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She giggled to herself before taking a long glug of the celery juice. Jessie felt mildly ill watching her. A few seconds later, Matthew Zellers walked through the door.
He was not what Jessie imagined a television writer for a crime show would look like. Easily six foot two and 210 pounds, he looked more like a bodybuilder than a guy who spent hours behind a computer screen. She wondered if he wished he was in front of the camera rather than behind it. He smiled broadly at Jessie.
“Have you come to criticize the show’svérité elements?” he asked as he stood next to his wife. “Because I’ll tell you what I tell the other law enforcement types who like to complain. I work on a television show. It’s not real life.”
Somehow he managed to sound friendly despite the charged comment. Jessie noted that the couple’s proximity to each other would make studying their reactions to her questions much easier.
“I’m not interested in your show,” she said sharply, deciding it was time to take charge of the conversation. “I need to talk to you about something else entirely. Do you know a woman named Michaela Penn?”
The Zellers wore matching clueless expressions.
“I don’t think so,” Matthew said. “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“What about Melissa Mackenzie?”
That question got a different reaction. The look the couple exchanged this time was much more knowing.
“We know Melissa well,” Helen said. “Why?”
“She’s dead,” Jessie said flatly.
She added nothing more, watching to see how they’d respond. Both of their faces fell at the same time. They looked genuinely stunned and in Helen’s case, devastated.
“Are you sure?” Matthew asked.
“I am,” Jessie said, pressing ahead, intentionally not letting them get their bearings. “Her real name was Michaela Penn and she was murdered the night before last. What can you tell me about your relationship to her?”
Again the couple looked at each other. This time, there was uncertainty on both their faces.
“I wouldn’t say we had…” Matthew began.
“Before you answer, Mr. Zellers,” Jessie interrupted, “please remember that if I’m talking to you, I obviously have a general sense of the circumstances. So please don’t insult me by trying to dissemble. You can save us all some time by just being forthright.”
Neither Zellers spoke for several seconds. Helen finally cleared her throat.
“We were close,” she said quietly. “I assume you know about what she did for a living?”
“How close?” Jessie asked, ignoring the question directed at her.
Matthew took over.
“I saw one of her videos and reached out to her. Helen and I have a very…accommodating relationship and she agreed that Melissa, should she be interested, might add a little spice to our home life.”
“You can dispense with the euphemisms, Mr. Zellers,” Jessie said.
His brow furrowed.
“I want to be direct, Ms. Hunt,” he said. “We want to help in whatever way we can. But as you might gather, we have some apprehension about how what we say might be used against us. Can you give us assurances that that you’re only looking for information about Melissa’s death and not other legal indiscretions?”
“I can’t make any promises other than to tell you finding Michaela’s killer is my top priority,” Jessie said. “Other violations of law are secondary at this point.”
She wanted to give them the room to be honest but wasn’t going to foreclose on the possibility of pursuing people who were paying for sex with an underage girl.
“Matthew,” Helen said, her voice quavering, “let’s tell her what we know. We can handle any consequences for our actions. If anything we tell Ms. Hunt can help find out who did this, we should speak up.”
Matthew weighed her words briefly before nodding.
“I contacted her through an agency called Courtesan Companions. They connect porn actresses with people who want to be with them in person,” he said. “She reached out and we set something up.”
