Debra Webb - A Deeper Grave

“Person of interest,” Devine corrected. “You and many others are persons of interest.”

“I see,” Hanover acquiesced, his smug expression giving away his amusement. “I expect that’s the less threatening of the terms.” His tone was openly condescending, the words directed at the younger man.

Bobbie watched him carefully. He was completely relaxed and enjoying the interview. “You’re quite the collector of—” she indicated the room at large “—daggers and swords.”

“I am, indeed.” He glanced around the enormous space. “My father started the collection when I was a child. We spent several years in Tokyo. I attended my first five years of school there.” As if to emphasize the point he added, “Chosen-teki nado no yona jokyo wareware wa-chu ni jibun jishin o mitsukemasu.”

Bobbie exchanged a look with Devine who appeared annoyed and said, “I assume that was Japanese.”

Hanover gave a nod of acknowledgment. “I said, ‘What a challenging position we find ourselves in.’ Wouldn’t you agree?”

Bobbie had friends who’d majored in international business in college. Learning Japanese and Chinese was considered beneficial for those who wanted to make their mark in the Asian market. She wasn’t surprised Hanover was proficient in one or both. Was he trying to impress them? “You lost a couple million dollars to Nigel Parker’s Ponzi scheme.”

“I did.” He leaned back and draped one arm across the back of the sofa. “If you’re asking me if I murdered Nigel and his wife and took his daughter, the answer is no. As much as it pains me to lose money, I have plenty more where that came from.”

“Were you a client of his wife’s?” Might as well cut to the chase. Maybe the man’s divorce was about his inability to stay faithful. His personality certainly left something to be desired. Bobbie wasn’t particularly fond of braggarts.

Hanover smiled and glanced directly at Devine before responding. “As much as I enjoy beautiful women, frankly, I would have been far more likely to be involved with Nigel than his wife.”

You guessed that one right, Bobbie. “You’re the only one of his clients who owns rare daggers and swords.”

He cocked his head and studied her, more of that amusement sparkling in his eyes. “What are you suggesting, Detective Gentry?”

“We aren’t suggesting anything, sir,” Devine responded before she could. “We’d like to examine your collection.”

Her partner leaned forward as he spoke, his expression and tone daring the other man to deny them access. Did these two know each other? This was the first time she’d noticed her partner’s inability to avoid a pissing contest. She’d certainly never had him speak over her as if she weren’t in the room.

“We can get a warrant,” Bobbie pointed out, looking from one man to the other. There was no need to play games.

Hanover turned his full attention back to her. “That won’t be necessary, Detective Gentry.” He stood and fastened the center button on his elegant suit jacket. “Examine my collection to your heart’s desire.” He touched a finger to his lips as if he’d only just recalled a relevant detail. “While you’re at it, perhaps you can find the century-old dagger that was stolen from me last month. I’m certain the officer who came to the house filed a report.” He squared his shoulders. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of preparing for an urgent business trip.”

Bobbie stood. Devine did the same. “Mr. Hanover, I’m afraid there may be a problem with your planned travel.”

Hanover scrutinized her for another long moment, whether it was curiosity or irritation in his eyes Bobbie couldn’t say for sure. “You look like your mother.”

Taken aback by the unexpected statement, Bobbie flinched before she could school the reaction. “Excuse me?”

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