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Carsen goes without complaint, and Keith answers the door after checking that one of the guards is with him. “Hello, Officer. Please come in.”
I don’t know what it is, but as soon as the guy walks through the door, everything about him screams ‘cop.’ He’s in his mid-forties, and he’s got on a pretty decent suit, but I think it’s his eyes that make the difference. They say he’s seen some shit, and that despite Keith’s celebrity status, there’s a lot of other things he’d rather be doing on a Monday afternoon.
It makes me like him, relaxing some. If he’d come in starry-eyed and asking for Keith’s autograph, I know I wouldn’t trust his ability to handle a case like this. But his air of professional indifference and just-the-facts seriousness seems like a bigger help. He offers a hand to Keith, then me, shaking them in turn. “Detective Morrison. Nice to meet you, Mr. Perkins . . . Miss Warner.”
Keith directs Detective Morrison to the living room, and we sit on the couch next to each other, holding hands.
Detective Morrison pulls out a small notepad and pen, along with a voice recorder, and begins. “I’ve already seen the interview you did this morning. Just for my records, I’ll need you to confirm everything. You said the threat was over your daughter. Is that correct?”
Keith nods, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “Yes, and that I’m dating Elise. The threat was to publish both of those things.”
“Can you tell me how the threat was made?”
With a large sigh, Keith starts telling Detective Morrison about the suspicious phone call and our late-night meeting with Donnie and Francesca.
Detective Morrison writes in his notebook as Keith talks, but he looks up sharply when the $3.5 million blackmail is mentioned. He seems to search Keith’s face for a moment, then motions for him to proceed.
As Keith wraps up his retelling with the Monday five o’clock deadline, Morrison hums. “And what happened then? Did you approach him in any way? Touch him at all?”
“No. I was furious and I damn sure wanted to. But in that moment, I was just thinking about keeping everything quiet for Carsen’s sake. As mad as I was, I needed to figure out my play, not rush in hot-headed and make things worse. So we left.”
Detective Morrison turns to me. “Miss Warner, you were there to witness these events? Anything you’d like to add?”
I shake my head, wondering what Morrison’s hinting at. “No, that’s exactly what happened. Maybe add in there that Francesca and Donnie are sleeping together? Not sure it’s relevant, but I’m not covering up anything for them.”
“Okay. Mr. Perkins, so after leaving, where did you go?”
“Why? Do I need an alibi?” Keith says, getting a little pissed. “I’m the one getting blackmailed here, for fuck’s sake. No, I was here at home, and nobody was here with me. But there are cameras. The feed is recorded so there’s video of me coming in. No person to really confirm, but video of the whole house for the whole night.”
Detective Morrison scribbles something down and then turns to me. “So, Miss Warner, you weren’t here that night? Where were you?”
Keith sighs, his anger evaporating as he looks ashamed for the first time. I squeeze his hand. “Well, we had a bit of an argument about the whole thing, so Keith dropped me off at home. Later, I went to see a friend to help me figure out what we could do. I went to the club where she waits tables, and we talked while everyone cleaned and closed up. Lots of people saw me there.”
He nods his head once, his eyes skimming his notes. “Okay, I will need the video from the cameras and the names of the people who saw you that night.”
Keith and I nod, still not sure what that has to do with Donnie’s blackmail. “I’m feeling like I’m being charged with something here when Donnie is the one who committed a crime. What’s going on?”
Detective Morrison looks at us, and it feels like he’s scanning us for mistruths or misdeeds, like he’s a living lie detector.
Finally, he caps his pen and puts it back in his suit pocket. “Mr. Perkins, I believe you and your accounting of what happened. That’s important for you to understand because I don’t think you’re going to like what I say next. We received a phone call this morning, shortly after you went on-air, in fact, from Donald Jardine. He reported that you came to his office two nights ago, angry about an article he was publishing. He stated that you were violent, aggressive, pushing him against the wall and breaking things throughout his office. He said you then punched him several times, in the abdomen and across his cheek. I went to see him at the hospital this morning.”
