“Do we need to look at siblings?”
“I don’t think so. The other children are minors. Sebastian Treyson is married to the mother, and they live in Switzerland, not here in the States.”
“How did you learn that?”
He took his phone out. “I did a web search this morning while waiting for the crime scene techs to finish up. I also put in for an official background check and snatched a glance at the partial that came back earlier. We’ll grab that when we check on the warrant information so you can get up to speed.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Kallie poured another full cup of coffee and used one of the disposable plastic tops. She watched him doctor his cup. “Holy crap man, how are you not five hundred pounds?”
He laughed and stirred his cream and sugar through the caffeine. “Too much work and not enough sleep.”
“Hey, I live at that street corner. Funny I’ve never met you before.”
“Right. Let’s grab that info, make sure our warrant information is securely stored and head out.”
“After you.” Kallie moved and waved him forward. He pushed off and smiled. Maybe being without Jordan for this case wouldn’t totally suck.
6
Brock maneuvered the Crown Victoria sedan he and Jordan, now Kallie, used while working into the driveway of the Treyson Residence. As they approached the mansion, a security guard halted their progress. A huddled mass of reporters shouted questions at the car. Flashes from cameras and cell phones were bright in the grey afternoon hours. Brock gave their names and purpose of visit. The guard removed a metal barrier and they drove through the mob. He stopped the car, shoved the gear selector into Park and leaned back in the seat. The heater blew a steady stream of warm air as sleet pelted the windshield. Kallie leaned toward him to take in the grand manor in front of them until the glovebox door spontaneously dropped on her knees. "You realize this car can be condemned, right?" Kallie shoved the glovebox closed again.
"Push it to the right. It'll catch. She's a damn good car."
"I'll take your word on that. At least the heater works." Kallie put her hands up in front of the dash vent. Her phone vibrated and she glanced at the screen. Her body tensed and she shook her head before she pocketed the phone. Kallie took a deep breath and asked, “So, because I'm curious, at what point in this interview do we plan on bringing up the fact we know about Samuel’s polyamorous relationship?” He rolled his eyes toward his new partner. “Can you say awkward?” She crossed her eyes and he chuckled.
“Helluva ace up our sleeve. Let’s start with the basics and go from there.” He glanced out his window. “Fuck, it looks like it’s going to snow for real.”
He reached for the keys and turned off the ignition as they exited the car. The exposed brick driveway meandered back toward the massive grand entry for the mansion. White columns held a portico three floors high. Windows with black shutters flanked the immense double oak door. As they approached, the door opened. They reached for their identification, flashing their badges at the individual who opened the door.
Kallie spoke for them. “Detective Redman and Detective King, Hope City homicide. We have an appointment with Ms. Miriam Treyson.”
“Yes. Mrs. Treyson is expecting you. She’s in the library. Please follow me.”
The smallish gentleman trundled across the expansive entryway. He was sure there was a special name for the type of tile he was walking on, but the only thing he registered was… expensive. An enormous crystal chandelier hung over a dining table twice the size of his mother’s. A riotous display of flowers sat in the middle. There were probably a thousand dollars worth of petals in that damn thing. What a waste. Not that he minded flowers. Hell, he made sure he sent his mom flowers every year for her birthday and Mother’s Day. But this? Talk about overkill.
The little man opened another set of double doors. Mrs. Treyson and five men wearing matching ‘I’m important’ suits swiveled at their entrance. Once again, he and Kallie flipped up their identification.
He did the introductions this time. “Mrs. Treyson, Detectives Redman and King. We’d like to talk to you about your husband’s murder.”
The woman dabbed at her eyes and sniffled as she nodded. One of the men stood and extended his hand toward Kallie. “James Masters, the Treysons’ lead attorney. We will be happy to assist you in this investigation. You may ask anything, within reason. All correspondence and requests should be routed through my office, of course.”
“Of course,” he mumbled under his breath. Kallie sent him a look. She was a sharp one.
“Detectives, please, may we take your coats?” Miriam Treyson looked toward her… hell, he guessed the guy was a butler. Both he and Kallie waved the little guy off. They sat down in the two empty seats across from Mrs. Treyson and her wall of lawyers. They both retrieved their notebooks and leaned forward. Weird that they’d be in sync in their movements and actions already.
“Mrs. Treyson —” Kallie began.
“Please, call me Miriam.” The woman reached for another tissue and Brock took the opportunity to inspect the woman in front of him. She was the one in the picture in Samuel’s wallet. She was indeed beautiful. However, today, her eyes were swollen and ringed with black circles that her perfectly done makeup couldn’t hide.
Her hand shook as she dabbed at the tears in her eyes.
Kallie nodded in response to her request. “Please, tell me, Miriam, where were you last night between the hours of —”
“Don’t answer that!” At least three of the five lawyers spoke simultaneously.
He leaned back and chuckled.
“Excuse me, Detective, do you find something funny about the situation?” Mr. Masters hissed.
Brock leaned forward. He should let that question linger without a response, but fuck that. “Yes, Mr. Masters, I do find this situation—” he made a circle with his hand motioning at the lawyers “—comical. What I didn’t find comical was examining her husband’s dead body. What I still don’t find comical is the fact Mrs. Treyson is barricaded behind a wall of lawyers when she’s not yet a suspect. What I find hilariously offensive is the fact we couldn’t ask one question without you stonewalling us. Samuel Treyson deserves justice. We are here to see justice is served. Your client may have information that could help us track down this man’s killer. I wouldn’t want to be the one to explain to Sebastian Treyson that we can’t find his son’s killer because his wife’s lawyers prevented us from talking to her.” He stood. Kallie played along perfectly and mimicked his actions.
Miriam Treyson stood. “Detectives, please do sit down.” She glared at her collective stonehedge of lawyers. "Mr. Masters, thank you very much, but I have nothing to hide. I will speak with the detectives. Your interruptions are not welcome. You may remain in the room, but please do not interrupt again.” She turned back and motioned toward the chairs.
“Mrs. Treyson, you must rethink this course of action.” Mr. Masters ground the words in an apparent warning.
“Mr. Masters, what I must do is answer these detectives’ questions.” She turned to Kallie and sat down as she said, “I was with another man last night. A longtime lover. I would prefer not to bring him into this investigation; however, he will confirm where I was.” She turned her head and looked directly at him. “Detective King, was it?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Like you, I am extremely offended at the scurrying and posturing being done. You should know that my husband and I were in an open relationship. However, we kept the specifics of our love lives from Samuel’s family and the public. I would very much appreciate it if details of our relationship were not leaked.” She reached forward and plucked another tissue from the box. “You might find this hard to believe, and quite frankly I don’t care if you don’t believe it, but I loved my husband.”
“Ma’am, we are aware of your husband’s polyamorous relationship. How long have the two of you had an open relationship?”
“
Since the day we were married, fifteen years ago. Neither of us wanted the marriage. It was a merger of convenience for our parents. Over time, we have developed a unique and loving situation both of us would fight to protect. He loved Ava, Chloe, and Garrett, the same way I love Alan and Riley. We have documentation in place, nondisclosure agreements that I’m assuming one of Samuel’s lovers ignored. Regardless, the nontraditional relationship worked for us.”
“Did your husband have any enemies? Anyone who had a grudge against him?”
“I’ve been racking my brain, Detective. I can’t think of the soul who didn’t like Samuel. Except for his father.”
Masters exploded from the couch. “Mrs. Treyson! I must object to you casting Sebastian Treyson in this light.”
He’d give her credit; the woman didn’t back down. A single eyebrow rose. “Do you work for me or Sebastian? I believe I pay your retainer. If there is any conflict of interest, I expect you to recuse yourself immediately.” Masters snapped his mouth shut, but, as he planted his ass on the dainty couch, anger flashed in his eyes. Not an unexpected reaction for the rebuke. It was curious that the lawyer's reactions in defense of another were that extreme. He returned his attention to Miriam. “As I was saying, Detective, Sebastian and Samuel didn’t get along. However, I do not believe his father had anything to do with this, simply because losing Samuel could mean a loss of income. Samuel ran several entities within Treyson Enterprises efficiently and effectively. Each quarter showed a net gain, and Samuel’s business acumen made Sebastian Treyson an even richer man.”
“So, there was no business entity or rival who you believe would want to remove him from competition?” Kallie asked to clarify.
“You’d have to talk to Sebastian or perhaps the board of directors at Treyson Enterprises. Samuel and I worked together for our charitable causes. Treyson Enterprises has vast holdings I’m not privy to, nor can I speculate as to his association with those businesses. Detective, I know my husband. He was a good man. He had a kind heart. I believe he was ethical in his business dealings because it was evident when we met those people in a social setting.”
“What about his lovers?”
“The last time Samuel and I spoke, they were planning a vacation together. I know Ava and Chloe are probably inconsolable at this point. Garrett? I don’t know him as well, he’s newer in the relationship.”
“So how long have you known his other lovers?” He thumbed back through the notes he’d taken during the interview with Ava Dall.
“Ava was first. Chloe and Samuel started a relationship about six months after he started dating Ava. I believe Ava was the one to suggest Chloe to Samuel. They’d been together for three years before Garrett entered the picture. It took a while for the girls to understand that Samuel needed Garrett as much as he needed them.”
“Would there be cause for Ava or Chloe to feel jealousy toward Garrett?” He tapped his notebook with his pen. If this man was so damn beloved, who the fuck slit his neck?
“Not that Samuel had mentioned.”
“Mrs. Treyson, as Samuel’s widow, I assume you stand to inherit his fortune?” Following the money was always a smart move, especially when there didn’t seem to be anyone with the next grind.
“You do not need to answer that,” Masters growled from the couch.
Mrs. Treyson shook her head and rolled her eyes. “It will soon be a matter of public record, Mr. Masters. What could I possibly gain by not answering that question?” She returned her attention to him and shrugged. “I have a prenup agreement. In the event of Samuel’s death, I do stand to inherit a great deal of money from his estate. However, I do know his will specifically indicates his lovers will be taken care of in addition to numerous charities and foundations. Money is nothing to me. I am independently wealthy. I own Beckham-Bennett Pharmaceuticals. I have more money than the Treysons, and I will probably use Samuel’s money to feed and clothe the homeless and fund medical research.”
“Did you hear from Samuel before he was killed?”
“I spoke to him several times Wednesday. We were coordinating our attendance at the Dempsey Memorial Ball. I called his office twice, and he called me once.”
“Did you sense anything was wrong?”
“No, as a matter of fact, he was upbeat. Happy. I poked at him about his good mood. He said things were wonderful, but we changed subjects after that.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“We spent Friday nights together. Occasionally, a charitable or business event took place on other nights, and we were forced to juggle our personal schedules. You’d have to check with his lovers. Ava usually coordinated Samuel’s schedule. I believe they shared an online calendar system.”
He leaned back in his chair and stared at the beautiful woman in front of him. There was something he was missing. “What would have happened if Sebastian Treyson discovered your open relationship with Samuel?”
“You’re saying that as if Sebastian didn’t know.” Mrs. Treyson turned a sad smile toward him. “Sebastian Treyson and I were lovers for years, while I was married to Samuel. We stopped seeing each other when Sebastian decided to trade me in for a younger model. Literally, a younger model.” She shrugged her shoulder.
“Ms. Dall indicated Sebastian Treyson would be angry should he know.” Deadly if he recalled her words correctly. And he did.
“I’m sure Samuel told them that in order to keep their relationships quiet. He wouldn’t want his father to know about them, and I don’t blame him, but there was no worry with the NDA’s they had in place.” She shook her head and bit her bottom lip. “Perhaps he was open with them about the relationship issues he had with his father because he trusted them.”
“You said your husband had an online calendar system. May we please have access to that?”
“Absolutely. But I have been advised by Sebastian’s lawyers, and mine, any associated documentation or emails are considered privileged information and exclusive property of Treyson Enterprises. You will need a court order to access those.” She smiled tightly and shrugged. It would seem the woman’s hands were tied, and it didn’t appear she cared for it.
“Thank you, ma’am. Now if we could get the contact information of the individual you were with the night your husband was murdered?”
He scribbled in his notebook and asked a few miscellaneous questions, but for now, the interview with Mrs. Treyson was over. He let Kallie do the nicey-nicey, glad to meet you, thing as he rolled the revelations of the interview through his mind. They had a shit ton of unanswered questions. Samuel Treyson was still an enigma. He didn’t have a bead on the man. A successful businessman and all-around good guy with a wife and three full-time lovers, and yet, he ended up in a warehouse with his jugular sliced wide open. They needed to start putting together the pieces of Samuel’s last hours. He glanced at his watch. It was going to be another long fucking day.
7
Kallie unassed her desk chair, and her spine cracked in protest. They’d established their white board. They had the lovers and the wife listed. They’d accessed the man’s online calendar, and the warrant had come through for the apps on Samuel’s phone. Hope City's crime lab and tech department had printed the information for them. The questions they still had were numerous and daunting. There weren't enough waking hours in the day to get everything done. Right now, it was a matter of waiting for information and completing additional interviews as needed. She’d forgotten how much she really fucking hated waiting.
“Come on.” Brock rose and grabbed his green military field jacket, slipping it on. There was a dress code for homicide detectives, but going by the detectives in this precinct, it was ignored. Jeans and sweaters seemed to be the standard. She was going to love working here.
She didn’t question where they were going. She just slipped on her jacket, grabbed her shit, and followed her new partner. It was almost midnight. They’d rehashed the interviews, reviewed the statements, and looked at
crime scene photos until she could recite in detail every article found in each photo.
"Detective King, have you made any headway on the case?"
"Detective, is this your partner? Ma'am, what's your name?"
"Detective King, care to comment on the allegations of nepotism, that you're too junior to lead this investigation?"
Kallie kept her head down, hands in her pockets, and followed Brock's wide shoulders through the crowd. Her partner didn't flinch at the attack. Stoic and unbending he moved forward. For fuck's sake, it was the middle of the night and the vultures were still circling.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. After they drove away from the station, she clutched it glanced at the text. Fucking Rich.
>I have your telephone number. I will find you.
She should have blocked his number, but her gut told her having an eye on his particular brand of crazy would be beneficial in the long run. She could get another number, but then she wouldn't have a way to monitor his insanity. So, she'd deal with the threats and taunts. Rich would be a problem, no matter what steps she took. He had friends on the force before he went to prison. If one of them had contacts, he could eventually track her to Atlanta and from there to here.
"Anything wrong?" Brock asked when she pocketed the phone.
"What? No. Nothing that needs attention right now." Soon, but not now.
Brock maneuvered the Crown Vic into a parallel parking slot in front of a brick building. The two-some exited the vehicle and trudged up four flights of stairs. Brock fished in his pocket for a set of keys and opened the door.
“What are we doing?” Kallie asked as he turned on the light and strode down the hall.
“I need to get Fester before I take you home.”
“Who the hell is Fester, and I don’t remember asking for a ride home.”
Brock swooped down and grabbed a huge cat that wandered over to him. The cat’s long orange hair looked like someone had plugged him into an electrical outlet.
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