There she was, talking like a detective. That was Ryan’s job. What right did Liv have to poke around in Cairo’s case? But Cairo had helped her out of a rough spot in high school, provided the shoulder to cry on when Liv had lost Ryan and her mother in the same year. She owed it to Cairo to figure out what had happened, even if the police couldn’t.
Liv nodded decisively. She was going to figure it out. And no one was going to stop her.
Thurs 29th September; 9am
Dane by her side, an irritated Ryan strode towards the large business plaza. There had been no one at Steven’s home. No one answered the door, no signs of any cars. Nothing. The family had been more than willing to talk, and had described Cairo as a quiet yet happy woman who was engaged to the love of her life. But they had also admitted to not talking to her recently.
Steven, however, had quite the online business presence. He was a real estate agent who served several cities and counties, the majority further away from Amaranth. Maybe he was out of town on business a lot.
Although not as large as the plazas in the bigger cities, the tall, three-story building felt imposing with its glass windows and bright ambiance. There was even a secretary at the front desk. Did anyone else work there, or was it just for show?
Ryan had met many people that had more money than sense.
The blonde secretary stood. “How may I help you?”
Ryan flashed her badge first, then Dane followed. “We’re here to talk to Mr. Blackstone?”
The secretary nodded, sitting down and tucking a phone to her ear. “Is this about his fiancée?”
“Yes.” Ryan and Dane exchanged looks. Were they going to find a grieving fiancé, or something else?
“He’ll see you now. Up the elevator, and his secretary will meet you there.” The woman pointed them in the right direction.
Ryan walked in the direction the woman had pointed with a quiet “thank you”. There were a couple company decals on the wall, and a business directory that was mostly empty. It fascinated her that someone would build a building that would be so little used. But she wasn’t crazy rich, so who knew what they thought.
She made a mental note to subpoena Cairo’s financial and phone records. Despite what the state of her body said, some investigatory work would help confirm or deny the actual cause of death.
“I think it’s a suicide,” Dane said, his voice soft.
Ryan nodded, then shrugged. “I think something’s up.”
Dane hummed in that way that made Ryan think he was humoring her. As much as she liked him, she wasn’t going to ignore her instincts. It had been those instincts that had got her promoted to Detective in the first place. She wasn’t going to give them up.
The elevator opened with a ping, and the two of them walked forward, just to be greeted by another secretary. She waved them into Steven’s office.
Just as Ryan went to open the door, it opened on its own. “Come in.”
Ryan was a native to the small village, and she knew Steven like she knew pretty much everyone else. He was the only child of the village’s wealthiest family, and when his parents had died he had inherited it all. Still, his voice had deepened with age, and its reverberating tone surprised her.
“Steven Blackstone?” Ryan asked, just to clarify.
“Yes. And you are?” Steven’s pale grey eyes looked between the two of them. He was a tall man, muscular but not stocky, impeccably dressed in a pinstripe suit. He was the type of man that exuded charisma, the type that could take even the most skeptical of customers and make them part with their money.
He was the type of man that Ryan respected to some degree, but would always be wary of. There was a thin line between smooth salesman and con man. “I’m Detective Olsen, and this is my partner, Detective Phillips.” She nodded to Dane. “We’re here to talk to you about Cairo Levitt.”
Sadness momentarily clouded the grey eyes, but the emotion passed as fast as it appeared. “Sit.” Steven waved to a few chairs in front of a large oak desk. He took a seat behind it, sinking into the plush office chair. It looked like it cost more than Ryan made in a month. Probably the height of ergonomics.
She settled into the strangely comfortable wooden chair, somewhat distracted by the pleasant texture of the wood under her hand.
“It’s a foreign type of wood,” Steven said, his voice pleasant. “Almost velvet to the touch.”
“Hm.” Ryan didn’t ask more than that, instead crossing one leg over the other and looking at Steven.
“I understand that you were engaged to Miss Levitt, is that correct?” Dane asked. He had his feet firmly planted on the floor, elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. It was his attentive look, the one that let interviewees know he was paying attention to every little detail they shared.
“Yes.” There was the flash of pain. “We have been engaged about six months, dating a year prior to that.” Steven looked down at his desk. “I was very shocked to hear about her death.”
Grief takes all forms, Ryan reminded herself. And he was showing signs of grief. The pain in his eyes, the stiff body language. It very well could have been that he was the type of man that threw himself into work in an effort to avoid feeling.
“I’d like to ask about your whereabouts for the past 24 hours,” Ryan said, leaning forward. She pulled her notebook out of her coat pocket, grabbing the small pen she kept. It was easier to record it while she could. And it wasn’t worth taping, not when he wasn’t suspected of anything and they weren’t even sure if they had
