“Did she ‘exude her morality’ with anyone in particular recently?”Jessie pressed.
“Like did she dress anyone down?” he asked. “Not that I can think of.”
“So you don’t have any idea who might have done this?”
“No,” he insisted. “We’re here with a group of friends. None of themwould ever hurt Gabby. We’ve stayed at this hotel for years and love the managementhere. There’s a lot of turnover among the staff, so I can’t vouch for everyone.But they all seem really nice. Even just recently, while I was waiting in theballroom, a waitress from the bar brought me some Pepto-Bismol tablets becauseshe heard I was struggling. They’re those kinds of people.”
He was getting borderline weepy again. Jessie debated whether to pushhim harder but ultimately decided to hold off for now. It wasn’t clear how muchadditional information he could offer in his state. Maybe once she verifiedsome times and locations from other witnesses she could come back at him.
“You can go for now,” she told him, “but remember, no talking to otherpotential witnesses.”
He shuffled out with his head down. There was a schlubby, sad-sackelement to the guy that made Jessie wonder how he’d ended up with Gabby in thefirst place. Admittedly, the guy’s wife had just died, which would affect anyone,but the loser persona seemed to transcend the moment. And though Jessie hadonly seen his wife dead, even bloody and lifeless, she seemed way out of hisleague.
“Who’s next?” Peters asked once Steve Crewe left, tearing her from herunkind musings.
“I think we should talk to the friend he was hanging out with, RichFerro. We can at least see if his memory of the timeline matches up with Crewe’s.”
Peters stepped out of the room and instructed Tommy the bellboy to sendRichard Ferro their way. A minute later, a tall, good-looking, bald man with alean muscular frame stepped through the conference room door. He had adistinguished, energetic vibe that Jessie could easily see winning over hiseventual wife, Melissa.
“Have a seat, Mr. Ferro,” Peters said politely.
The man settled into the chair. He looked like he was holding hisliquor much better than his friend. Of course, it wasn’t his wife who haddied.
“How do know the Crewes?” Jessie asked, deciding to shake things up andstart her questioning a little differently with him. Though his wife had beentold not to talk to anyone, Jessie had no way of knowing if she’d followed the directiveor if she’d secretly given her husband a heads-up.
“We’ve known each other for several years,” he said. “I think Melissa andGabby met at a yoga class. They hit it off and it went from there. Now a groupof us hang out, sometimes go on couples dates, that kind of thing.”
“How many other couples?” Jessie asked.
“Two more—Marin and Barry Lander, as well as Ariana and Theo Aldridge.”
“They’re out in those ballrooms?” Jessie confirmed.
Ferro nodded.
“And I understand you were with Steve when he found out about the murder?”she asked, now ready to get into the nitty-gritty.
“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, we didn’t know she was dead at the time. ButI was with him when we heard something bad had happened. We ran straightupstairs.”
“What time was that?” she wanted to know.
He sighed deeply, trying to gather his thoughts.
“I don’t know exactly. But it was before eleven thirty. I remember lookingat my watch when the detective here arrived on our floor and that’s what timeit was. So we probably found out about five minutes before that, eleventwenty-five or so?”
“Where were you before that?” Jessie asked as if she was unaware that SteveCrewe had used him as his alibi.
“Mostly in the bar downstairs,” he said. “We had gone out to dinner.Then we came back and drank away the rest of the night. People were in and outthe whole time but that was kind of our base of operations. By the time we heardsomething had happened, it was just me and Steve from our group.”
“Can anyone verify your whereabouts?” she asked.
“We’re just trying to get a picture of everyone’s movements over thecourse of the night,” Peters interjected apologetically, speaking for the firsttime since Ferro came into the room.
“Specifically your movements,” Jessie added, doing her best notto glare at the detective.
“The whole time?” Ferro asked, impressively not offended by thequestion. “Maybe the bartender, I guess? She was there all night. But it’s notlike I was keeping track of all the guests coming in and out.”
Jessie tried to hide her frustration. It sounded like the bar area wasa madhouse. And without video surveillance to reference, she would be dependenton the hazy memories of multiple drunken people to compile a timeline of events.If Steve Crewe and Richard Ferro were indicative of how things would go therest of the way, she wasn’t optimistic about narrowing things down.
They were interrupted by a knock on the door. A cute, youngish girl,likely college-age, meekly poked her head in.
“Hi, I’m Leena. I work at the front desk,” she said. “Sorry to botheryou but I have a message for Detective Peters.”
Peters raised his hand and she walked it over to him, her eyes filled withcuriosity at the juicy scene. As she passed it to the cop, Ferro looked herover with some curiosity of his own. Peters glanced at the note and hisdemeanor suddenly changed.
“Thanks, Leena,” he said, before leaning over and whispering to Jessie.“We should wrap this up. The medical examiner and crime scene unit from LongBeach just arrived at the dock. They’ll be here in five minutes.”
Jessie nodded. She didn’t love being rushed but had to admit that sheprobably couldn’t get much more out of Ferro until she’d heard from others. Itoccurred to her that the bartender whom he’d mentioned in passing as a possiblealibi witness might actually be a credible source of information, assuming she hadn’tbeen drinking with the patrons. If she was sober, she’d be the first personJessie interviewed all night who was.
“You can go back out to the ballroom, Mr. Ferro,” Peters saidcompliantly to the guest. “We’ll be in touch.”
It was all Jessie could do not to call the detective on hissubservience.
