Page 22 of The Perfect Appearance

“Make him think you’re LAPD without saying it,” she advised. “Project the image of an authority figure. Let him know that it’s in his interest to be cooperative with you and that being combative or just unhelpful won’t reflect well on him. Maybe even get him to hand over any weapons. Then, when you feel comfortable, wave me over for more specific questioning.”

“And what if he lashes out?”

“Then you’re entitled to engage in self-defense and subdue him,” she said happily. “That would almost be preferable because then he could be arrested. Maybe while he’s in custody, ‘someone’ makes an anonymous call suggesting the authorities look into him in connection with the Britton murder.”

“So you want me to rile him up?”

“No,” Jessie said. “That’s not the preferred outcome, but if it comes to that, at least we can make it work for us.”

Just then, the front door of the building opened, and people began streaming out. A group of four people walked together, causally moving toward their cars. Another group of two followed. And then another twosome. The call center employees seemed to be a friendly bunch. That is except for the person who exited the building next. He stepped out alone, and with his head down, immediately veered right, walking briskly.

“That’s him,” Jessie said. “Better get moving if you want to catch him in time.”

“I’m going,” Grover said, hopping out of the car. “You stay here unless I indicate otherwise. And for God’s sake, keep the doors locked.”

"Yes, sir!" Jessie said with a mock salute.

Grover shook his head in distaste before heading over to meet his quarry. As he jogged behind Benes, Jessie fixed in on Britton’s former patient. The man wasn’t physically imposing. She guessed that he was about five foot ten and 170 pounds. Of course, that was still big enough to overwhelm Gemma Britton.

He had brown hair brushed to the right side to create a severe part. His pale coloring suggested he didn't get outside much. He was dressed casually in a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt and wore a light windbreaker, despite the warm day. Because of it, Jessie couldn’t tell if he was hiding any kind of weapon underneath.

He certainly wasn’t looking over his shoulder apprehensively. But that was because he never looked up from the ground. He seemed fixated on getting to his car and away from his chatty co-workers and appeared oblivious to the trim but muscular man with short gray hair coming up behind him.

She watched as Grover took stock of the guy before finally tapping him on the shoulder just paces from his car. Benes was so startled that he actually jumped in the air, though he made no effort to reach for anything under the jacket.

Jessie couldn't tell what Grover was saying, but it clearly had the man agitated. But to her surprise, after several seconds, Benes's shoulders seemed to slacken slightly, and he actually responded to whatever the bodyguard was saying. He didn’t look comfortable, but he had lost his initial panicky vibe. Grover looked over at her and gave a subtle nod, indicating that she should join them.

She exited the car and quickly moved their way. Benes’s back was to her, but she didn’t want to take too long and risk him suddenly deciding to bail. As she got closer, she could hear Grover talking at a rapid pace, perhaps to keep Benes’s attention away from her.

“…we’ll be all done in a jif,” he said with forced optimism.

“I really don’t see how I can be of any help,” Benes replied, his voice thick with anxiety as his body stiffened. “I just want to go home.”

"And that'll happen soon, mate," Grover assured him, "just as soon as we get a few things cleared up."

“What division of LAPD did you say you were with again?” the man asked.

“That’s not my department, actually,” Grover conceded.

Benes tensed up even more. Jessie moved faster to get close.

“I’d like to see your badge,” Benes demanded.

Grover looked like he’d run out of quippy stalling language.

“I’ve got my ID here somewhere,” he muttered, patting at his pockets but not actually producing anything.

“Never mind,” Benes said, starting to turn away. “I’m just gonna go.”

When he spun around, he saw Jessie, who was still a half dozen paces away. He stumbled slightly at the sight of her, then, for reasons that were unclear, started running. His path was just to her left. She looked over at Grover, who shook his head vigorously.

But she couldn’t help herself. Almost independent of her brain, her left leg shot out, clipping Benes’s toe as he darted by her. He lost his balance and toppled over, landing flat on his face. She stepped over beside him.

“My colleague there may not officially work for LAPD, but I do,” she said, “and I recommend that you stay exactly where you are.”

He didn't move, but Grover did. He came right up next to her and hissed in a quietly seething voice.

"You promised me you wouldn't put yourself at risk. But the moment I loosen the reins, that's the first thing you do. He could have collided with you. I swear, Jessie, if you can't control yourself, one of two things is going to happen. Either I put you on home confinement, or you pay my minimum fee, and I quit this job. Then you can fend for yourself. Do I make myself clear?"

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