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“It would be helpful if I told Mr. Forrest what this is in regards to.”
He wanted to stonewall—she could see it. And couldn’t blame him, as she’d have wanted to do the same.
“Mr. Forrest—” He broke off, holding up a hand as the ear-com he wore blinked blue.” “Yes, sir. Of course. Mr. Forrest,” he began again, “is available. This way, please.”
Benedict Forrest’s office was only steps away from his admin’s, but a world away from it in style. Here, the workstation held the necessary and the efficient, crowded together with what Eve thought of as guy toys—an autographed baseball on a pedestal, a handheld golf game, a couple of trophies, a sponge-weight toy football. Photographs and posters of sports figures or sports products juggled for space along the wall.
Chairs were leather, deep, and looked comfortably worn.
Forrest himself stood about three inches under his admin’s height. He wore a shirt open at the collar, casual khakis, and trendy gel-skids. There was a friendly, just-one-of-the-guys look about him with his tousled sandy hair, easy smile, cheerful hazel eyes.
“You’ve been waiting. Sorry. I had to wrap things up. Ben Forrest.” He crossed the office as he spoke, shot out his hand. Eve shook, studying him as he offered his hand to Peabody.
“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody.”
“Have a seat. What can we get you? Coffee, bottled water, a sports drink?”
“We’re fine. We’re hear to speak with you about Thomas Anders.”
Humor danced over Forrest’s expressive face. “Don’t tell me Uncle Tommy’s in trouble.”
“Uncle?”
“My mother’s brother. Please, sit.” He gestured, then dropped down into a chair. “More, really, as he basically raised me after my mother died.”
“How did she die?”
“Eaten by a shark.”
Intrigued, Eve sat. “Really?”
His grin flashed. “Yeah, really. I was about six, and don’t remember her that well, so it’s more interesting than tragic for me. Scuba diving off the coast of Madagascar. Anyway, what about my uncle?”
Sticky now, Eve thought. “I’m sorry to have to tell you Mr. Anders was killed this morning.”
Amusement snapped into shock that leached the healthy color out of his face. “What? Killed? How? Are you sure? Wait.” He rose, dug a ’link out of his pocket.
“Mr. Forrest, we’ve just left your uncle’s home, and his widow.”
“But…we’re going to the Knicks game tonight. We—we played golf on Sunday. He…”
“Ben.” Leopold moved across the room. After taking the ’link out of Ben’s hand, he laid a hand on Ben’s shoulder, eased him down into the chair. “I’m very sorry. So very sorry. I’m going to cancel the rest of your appointments for the day.” He walked to a cabinet, tapped the door. When it opened, he took out a chilled bottle of water, unscrewed the top. “Drink some water.”
Like a puppet, Ben obeyed. Eve made no objection when Leopold ranged himself like a guard behind Ben’s chair.
“What happened?”
“He was strangled.”
“That can’t be right.” Ben shook his head slowly from side to side. “That just can’t be right.”
“Do you know anyone who wished him harm?”
“No. No.”
“Where were you this morning between one and four A.M.?”
“Jesus. Home. Home in bed.”
