“I know what the words mean, Brandon.” She said smoothly as she crossed one long leg over another, gently putting him in his place. “I was asking what this conflict was about, specifically.”
“Of course.” He had the decency to look chastened for a second, but quickly recovered. “The conflict was of a personal nature. Let’s call it a difference of opinion with one of our key investors.”
“Can you elaborate on that?” I asked.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Can you tell me who this key investor is?”
“Sorry.”
“Can you tell me the nature of their disagreement?”
“No.”
“How did Dr. Davenport’s exit affect your study?”
“How do you think?” Brandon’s face darkened.
“So is it fair to say you were angry with him for leaving you high and dry?”
“Angry doesn’t begin to cover it,” he said. “I was planning to sue him for breach of contract.”
“But he was killed before you could do that?”
“Yes.”
“Some people would say that’s a pretty strong motive for murder . . .” I knew I was dangerously close to crossing the line, but I didn’t care. I was onto something, I could feel it. And I now had Brandon’s full attention.
“Listen,” he said in a low, controlled voice. “I didn’t have anything to do with Arthur’s death. Him quitting the study was going to be a huge pain in the ass, and of course I was mad about it, but not mad enough to kill. What we have is going to be so big, I’ll have doctors lined up around the block to get in on it.” Brandon clenched his jaw again and I could see a little vein in his forehead begin to bulge out. Clearly, I’d hit a nerve.
Ridley jumped in to break the tension. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We are just trying to get at the truth. Our boss is expecting us to come up with something or else we will get in very much trouble.”
“I understand,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “All I’m saying is that the guy had a lot of irons in the fire, if you know what I mean. Maybe he pissed off someone else—someone who isn’t as civilized as I am.”
The way he said the word civilized gave me chills. There was something about Brandon Laytner that set me on edge. I felt certain that he wasn’t the type of person you’d want to cross.
“One last question, Mr. Laytner,” I said before he could kick us out. “Were you arguing with Arthur Davenport on the Wednesday before his death—on the corner of Plantation and Somerset Drive around 3 p.m.?”
His face went blank. “No. Why? Did someone say I was?” He whipped out his phone, tapped it a few times, and then held it up to me, display facing out. “Look. Wednesday 3 p.m. I had a meeting with my accountant, Ross Childers. You can call him to verify if you want.”
I would definitely do that, but I could tell by the confidence with which he’d said it, the meeting would check out. Was it possible Arthur was arguing with another big bald tattooed guy? Or Did Susan Pettis just get it entirely wrong?
“Well, I need to get back to work,” Brandon said, suddenly standing up. Apparently the interview was over. “But if you have any other questions, feel free to call me anytime,” he said, handing Ridley a card. “All my numbers are on there. Home, cell, office. Call anytime. Seriously.”
Yeah, Brandon, we all get how seriously you’d like Ridley to call you.
Ridley took the card and rewarded him with a big smile and a long, lingering handshake. I thought he might die of happiness.
But as soon as we were out of the office and back in my car, she wiped the doe-eyed look off of her face and shuddered. “That guy is a creep.”
“He sure is.”
“So what do you think?”
I had to admit it felt good that Ridley was so interested in what I had to say. She was one of the only people who seemed to actually be interested in my theories. I was feeling warmer toward her by the minute, and wasn’t entirely happy about it.
“I can’t say for sure. I need to do some more digging around.”
“But I was helpful?” There was something so sincere and hopeful in her voice, it tugged at my heart. I did not want to be yet another person who falls at the feet of the all-mighty Ridley. I was trying really hard not to like her, but she was making it tough.
“Yes, Ridley,” I said begrudgingly. “You were very helpful.”
CHAPTER 25
I dropped Ridley off at Ryan’s parents’ house and drove back to the office. I couldn’t stop thinking about Brandon Laytner and how he casually threw out there that his supposed new wonder drug was tobacco-based. And tobacco leaves were found at the scene of the murder. There had to be a connection there. Could the leaves have come from Arthur himself? Or were they evidence left by his killer? As much as I wanted to explore these questions further, as I walked in to the Times office, I was reminded by stupid Spencer that my current assignment had nothing to do with murder, suspicious CEOs, or tobacco leaves.
“No hard feelings about the Davenport story, eh?”
“Nope,” I said, biting back a torrent of hard feelings.
“It wasn’t personal, you just messed up. Your loss was my gain, amiright?” He held up a hand to give me a high-five.
I glared at him and used every ounce of self-control I had in my body to not smack his hand into his own forehead. My angry reaction seemed only to amuse him.
“You’re too easy, intern. I was just kidding,” he laughed. “Sorry Kay took you off the story. Hey, if you want to, we can kind of work together on it? Like share sources, theories, that kind of thing.”
I could not believe what I was hearing. He wanted me to help him? Was he
