After a two-hour catnap, Jenner rapped on the door of Dan Gardner's hotel suite. Beside him Finn was running through a mental list of questions he wanted answered.
"He'd better be in the mood to talk this time." Jenner only shrugged. He didn't mind taking the long route, as long as it ended in the right place. "Hard to talk when you're sedated."
"Conveniently," Finn murmured. "Guy's wife gets snuffed, he's entitled to break down."
"Wouldn't you think he'd want some details before he went under, Lieutenant? The way I see it, the longer he delays talking to you, the longer he has to formulate an alibi. Angela Perkins was a wealthy woman. Care to guess who's the chief beneficiary?"
"Then if he killed her, he'd have been stupid not to have an alibi to begin with. I've got a feeling you're a man used to being in charge of things."
"And?"
"You're going to have to take a backseat here. I've got an instinct about you, Mr. Riley, so I'm letting you tag along–
that way I can pick your brain. But you're going to have to remember who's running this investigation."
"Cops and reporters have a lot in common, Lieutenant. We won't be the first who've used each other."
"Nope." Jenner heard the rattle of the chain. "But that doesn't change the pecking order."
Finn nodded grudgingly as the door opened. Dan Gardner looked like a man who'd been on a wild, two-day bender. His face was gray, his eyes sunken, and his hair stood out in tufts. His black silk robe and pajamas added an elegance that only accented his unkempt appearance, like fresh gilt on a tattered painting.
"Mr. Gardner?"
"Yeah." Dan brought a cigarette to his lips, gulping in smoke like water.
"I'm Detective Jenner." He held up his badge. Dan glanced at it, then spotted
Finn. "Hold it. What's he doing here?" "Research," Finn said.
"I'm not talking to any reporters, especially this one."
"That's funny, coming from someone who woos the press like a lovesick suitor." Finn put a hand on the door before Dan could shut it. "I'll keep it off the record. But I can tell you, you're better off speaking with me when you've got a cop around. I'm in a real bad mood."
"I'm not well."
"I sympathize, Mr. Gardner," Jenner put in before Finn could comment. "You're certainly not obliged to speak in Mr. Riley's presence, but I have a feeling he'll just come back. Why don't we try it this way, and keep this as short as possible? It would be easier on you to do this here than to come to the station."
Dan stared at them both a moment, then with a shrug, he turned around, leaving the door open.
The drapes were still drawn, giving the parlor of the suite a gloomy air. The smell of cigarettes was strong, mixing uneasily with the fragrance from the two huge vases of roses flanking the sofa.
Dan sat between them, blinking when Jenner switched on a lamp.
"I'm sorry to have to disturb you at this time, Mr. Gardner," Jenner began. "But I need your cooperation."
Dan said nothing, only took another greedy drag from the cigarette. Angela's brand, he thought, and felt the smoke sting bitterly in his throat.
"Can you tell us what you know about your wife's activities yesterday?"
"Besides getting murdered?" With a humorless laugh, he roused himself to go to the bar and pour a generous portion of whiskey.
Finn only lifted a brow as Dan drank it down, poured again. It was barely ten A.m.
"It would help," Jenner continued, "if we had a clear sense of her movements throughout the day. Where she went, who she had contact with."
"She got up about ten." Dan came back to the sofa. The whiskey helped, he realized. He felt as though he were gliding an inch above the floor. "She had a massage, had her hair and makeup done, a manicure. All here in the suite." He drank with one hand, smoked with the other, his movements mechanical and strangely rhythmic. "She did a print interview, Chicago Tribune, then went downstairs to the ballroom for the luncheon. She had several other appointments through the day— interviews, meetings. Most of them here in the suite."
He crushed out the cigarette, sat back with the blue haze of smoke hovering over his head like a dirty halo.
"Were you with her?" Finn demanded. Dan shot him one resentful glance, then shrugged. "I was in and out. Mostly out. Angela didn't like distractions when she was dealing with the press. She had a dinner interview with Premiere magazine to hype her next special." In a jerky movement, he reached over to yank another cigarette from the pack on the coffee table. "She told me she didn't know how long it would run, and that she had a later meeting afterward, that I should go out to a blues bar and amuse myself."
"And did you?" Jenner asked.
"I had a steak, a couple of drinks, listened to some piano at the Pump Room."
Jenner noted it down. "Did you have any company?"
"I wasn't in the mood for company. We haven't had a lot of time to relax in the past few months, so I took advantage of it." His bloodshot eyes narrowed. "Are you looking for Angela's schedule, or mine?"
"Both," Jenner said pleasantly. He doodled a bit, a quick sketch of the room, of Dan Gardner's face. "It helps if we have a clear sense of things. When did you last see your wife, Mr. Gardner?"
"Just before seven, when she was getting ready for dinner."
"And did she tell you she planned to meet Deanna Reynolds at CBC later that night?"
"No." He bit the word off. "If she had, I would have discouraged it." He leaned forward now, enough of a showman to know which lines to punch. "He knows it, too," he added, jerking his head toward Finn. "That's why he wants in on the investigation, to try to head it off. It's no secret Deanna Reynolds hated my wife, was envious and driven to destroy her. I have no doubt that she killed Angela, or had her killed."
"That's an interesting theory," Finn mused. "Is that the line you're going to feed through your publicist?"
Jenner cleared his throat. "Did Miss Reynolds make any threats against your wife that you're aware of?"
Dan's eyes cut back to Jenner, bored in. "I told you, she attacked her physically once before. Christ knows she attacked her emotionally dozens of times over the years. She wanted Angela out of the way. Now she is. That should be clear enough. What are you doing about it?"
"We're looking into it," Jenner said mildly. "Mr. Gardner, what time did you return to the hotel last night?"
"Twelve-thirty, one o'clock."
"Did you meet anyone, speak with anyone who could verify that?"
"I resent the implication, Lieutenant. My wife is dead." He stabbed out the cigarette, breaking it in two. "And from what I've been told, there was only one person with her." He stared at Finn, secure that he could say whatever he chose with impunity. "A person who had every reason to hurt her. I don't appreciate being asked to supply an alibi."
"But can you?" Finn countered.
His teeth snapped together. "You're really reaching, aren't you, Riley? Do you really think you can throw the police off Deanna and onto me?"
Finn lifted a brow. "I don't believe you answered the question."
"It's possible one of the night clerks saw me come in. It's also possible that the waitress at the club would remember serving me, and what time I left. What kind of alibi does Deanna Reynolds have?"
Was it rage? Jenner wondered. Or was it fear that simmered in Gardner's voice? "I'm afraid I can't discuss that at this time. Do you have any idea how your wife might have gained access to the CBC Building and Studio B?"
"She worked there for some time," Dan said dryly. "I imagine she walked in. She'd know the way."
"There's a security system that wasn't in operation during the time your wife was based in the building." "Then I'd imagine Deanna let her in. Then she killed her." He shifted forward, resting one hand on the black silk covering his knee. "Imagine what this will do for her ratings, Lieutenant Jenner. He knows." Dan jabbed a finger toward Finn. "How many Nielsen homes will tune in to watch a cold-blooded killer, Riley? She'll murder the competition." He laughed, rubbing a hand over and over his face. "Just like she murdered Angela."