AllFreeNovel
Share Us
52
Mia
Alex Harrington’s Brownstone
Upper East Side
New York City
Saturday evening
“Good evening, Mr. Harrington.”
Alex stared at the cop he’d met yesterday, near Kent’s cubicle in the ICU, bundled to his ears against the frigid weather. “It’s Detective Hoolihan, isn’t it? You came to tell me you’ve found out who shot my friend?”
Hoolihan said, “We’d like to speak with both you and Ms. Barrett.”
“But we’ve told you everything we know, Detective, yesterday. Have you at least learned anything new?”
Hoolihan said nothing, nodded behind him. “I believe you know Ms. Briscoe, and these are FBI agents Sherlock and Maitland.”
Sherlock gave Alex her sunny smile, held out her creds. Tommy did the same. Harrington waved them away.
Pamela appeared behind him. “Alex? What’s going on? Who are these people? Oh, good evening, Detective, I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”
Alex said, “Pam, it’s Detective Hoolihan. We spoke to him yesterday, about Kent.”
“Yes, of course, Detective Hoolihan. Forgive me, I’m so worried about Kent, and of course, Mr. Harrington had to end his mayoral race—” She abruptly stopped, shook her head, but then she spotted Mia, and her eyes fired. “You! Why are you here? Don’t think we don’t know who was behind those ridiculous sex questions at Alex’s press conference yesterday. I’m going to see to it you’re fired. I already called your boss.” She paused, frowned. “You’re a disgrace.”
Mia knew what Milo had said to Pamela, and he hadn’t been all that pleasant. She said, “Actually, Pammie, you have no idea what I am, but I promise you, you’re going to find out.”
“How dare you call me that! And just what does that mean, you unethical—”
Detective Hoolihan smoothly interrupted. “Actually we’re here to speak to you about the murder of a student, Serena Winters, seven years ago at Godwyn University.”
Pamela snapped out, “Who? What are you talking about? What does a murdered student have to do with Alex? Where in the world is Godwyn University?”
Even though Pamela had tried to hide it, Mia heard alarm in her voice. So Alex told you something about it, did he, Pam? Anice believable lie? Bet he didn’t tell you about Juliet. Mia didn’t look at her; she kept her eyes on Alex, almost applauded him when he smoothly morphed a brief flash of shock into bewilderment.
Miasmiled at him, watched him start, then frown at her. Thetsunami’s here at your front door, Alex, no escape for you. And you’re wondering how to play it. She’d bet he was weighing whether to cry lawyer. She prayed he was too arrogant to let any lesser human being speak for him, at least not yet. Yes, Alex, deal with this yourself. You don’t need a lawyer. You’re so much smarter than they are, aren’t you?
She wanted to cheer when she saw his ego win out. He said calmly, with only a civilized hint of annoyance, “I don’t recall that name, Detective.”
“Serena Winters,” Hoolihan said, stolid as a judge. “She was a twenty-year-old student at Godwyn University seven years ago. Godwyn University is in Pennsylvania, thirty or so miles west of Philadelphia.”
Alex merely looked at him, ignored the sarcasm. “Thank you for the location. As I said, I don’t recall her name. Is that all you wanted to ask me?”
Hoolihan said, a bit of steel in his voice, “No, Mr. Harrington, we’re far from through. We can either speak about this here or we can go down to the station. Your choice. But make it snappy, the wind out here is frigid.”
Alex stepped back, waved them in, and closed the door. “Very well. Ms. Barrett and I are quite busy. It isn’t easy to close down a campaign. I hope we can clear up any misunderstanding quickly.”
He took Pamela’s hand and they turned together to lead them down a wide hallway, its white walls covered with incredible Dutch pastoral paintings, not, thank heavens, with Pamela’s signature minimalist style. An elegant antique table was centered beneath them, a tall clear vase on top filled with red roses so abundant they overflowed the surface.
They walked into a living room with twelve-foot ceilings and ornate plaster moldings that took you back in time. What looked to be the original wooden shutters covered the oversized windows that faced a line of brownstones across the street, dark gold draperies pulled tight against the frigid night. Ah, but this room had enjoyed Pamela’s stark hand, all black-and-white pictures, stark and flat. No soul, Mia thought. She felt Pamela’s barely banked rage from six feet away, violent and hot. Mia gave her a fat smile, watched her blink in surprise.
Tommy was staring steadily at Harrington with a look as violent as Pamela’s. Keep it together, Tommy, we’re at the finish line.
The room felt warm and cozy, with the fire burning sluggishly in the Carrera marble fireplace. Alex walked to the fireplace, turned to face them, his arms crossed, calm, poised. Pam walked to stand behind a stark black chair, her eyes once again on Mia.
