Honestly, she was worried about him. His voice was higher, and he looked about ready to burn the building down—on his own.
Rightfully so.
She had a gold-baron’s mansion, she felt like that about.
Only, she needed that scene just in case the techs had to redo it.
“You don’t own eyeballs. It’s evidence. We’ve removed it, but we need to figure out what the hell went on there. Do you have security?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Thank you for getting that mess out of there for me. As for security, yes, a private company drives by, like at a mall. It’s Farmington Security,” he said. “They do a drive by twice a night between eleven and six in the morning to keep it looter and encampment-free. If the city catches the homeless there, they fine me.”
To make sure she had everything, Devon found the information on the computer, and printed it out. He rolled over, and grabbed the paper.
“Here’s the contact. When I acquired it last year, I couldn’t do security cameras. There’s no power to the building. Again, I can’t get it turned on without permits. See my conundrum and the council nightmare? I didn’t think it could be worse, but here we are.”
Well, this was about as bad as it got.
When his phone buzzed, his secretary gave him the heads-up.
“Your attorney is here.”
He glanced over at Elizabeth.
“Can he come back? Or do you want to do this alone?” he asked, giving her the choice.
Oh, well, why not kill two interviews with one stop?
“Let him back.”
He told his secretary.
Then, he hung up.
“Devon, we know this is not fun for you, but we will do all we can to help you through this. My suggestion is this, and I’m not one to recommend breaking the law. Hire someone to close it up. Getting fined by the city for doing ‘construction’ without permits is a far better option than having someone continue on with this mess.”
He nodded.
“Oh, I am. Fuck the permits, but excuse my French, Director. I’m just frustrated and angry. My father’s legacy, and mine, shouldn’t be this. He was a philanthropist. Do you know how difficult it is to continue that when you have a bunch of eyeballs in a jar tied to your name? That’s horrifying! Someone is out of their damn minds!”
Oh, no one knew better than her. Unfortunately, eyeballs in a jar were a norm in her world.
Oddly enough.
When the door opened, in came the man, and he hauled ass. It was clear that Larry was worried.
Big-time.
He was in a relatively pricy suit, and shiny shoes. The bad combover wasn’t helping him out at all.
“Don’t say another thing, Devon. Whatever the FBI wants, they can’t ask you anything without a warrant or me here!”
Elizabeth stood up.
The man came to a stop, and stared at her.
“What is it that you’re accusing my client of doing, Director?” he asked, practically jumping down her throat.
