“This woman you killed, was she married? Did she have children?”
“Well, yes, but I don’t see how that’s pertinent. It’s not my business to look at those things. I just take the contract, do the job and we’re done.”
Ezekiel moved away from the prisoner, as if he didn’t quite trust himself. “Keep going. I’d like to know what other jobs you’ve done for these men.”
“A couple of maintenance workers. Both jobs were recent. In the last couple of months. One was an old guy. He ‘fell’ down some stairs and broke his neck. The other was younger, and he stepped off the curb right in front of a car. Lived for a few hours.”
“Where did the maintenance men work?”
Henry shrugged his shoulders, a casual roll that annoyed the hell out of Malichai. This man was clearly bored with the conversation, as if the people he killed didn’t matter at all to him.
“They were part of some big group that has contracts with the San Diego Unified Port District. Seriously, none of that can matter. It was a while ago.”
“It matters or I wouldn’t be asking you these questions,” Ezekiel said. “I suggest you shut the hell up and just answer when I ask you to. You’ve already got me so pissed off I want to stick a knife through your fucking throat.”
Malichai’s head jerked up. He was truly shocked. Ezekiel just wasn’t like that. He kept a cool head. He was a doctor, a surgeon. A damn good one too. He didn’t just swear. This man was really getting to him. As prisoners they had to interrogate, Henry Shevfield seemed easy. He just answered, certain, because he was wearing a hood, that they would let him go. He didn’t mind answering because there was no proof to back up any allegations they might make against him to the authorities. Besides, the jobs had been completed.
Henry pressed his lips together tightly. He had to have heard the danger in Ezekiel’s voice.
“The recent killings, Anna and Bryon Cooper, tourists staying at the bed-and-breakfast. Did you have anything to do with those killings?”
“No way. Sloppy job.” He sounded contemptuous. “The cops already are suspicious, I could tell when I was watching them examining the crime scene. Whoever wanted it done should have asked me.”
There was a long silence, as if Ezekiel were trying to pull himself together. When he did speak, his voice was under control. “Any other jobs asked of you by these two customers?” he pressed.
Henry hesitated for the first time and Ezekiel exploded into action, backhanding the prisoner so hard, the chair went flying backward, proving his control had been a sham. There was no way for Henry to stop his fall and he landed hard on the cement floor of the garage. Trap and Mordichai righted the chair and prisoner while Ezekiel paced across the garage, trying to get rid of the adrenaline pounding through his veins—a direct reaction to Henry’s sociopathic behavior.
Do you want me to take over? Malichai asked tentatively. He didn’t want Ezekiel to think he thought his brother was losing it and couldn’t finish the interview.
No, I’m all right. It’s just that he’s so casual about killing a woman with a family, or shoving an older man down the stairs as if that man were trash. People like this man . . .
I get it, Malichai assured. And he did. They saw so many good soldiers die. Sometimes, when they went on a rescue, it seemed like they saw nothing but body parts or dead soldiers. They go to a beautiful place like San Diego and some man runs around killing for hire. He wanted to take a shot or two with his fists at the prisoner as well.
Thanks for the offer.
That surprised Malichai. His brother had never been one to express affection or the small niceties. Bellisia, his wife, must be having a positive effect on him. Malichai wasn’t going to mention that either.
“Let’s try this again,” Ezekiel said very patiently. “I’m sure you realize I am an experienced interrogator and I am not going to be happy anytime you think about lying to me. It isn’t a good idea. Just continue to tell the truth and you’ll be fine. If not, you’re a dead man and you’ll never get out of this room.”
The head bobbing went on once again.
“Do you have another contract with these same people?”
“Yes.” Henry mumbled his answer, sounding completely dejected.
“Who is the contract for?”
Henry shrugged. “It’s not exactly that kind of contract. This is more like a diversion. At least they used that word once. I’m to kill three people in a ‘messy’ way and start their bed-and-breakfast on fire. The more people are panicked, the better.”
Malichai straightened again, this time stalking silently toward the prisoner. “Bed-and-breakfast” was a red flag. The way Henry said “three people” bothered the hell out of him.