Chapter Nine
Jackson plowed right into the hotel room when Park let him in.
“Has there been a development?” Park asked, a little stunned to see Jackson without any kind of warning. Particularly since they’d agreednotto meet in hotel rooms. At least he was still in shirtsleeves and hadn’t started his night routine yet.
“Not...exactly. Is anyone else around?”
Park took adeep breath to try to get his heart to stop pounding. “Martha’s working next door. Most of the rest of the staff has either gone home, gone back to their respective offices, or is kicking around the hotel.”
Jackson appeared to consider that. He glanced at the door to Martha’s adjoining room. “All right. Well, I...I want to apologize, first of all.”
“For what?”
“I’ve let your reappearancein my life cloud my judgment, and I’m not as on my game as I usually am. I need to ask you some questions, things I probably should have asked you two days ago. I spent a few hours with my partner, and we hashed out some—What?”
“What? Nothing.”
“You made a face.”
Park worked to make his face as bland and neutral as possible. His jealousy had been white-hot until he realized Jacksonwas talking about his law partner, and even then, Park wasn’t part of Jackson’s life anymore. He pushed those feelings aside and took a deep breath. “I didn’t make a face.”
“You looked alarmed.”
“I accept your apology.”
Jackson gestured toward the sofa. He pulled the desk chair over and then motioned for Park to sit. Jackson got out a pad of paper while Park sat.
“Let’s start over,”Jackson said. “I need to ask you some questions, mostly about the night of the murder. I’ve actually been a terrible lawyer, but you make it hard for me to think straight. Okay?”
Jackson’s expression was earnest, but he bit his thumbnail while he waited for Park to respond, a sure tell that he was nervous. It must have killed Jackson to admit he’d acted unprofessionally, but Park couldn’thelp but take comfort in the fact that he’d gotten to Jackson.
“I already told you I forgive you. Could asking for that not wait until tomorrow?”
Jackson dropped his hand from his mouth and moved like he wanted to run it through his hair before he thought better of it. Jackson was really off his game. A few strands of hair fell across his forehead; Jackson only ever looked this disheveledwhen he was feeling stress. Park wasn’t so naïve as to not know he was the cause of it, but that fact awed him just the same.
“No, not exactly. I want to talk about the case.”
Park didn’t believe him—something else was clearly on Jackson’s mind—but he said, “Okay.”
“So, Reed dug up some evidence, and—”
“This Reed guy. He’s a good lawyer? Good partner?”
“He’s good, yeah. Whydo you ask—Oh, I get it.” Jackson laughed and shook his head. “Reed and I went into business together when I left the DA’s office. He understands tax law better than any professor I had in law school and he thinks well on his feet in the courtroom. His first name is Michael, by the way, but nobody calls him that. Also, he’s straight and married to a woman. For the record.”
It was foolish ofPark to have thought anything else. “Sorry. Go on.”
Jackson looked at his notes. “All right. Well, first, who has keys to your apartment?”
“Besides me? My housekeeper, Fatima. My cousin Sharon because her daughter comes by to water my plants if I’m out of town for more than a week at a time. And Ramon the doorman keeps a set in case of emergency. I believe that’s it.”
“Does Ramon keepthe keys in plain sight?”
“No. There’s a locked drawer in the front desk. And Ramon guards everyone’s privacy pretty fiercely.”
“Do you remember if he was working the night of the murder?”
Park closed his eyes and tried to remember if he’d seen Ramon that night. Ramon was the primary doorman, but he had a handful of assistants who typically worked weekday shifts, when the buildinghad less traffic. Ramon was at the desk almost every time Park came and went from the building, so he didn’t often think of the other doormen and didn’t know most of their names. But that night, Park had wheeled in a suitcase from the trip to Buffalo, and a man had helped—not Ramon.
