Fisher shrugged, the downward turn of his lips suggesting he was fighting hard for control. “Theodora called as soon as she heard.”
Andi could feel his brows shooting to his hairline. The wife had informed the lover, but not the son? The sudden tension in George’s body next to him told him his partner was as surprised by this turn of events as Andi was.
“Please, take a seat.” Fisher gestured to the two chairs in front of his neatly organized desk.
“First, let me tell you we’re very sorry for your loss. And please forgive me for being so forward, but Theodora Miller informed you about the death of her husband?”
The ghost of a smile appeared on Jeremy’s lips. “I know, it sounds strange. Which very aptly describes my entire relationship with Lawrence.” He looked out of the floor-to-ceiling window with a wistful sigh. “It was a very good strange, though.”
“Could you please enlighten us? As you may have guessed, this is a murder investigation, and even though you don’t have to talk to us, it would help us a great deal.” Andi kept his tone neutral, trying to get Fisher’s help by appealing to his sense of justice, which, given his palpable sorrow, had to be running high at the moment. Surely the man wanted his lover’s killer or killers brought to justice.
“Well, Lawrence was in an open relationship with Theodora. Or more precisely, he was in a relationship with me and kept Theodora as his beard.”
“You want to tell us Lawrence was with you before he married Theodora?” Andi didn’t try to keep the disbelief out of his voice.
“Yes. You can ask her; it’s all in her prenup. After Lawrence had his divorce from Angelica because of my predecessor, and after he broke up with himbecauseof the divorce, he had learned his lesson. When he met me, it was clear from the beginning that we would never be official, but I was fine with that because I had my own career to think about, and our arrangement was perfect as far as I was concerned. After a while and when the gossip about his new bachelor status reached the point where he had to do something, Lawrence found Theodora through a matchmaking service. She was a good deal younger than him, but their goals matched. He needed a wife he could parade around at social events, thus shutting up all the old hags who love nothing more than a juicy scandal, and she wanted financial security. Not having to fulfill her duties as wife in bed was an added bonus for her. She signed an NDA, and in case of a divorce the amount of money she would get was not only clearly outlined but also very generous.”
“And what would you have gotten if you had broken up with Mr. Miller?” This whole conversation was so bizarre, Andi decided to just ride it out.
“I’ve got my own money. I don’t need his. Lawrence did install a trust for me in case of his death. It was his way of showing how much he cared.” The slight wavering in Jeremy Fisher’s voice showed clearly how muchhecared.
“You really loved him.” It was a statement from Andi’s side, not a question.
Fisher shrugged. “What can I say? He was an asshole, just like me. Probably the reason we got along so well.” He rubbed his face with his left hand. “I’m fully aware how weird our relationship must look for you. In the past few months, Lawrence had started thinking about making us official, but I’m not sure how serious he was. Times have surely changed a lot, and he certainly could have gotten away with it.”
“Did Theodora know?”
“Yes. You may not believe it, but Lawrence had a relationship of equals with her. And she’s the most pragmatic woman I’ve ever met. As long as her financial bottom line wasn’t endangered, she couldn’t care less what Lawrence did. Her words, not mine.”
“We’re going to verify this with her, of course.” Again, there was no threat in Andi’s voice. It usually took him longer to be sold on a suspect’s story, especially when his occupation was such a perfect link to the way the crime was conducted, but Jeremy Fisher’s grief was real, and the way he talked about the entire arrangement he had had with Lawrence and Theodora Miller suggested it was genuine. Of course, the man still wasn’t completely off the hook; nobody was until the case was solved. He had lost the number one spot, though. Now that the actual interview was over, Andi left the polite chitchat to George. This eventually led to them leaving the labs on their way back into town and to the office of Gideon Gartner, which was located in the Downtown Charleston Historic District. It took them less than five minutes to find the office in one of the historic buildings, not enough time to talk in depth about the bombshells Jeremy Fisher had just dropped on them.
When they entered the building, Andi stopped dead in his tracks. The sudden silence crashing into him with the force of a freight train was a shock to his system. George was at his side immediately, clasping his upper arms and staring directly into Andi’s eyes with so much worry, it would have touched Andi a lot more if he hadn’t been so busy cataloging what was going on with his senses. The entrance door was closed, and there was no underlying humming, no barrage of anything. Just his own sense of smell and sight and touch and hearing. Nothing was amplified, nothing distorted, no strange signals he had to translate in order to not get crazy from their constant impact on his brain.
“Andi! Andi! Is everything all right? How many are in here? Should I take you outside again?”
Andi put his hands on George’s where they rested on his biceps. “No, everything’s fine. It’s quiet in here. Completely, blissfully quiet.”
George furrowed his brows. “You mean there are no insects in here?”
Andi nodded.
“But you once told me they’re everywhere, all the time.”
“They usually are, especially in a building as old as this one. My guess is they had the entire structure fumigated. Recently. The day before yesterday, otherwise the first ones would already be back.”
George let go of Andi’s arms. “I don’t know if I should be happy about the reprieve you’re getting or afraid for my health because of all the poison surrounding us.”
“Well, it’s a tie. I’m sure you can make it up by doing some extra miles and downing more of that disgusting green smoothie shit you’re so fond of.”
“If only you would try them, you’d see how good they are for you.”
“Thank you, but no thank you. Let’s go find Mr. Gartner.” Andi walked with a definite spring in his step, enjoying the silence in his mind. He had to admit he felt a bit empty, the absence of the insects in his head almost deafening in its hush. It was weird, too, seeing the marble steps and just registering, yep, steps, made from pretty stone with an interesting pattern. Nothing more. So good. No unwanted information about the structure of the building, about all the nooks and crannies nobody really wanted to know about. They reached the first floor, where a polished brass sign announced the location of Gartner & Partners to be on the second floor. Again, Andi took the stairs. Because there were no insights from the arthropods, he wasn’t willing to take the risk of a faulty elevator.
On the second floor, they were greeted by a wide hall with marble tiles on the ground, a subdued yellow paint on the walls, which went well with the dark oak doors—or was it walnut? Pine? No, pine tended to be lighter. Andi found himself thinking about the strangest things. It was of no consequence what kind of wood the doors were made of. Not to their case and certainly not to him and George personally. And yet he couldn’t shake the feeling of being bereft, of lacking vital information. He shook his head. Of course, such was his luck that the one time he got a reprieve—however short-lived it was—from hisgeschenk, it turned out to be a double-edged sword. It also showed him how much he subconsciously relied on the things the arthropods told him. A sobering thought and one that made him angry, frustrated, and afraid at the same time. Not a good combination when they would be meeting a potential suspect.
The first door to their right was open, another brass plate telling visitors to check in here. Andi went over the threshold and into a warm room with a counter made from some dark, gleaming wood—he wouldn’t waste time guessing what kind, oh no—a thick carpet with a beautiful pattern in different shades of blue, and two receptionists, one of them screaming stereotype with her immaculate blond chignon, the sharply shaped body of somebody who had been missing a lot of meals in her life, and enough makeup to cover any and all signs of possible age. The other one was a young man with dark hair and eyes, a manbun that somehow managed to look respectable, and a tailored suit in a light gray. The man stepped forward with a smile.
“Good day. How can I help you, gentlemen?”
