notes. “What did you see when you first arrived?”
Through the cloud of fatigue, Claudia noted that small detail. A lefty. She raked her hair away from her face. “Does it matter if I mind?”
“A serious crime has been committed here, ma’am, and we need your help. The sooner we get the information, the sooner we’ll find out who’s responsible for the assault on your friend.”
Feeling like a jerk, she pulled herself together. “I got here a few minutes after ten. The front door was open, it was pretty dark, I...”
“It was dark?” Jovanic cut in. “Who turned on all the lights?”
“I did. When I first arrived, only that light over there was on. I didn’t want to sit here alone in the dark until your people showed up.”
Jovanic gave a non-committal grunt. “Yes, ma’am. Did you see anyone?”
“Not at first. I was trying to figure out where Ivan was. Then I heard him cry out and there was a loud noise, which I assume was him falling after having his head beaten in. I hid up on the second floor landing. Then I heard someone running, but when I looked down, I could only see from behind.”
“What makes you so sure Mr. Novak was beaten?”
“I don’t... I don’t know,” she said slowly, wishing she could go home, curl up in her bed and escape into sleep. “I didn’t hear a gunshot. All that blood... I just assumed...”
If she could see the detective’s handwriting, she would know how to handle him. She tried to sneak a peek, but he held his pad at an angle, out of her line of sight. Probably a block printer. Most cops were trained that way. Block printers tended to be unemotional, harder to get close to. Harder to read.
“You’re sure you didn’t see anyone else?” Jovanic repeated.
“No.”
One dark brow arched. “No, you’re not sure, or no, you didn’t see anyone?”
Claudia rubbed her eyes, realizing too late that she had smeared what was left of her mascara onto her cheek. “No, I didn’t see anyone.”
“What’s your relationship with Mr. Novak?”
“He’s a client.”
Jovanic cocked his head to the side and studied her through intelligent grey eyes flecked with brown. “What business?”
“I’m a handwriting expert.”
More scribbling in the notebook. “What were you doing here tonight?”
“Ivan called and asked me for a ride to LAX.”
“He was going out of town?”
“That’s why I usually go to the airport.” Claudia regretted the sarcasm as soon as it left her lips. Jovanic gave her the raised brow again. “He was booked on a redeye to Chicago,” she amended lamely.
“What does Mr. Novak do?”
“He’s in public relations.”
Jovanic looked attentive, waiting for her to elaborate, but Claudia held her tongue. She had learned interview technique from years of giving expert testimony in court. A good witness answered only the question asked, nothing more.
He who speaks first loses.
“Do you know of anyone who might want to harm him?” Jovanic asked at last. “No. He only retained me yesterday morning.”
“Yet, tonight he asks you for a late-night ride to the airport? I didn’t know handwriting experts provided taxi service.”
“He wasn’t a total stranger. I’d met him before, through the woman he worked for.”
“So, how long have you known him?”
“A few months, and only very slightly.”
“Then why didn’t he call a cab or the Super Shuttle?”
“He wanted to give me something. Since I would already be here to pick it up, he thought it made sense for me to drop him at the airport. LAX is near my house.”
“Did you get it?”
“Get what?”
“What he had for you. Did you get it?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.”
“I thought you didn’t get a chance to talk to him.”
“I didn’t . He left an envelope in the foyer for me. Maybe you noticed the suit bag? That’s where I found it.”
Would she be forced to hand over the letter if Jovanic pursued the matter? She probably should have opened it before he arrived,
Through the cloud of fatigue, Claudia noted that small detail. A lefty. She raked her hair away from her face. “Does it matter if I mind?”
“A serious crime has been committed here, ma’am, and we need your help. The sooner we get the information, the sooner we’ll find out who’s responsible for the assault on your friend.”
Feeling like a jerk, she pulled herself together. “I got here a few minutes after ten. The front door was open, it was pretty dark, I...”
“It was dark?” Jovanic cut in. “Who turned on all the lights?”
“I did. When I first arrived, only that light over there was on. I didn’t want to sit here alone in the dark until your people showed up.”
Jovanic gave a non-committal grunt. “Yes, ma’am. Did you see anyone?”
“Not at first. I was trying to figure out where Ivan was. Then I heard him cry out and there was a loud noise, which I assume was him falling after having his head beaten in. I hid up on the second floor landing. Then I heard someone running, but when I looked down, I could only see from behind.”
“What makes you so sure Mr. Novak was beaten?”
“I don’t... I don’t know,” she said slowly, wishing she could go home, curl up in her bed and escape into sleep. “I didn’t hear a gunshot. All that blood... I just assumed...”
If she could see the detective’s handwriting, she would know how to handle him. She tried to sneak a peek, but he held his pad at an angle, out of her line of sight. Probably a block printer. Most cops were trained that way. Block printers tended to be unemotional, harder to get close to. Harder to read.
“You’re sure you didn’t see anyone else?” Jovanic repeated.
“No.”
One dark brow arched. “No, you’re not sure, or no, you didn’t see anyone?”
Claudia rubbed her eyes, realizing too late that she had smeared what was left of her mascara onto her cheek. “No, I didn’t see anyone.”
“What’s your relationship with Mr. Novak?”
“He’s a client.”
Jovanic cocked his head to the side and studied her through intelligent grey eyes flecked with brown. “What business?”
“I’m a handwriting expert.”
More scribbling in the notebook. “What were you doing here tonight?”
“Ivan called and asked me for a ride to LAX.”
“He was going out of town?”
“That’s why I usually go to the airport.” Claudia regretted the sarcasm as soon as it left her lips. Jovanic gave her the raised brow again. “He was booked on a redeye to Chicago,” she amended lamely.
“What does Mr. Novak do?”
“He’s in public relations.”
Jovanic looked attentive, waiting for her to elaborate, but Claudia held her tongue. She had learned interview technique from years of giving expert testimony in court. A good witness answered only the question asked, nothing more.
He who speaks first loses.
“Do you know of anyone who might want to harm him?” Jovanic asked at last. “No. He only retained me yesterday morning.”
“Yet, tonight he asks you for a late-night ride to the airport? I didn’t know handwriting experts provided taxi service.”
“He wasn’t a total stranger. I’d met him before, through the woman he worked for.”
“So, how long have you known him?”
“A few months, and only very slightly.”
“Then why didn’t he call a cab or the Super Shuttle?”
“He wanted to give me something. Since I would already be here to pick it up, he thought it made sense for me to drop him at the airport. LAX is near my house.”
“Did you get it?”
“Get what?”
“What he had for you. Did you get it?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.”
“I thought you didn’t get a chance to talk to him.”
“I didn’t . He left an envelope in the foyer for me. Maybe you noticed the suit bag? That’s where I found it.”
Would she be forced to hand over the letter if Jovanic pursued the matter? She probably should have opened it before he arrived,
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