“They do have a good thing,” Peabody said as they walked back to the car. “Hard to see them in this.”
“We’ll talk to the ex and the son, get a sense there, but no, they’re not in this. Let’s hit the exec, see how he plays.”
6
Thomas T. Thane had a modest office in the advertising firm called Your Ad Here. At forty-two, apparently glued to the designation of junior exec, he carried an extra fifteen pounds and a sour expression.
The rundown in his online data made Your Ad Here his fifth employer since college. His division handled ad blimps—a fact that Eve had to push aside to maintain any semblance of objectivity.
He didn’t help his own cause by being a dick right off the mark.
“Yeah, I heard about Abner. What’s it to me? I don’t like cops coming to my place of work. And unlike you, apparently, I’m busy.”
“Then we won’t waste any more of the valuable time you spend thinking up blather to blast out of blimps than absolutely necessary.”
Okay, maybe she hadn’t pushed it all the way aside.
He bared his teeth at Eve. “You can kiss my ass—and talk to my lawyer. Get out.”
“Fine. We’ll expect you and your legal representative in Interview at Cop Central at…” She glanced at her wrist unit. “One this afternoon. Reserve the room, Peabody.”
“Bullshit!”
“Talk to us here, talk to us there.” Eve shrugged. “We’ve got nothing better to do.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Now Eve just lifted her eyebrows. “Maybe you’d prefer us to obtain a warrant and escort you from the building in front of your employers and coworkers. It really isn’t any skin off ours.”
“What the hell do you want?”
“The answers to some very basic questions, such as your whereabouts at ten P.M. night before last.”
“More bullshit.” He made an ordeal of getting out his pocket calendar. “Bullshit from a couple of pussy cops.”
Eve heard Peabody’s distinct hiss, and simply gave Thane a flat-eyed stare. “Suspect demonstrates disrespect and animosity toward females, particularly females in authority.”
“Kiss my ass,” he repeated. “At ten night before last I was having drinks with friends.”
“Location and names of friends, as picturing you with friends strains credulity.”
“Fuck off, bitch.”
“Lieutenant Bitch,” Peabody snarled out before Eve could. “Location, names.”
“After Hours, it’s right across the damn street.” He reeled off three names—all male.
“Same question for yesterday, nine to nine-thirty A.M.”
“At my desk, right here. I had a meeting at nine-fifteen.”
“The last time you saw or spoke to Dr. Kent Abner.”
“I had nothing to say to that son of a bitch. He tried to ruin my life, cost me a job because he couldn’t keep his big nose out of my business.”
“That business being physically assaulting your three-year-old son and his mother?”
He kicked back in his chair, actually put one fancy shoe on his desk as a show of disrespect. “More bullshit. I had to discipline the kid because his mother wouldn’t, just let him run wild. Added to it, he was clumsy, always falling down.”