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The door opened, and an officer stuck his head around. “Detective Mitchell? You have a visitor, Interview Room Three.” He held out a card. “He said to give you this.”
Gary took it and stilled. “Thanks.” He waited until the door closed before glancing at Dan. “Aaron Stillwater.”
“Who’s he?”
“An attorney, according to this.” And Gary had a pretty good idea who had hired him. “I wonder if we’ve rattled someone.” He grabbed his jacket and notepad. “Let’s go find out.”
They walked briskly to the interview rooms, and Gary paused at the door. “Let me do all the talking, okay?”
“Absolutely.”
Gary entered the small room. Aaron Stillwater was a short man whose thick dark hair didn’t match his wrinkled face. His Ted Baker suit was a good fit, and Gary had a feeling the flash of gold from the heavy, expensive-looking watch on Stillwater’s wrist was the real thing.
“Detective Mitchell?” Stillwater didn’t crack a smile. “I’m here at the behest of my client, Paul DiFanetti. It seems you’ve been investigating him.”
“That’s my job.” Gary looked him in the eye. “And if your client truly sold the original Bridgman painting, then he has nothing to worry about.”
“I believe he told you to pass on any questions you may have to me. Except you didn’t. I only found out about the inquiries you’re pursuing when my client received a phone call today.” He narrowed his gaze. “You told Mr. Webster his painting is a forgery. I could sue you for—”
Gary held his hand up. “Excuse me, but I didn’t say that.” He’d been very carefulnotto say that. “I simply told Mr. Webster there was some doubt about the authenticity of his purchase, and that perhaps he should have it verified—again.”
Stillwater frowned. “I am here to ask you to desist in your investigation.”
“And if we don’t?”
The cold glint in Stillwater’s eyes sent a shiver through him. “Do not pursue this, Detective Mitchell. Because if you insist on trying to implicate Mr. DiFanetti in this matter, you may not like the consequences.”
Gary arched his eyebrows. “I’ll say the same thing to you that I said to your boss yesterday—that sounds suspiciously like a threat.” He pointed to the door. “And if that’s all,Mr. Stillwater, you’ll find the exit that way.”
Stillwater drew himself up to his full height—which had to be about five feet five—and leveled one final malevolent stare. “The next time we meet will probably be in court, Detective.” And with that he strode past them, flung the door open, and closed it with a bang.
Dan expelled a breath. “You like living dangerously, don’t you?”
Gary glanced at him. “You think he’s dangerous?”
“Er, yes? Just listening to him made me shiver.” Then he smiled. “It also made me think we’re onto something.”
“Then let’s hope Lori can prove DiFanetti sold Webster the copy. Because if she does that, DiFanetti won’t have a leg to stand on.”
“And if she doesn’t, you just made an enemy.”
Gary didn’t want to think about that.
GARY SWITCHEDoff the engine. “I amsoready to kick back this evening.” He got out of the car. “How about pizza, a couple of beers, and a movie?” Not to mention a comfortable couch.
Dan raised his eyes heavenward. “You had me at pizza.” They walked along the path that led to the main door of the apartment building. “What time do we need to be out of here tomorrow morning?”
“It’ll take us over two hours to get to Lenox.” Beside him, Dan came to a halt, and Gary glanced at him. “What’s wrong? Did you forget something?”
Dan gave a shudder. “There’s someone at the door.”
Gary jerked his head in that direction. A tall slim figure emerged from beneath the porch, wearing jeans, boots, and a black leather jacket.
“Detective Mitchell?”
Gary took a step toward him, and Dan grabbed his arm.
“Careful.”
