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“I’m surprised you showed up in person.”
“I wasn’t satisfied with Taylor’s report. It, uh, seemed incomplete.”
Polidori sighed. “Look, Logan, I had nothing to do with that little girl’s disappearance.”
“Cut the crap,” Logan said in a voice so low, he didn’t recognize it as his own.
Polidori’s dark eyes flashed. “You don’t believe me, either.”
“Let’s just get down to it. Two of your goons attacked Zachary Danvers, messed him up bad enough to send him to the hospital, and, at about the same time little London Danvers and her nanny disappeared. Coincidence?”
“Do I need to call my lawyer?”
“You tell me.”
“I had nothing to do with either incident,” Polidori insisted, then strode to the bar and poured himself another drink. “Nothing.”
Logan didn’t believe a word of it. “Maybe you’d like to know why we’re riding you so hard. I’ve got a pretty long memory and I remember you making some pretty rash statements when your old man died.”
“That was years ago.”
Without blinking, Logan stared him down. “You made no bones about the fact that you blamed Julius Danvers, Witt’s father, for that accident at the restaurant.”
Anthony’s face flushed.
“You swore vengeance on the whole Danvers clan.”
The corners of Polidori’s mouth tightened but his eyes shone with a hate so pure it chilled Logan’s leather-tough soul. “That was years ago. Julius Danvers—”
“Is dead.”
“—was a murdering bastard. He killed my father, Logan. You and I and all of Portland know it. He hired one of his thugs to pour some kerosene in the hotel and the whole damned thing went up in flames.” His nostrils flared as he leaned closer to the detective. “That inferno killed seven people. The only reason more didn’t lose their lives is because the hotel was closed that weekend. Someone who knew my father would be there gambled. And won.”
“Or your old man set it himself to collect the insurance.” Logan loved playing devil’s advocate.
Polidori’s jaw clenched. “He was killed, Logan. He was knocked over the head and left in his office in the hotel while kerosene was poured all around and over his body and then someone just struck a match and dropped it. I’ll never know if my father died unconscious or if he was awake, screaming and writhing, feeling the agony of hot flames eating away his flesh. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wonder.” He sipped his drink and caught Logan’s gaze in the mirror over the bar. “Stephano was a decent man. A faithful husband. A good father. And he was turned into a human torch by Julius Danvers. Witt knew all about it.”
“Conjecture.”
Polidori’s smile turned deadly. “How much is he paying you to keep you in his corner, Jack? Whatever it is, it isn’t enough.”
A muscle ticked in Logan’s jaw. He thought about reaching for his drink, but settled back in the chair, hoping to appear unruffled. “Let’s get back to Witt’s little girl. Where is she?”
“I don’t know. As I said before, there’s nothing I can tell you.”
“You didn’t decide to finally extract your revenge by stealing the kid?”
“Get serious.” Polidori snorted, but his knuckles whitened as he gripped his glass.
“What better way to make Witt twist in the wind than by stealing his daughter? You couldn’t do anything that would hurt him more.”
“Trust me, I didn’t do it. Now, if you’re going to continue to badger me, I’m calling my lawyer.” He walked to his desk and reached for the phone.
“I don’t believe you.” Logan’s voice was flat and he stared at Polidori so hard he noticed the tiny beads of sweat collecting at the old man’s graying sideburns. He was guilty as hell. But of what?
“Doesn’t matter what you believe, Jack. It’s what you can prove. Now, either you’re here for a social visit and if you are, mind your manners and drink the whiskey I so graciously offered you. If you’re here on police business, you’d better charge me with something or get the hell out of my house.”
Jack didn’t budge. Now he was getting somewhere. Polidori had lost his cool. “Joey Siri and Rudy Gianotti worked for you.”
