the cop and Luke, though, was that Luke had an air of privilege and coddling. The cop looked tougher, more mature, and incredibly resentful at being there.
“So,” Detective Frank said, eyeing him skeptically. “This place is run by a group of women who throw parties, and you do the security.”
“I’m just contracted for this one party, but yeah,” he replied.
“And that’s Montgomery Meyer in the other room?” the detective asked.
“Yeah,” he replied, following the man’s gaze to the room across the hall.
Montgomery stood staring out the window. At the table, Fontana and Jackal talked in low tones.
“Have you worked with him for long?”
Ryder looked back at the man.
“I haven’t worked with him at all,” he replied, wondering what in the hell the detective was getting at. Did he have a history with Montgomery?
“Interesting,” the detective murmured.
“Look, detective, why do you—”
“Call me Spencer. It’s not like this is a legitimate investigation, is it?” Spencer asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s not like my boss got a call from his boss, who got a call from a certain senator, who wanted me to get my ass out here in the middle of the night to figure out what to do with a body.”
Ryder didn’t reply, and as Spencer stared at him, he kept his expression neutral as well. He wasn’t about to volunteer any information.
“I’m curious about Montgomery since he’s the one who called the senator. In my experience, the people who make those calls are the ones who need the bodies cleaned up,” Spencer said, his tone heavy with irony.
“I… really wouldn’t know,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “If this isn’t a real investigation, why talk to me at all?”
“Well, I’ve got to make this look good, don’t I?” Spencer said with a chuckle, tapping his blank notebook. “Now. Do you want to tell me how the dead guy ended up dead?”