The mention of insects feeding meant Andi was a little more open than George would have preferred at the moment, considering they were going to interrogate a potential suspect. He refrained from mentioning it, though, knowing Andi was trying hard to shut the arthropods out as best as he could.
George parked the car in front of the building, and they both got out and went for the entrance. It was a double door with faux oak inlays that were chipping, and a surely once gleaming brass plate to the right where the names of the residing businesses had been engraved. Now there were printed-out papers covering most of the plate, announcing the new inhabitants of the building, the old ones long forgotten. Mr. Portius III had his office on the second floor, where they went via the stairs. Another thing George had learned quickly was to never enter a lift Andi didn’t want to set foot in. The staircase smelled of old food, a hint of mold, and some kind of detergent that obviously wasn’t able to keep the tiled floor clean. Not surprising given how many cracks George could spot in the reddish stone. He didn’t want to think about all the tiny legs hiding between and under those stones. When they reached the second floor, finding Portius’s office was easy—there were only three doors, one with red-and-white barrier tape and a shield warning people to keep out because of ongoing repairs, the other with the name of an overseas company written on the glass upper half of the door. The third door down the short corridor was the charm, announcing the office of David Hector Portius III, lawyer for family matters. The letters looked new, as did the door itself, a thing with a light wood veneer that seemed strangely out of place amidst the washed-out green linoleum of the floor and the yellow-tinged wallpapers with water stains close to the ceiling.
George glanced at Andi, who had his eyes closed in preparation for this confrontation. He reached for the bell next to the door, the shrill sound exactly what George had expected in this place. The small speaker beneath the bell button crackled ominously, before a distorted male voice asked them in, followed by a buzzing that sounded way too important for its surroundings. George opened the door and stepped inside, leaving it to Andi to close the door. His partner liked to stay in the background, observing, connecting information he got both from his human and insect senses, while George provided the distraction and took over the human interaction, later comparing the results to what Andi had learned. The system worked perfectly and was much easier on Andi’s mental well-being because he didn’t have to waste energy to conform to societal norms.
The office wasn’t big. There was a desk in one corner of the room and one open door to the right, leading into what looked like some kind of document storage room with high industrial shelves overflowing with boxes. Next to that door stood another small table with a Keurig on it, surrounded by several used mugs and coffee stains. The air was stale, though nothing opening the windows couldn’t cure. George focused on the man sitting behind the desk. David Hector III was even more unremarkable in life than he had looked in the picture. His Asian heritage from his mother’s side manifested itself in his sleek pitch-black hair and a slight slanting of his hazel eyes. The rest of his facial features as well as his build he had definitely gotten from his Caucasian father, as George could see when David Hector III got up to greet them. His suit was clearly not tailored, the sandy color not exactly doing him any favors. Neither did the light blue shirt, which could have given the outfit a bit more pep if only the person wearing it had been less boring. He didn’t look like a grieving son, which either meant they had for some reason beat Tamara Portius to informing him, or he had about as much feeling for his father as his mother had shown earlier that day.
“Good day. How can I help you?” The lawyer’s voice was as unremarkable as the rest of him, neither pleasant nor grating, it just was.
“Good day, Mr. Portius. My name is George Donovan, and this is my partner, Andrew Hayes. We’re detectives with the Charleston PD, and I’m afraid we have to inform you about the death of your father, David Hector II. His body was found yesterday in a small lake.”
While George flashed his badge, he kept a close eye on the lawyer, cataloging every twitch of his facial muscles. Or he would have, had there been twitches. Just like his mother and the wives of the other two victims, David Hector III was strangely unperturbed by the news of his sire’s death. His mouth formed anOwhile he slumped back onto his desk chair, and that was it. No tears, no demands to be told what happened, no accusations, no joy or relief either, two emotions George had seen a few times too often when delivering the news of a death.
“We’re very sorry for your loss.” George added the phrase out of politeness, not because he felt it or thought it would do any good. David Hector III shrugged.
“Thank you, Detectives. We weren’t close. I think the last time I saw my father was at Christmas, and then only briefly for afternoon tea. He had some function in the evening.”
Providing an alibi already. Or the semblance of one. George didn’t have to look at Andi to know his partner was regarding the lawyer sharply. Something about the man had all of George’s internal alarms shrilling, even more than Jake Castain, and that guy was a grade-A douche.
“I assume from your words you don’t know anything about you father’s daily schedules or habits?” George still kept it vague. They hadn’t mentioned murder yet, and he wanted to see if the man would eventually jump to that conclusion. It wasn’t a far stretch by any means. The police didn’t make a habit of sending detectives when there was a natural cause to a death, but George wanted to see if the lawyer could perhaps be tempted into saying more than he wanted to.
“As I said, we weren’t close. In his opinion, I wasn’t ambitious enough.” The lawyer made a gesture that included the entire small office.
There was a world of hurt in that one sentence. George had no problem with continuing to poke, though. “Is that the reason you’re not working in your father’s law firm?”
The wounded puppy dog look with the tragic twisting of the lips could have fooled George. Unfortunately for David Hector III, George made his living detecting liars, and the lawyer was lying through his teeth.
“We don’t—didn’t—see eye to eye in many things. I needed to get out from under his thumb, and opening my own business was the logical step.”
No in-depth information, no details, just enough to shut them up by hinting that their suspicions about a tragic father-son relationship were true. Andi shuffled at George’s back, stepping closer to him, which created an intimidating front for the sitting lawyer. George glanced at Andi, who narrowed his eyes, giving an imperceptible shake of his head. His partner wanted the suspiciously unperturbed son to think they had bought into his story. George returned his attention to the lawyer.
“We understand. Families are a complicated thing. Did you know your father was on a hunting trip this week?”
David Hector III shrugged. “I didn’t know it was this week specifically, but he always went on trips to the cabin during this time of the year. Usually with two of his oldest friends.”
George nodded his thanks, pulling out his wallet to hand the lawyer his card. They couldn’t ask for specific alibis yet, since they didn’t have an exact time of death, one Evangeline would hopefully provide soon. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Portius. We have to ask you to stay in the area of Charleston until our investigation is done. Should you think of anything that could help us in the matter, please don’t hesitate to contact us.”
David Hector III took the card without sparing it a glance. “I will. I wish you a nice afternoon, Detectives.”
George and Andi left the office, waiting until they were back in the car before they started talking.
“It seems Southern hospitality is dead. At least in these three families.” Andi made a face, as if he were appalled.
George snickered. “Would you have really wanted coffee or tea in one of those mugs?”
Andi shuddered. “No, definitely not. He hasn’t washed them in weeks.”
George started typing in the address of Lester Miller, who had his small marketing company on Wando Road, close to Palmetto Gardens. Once the GPS started giving him directions, he pulled back into traffic.
“Compassion also seems to be dead in these three families.”
“Definitely. He was neither surprised nor bothered by the news of his father’s death, very much like the wife.” Andi stared out the window. “David Hector II didn’t seem to be in line for Father or Husband of the Year Award.”
“Absolutely not. But the son’s not a helpless victim. This reeks of family feud.” And family feuds were always messy. George had seen enough of them to know as much. “The question is how bad is it, and who was willing to commit murder to end it?”
“The family is always under suspicion.” Andi chewed on his lower lip. “But I wouldn’t dismiss outward sources yet. People who invoke so little feelings in their supposedly loved ones usually have a great pool of enemies to draw from, at least in my experience. And all three of them killed in the same manner? That’s what keeps me wondering. If the wives acted together, how did they do it? And why? As far as I know, and I could be very wrong here, mind you, murdering your spouse isn’t an appropriate topic for polite company.”
George chuckled. “It isn’t. Most definitely not. My own mother would be appalled if anybody brought it up over tea. If the men really have been friends for years, the women and sons must know each other quite well.”
