"Something?"
"Answers."
"Let's go into the living room."
She cupped her hand behind the candle flame and blew it out. In darkness she navigated the hallway leading into the living room. There, she switched on only one lamp before taking a seat in the corner of an ivory upholstered sofa. Lucky dropped onto the hassock in front of the blue leather chair, spread his knees wide, and loosely clasped his hands between them.
"Shoot," he said.
She began without preamble. "When Greg's trial came up, I asked my editor's permission to do a feature story on him."
"You didn't know him before that?"
"No."
"What piqued your interest enough to want to write about him?"
"Most criminals, from serial killers to petty thieves, fit a particular profile," she said. "White-collar criminals are generally arrogant and condescending toward their prosecutors, whether they're proved guilty or not."
"Go on."
"Well, from what I'd read about Greg, he didn't fit that profile. He was pathetically earnest in his denials of any wrongdoing. That intrigued me. I sold my editor on the idea. He said to go for it. Next, I had to go through Greg's attorney and the D.A.'s Office to get their permission. This took several weeks.
"Greg's lawyer stipulated that he be present during the interviews, which I agreed to. The prosecutor stipulated that the articles would have to be read and approved by someone in the D.A.'s Office before publication. You see, they couldn't lean toward either guilt or innocence, but had to be completely unbiased." Lucky nodded. "When everyone was satisfied, I was finally granted my first interview with Greg."
"Love at first sight?"
"No, but I was attracted."
"Physically?"
"Among other things."
"A man in handcuffs can be a real turn-on." She ignored his sarcasm. "He wasn't in jail at the time. He had posted bail."
Thinking back on that first meeting in his attorney's office, Devon recalled wondering how anyone could suspect Greg of being guilty of an outstanding parking ticket, much less a felony. He was impeccably dressed in a three-piece, very conservative charcoal-gray suit, white shirt, sedately striped tie. His reddish-brown hair had been carefully combed back from his high, smooth forehead. He could have given Emily Post lessons on courtesy.
"What did you get from that first meeting?" Lucky asked.
"A sense of his background."
"Which was?"
"He was reared in a Pennsylvania steel town by very strict and religious parents from whom he was—and is to this day—estranged."
"Why? I can't imagine willfully cutting myself off from my family."
Devon could have guessed that. Earlier he had expressed regret over causing his family their present difficulties. Ap
parently what affected one Tyler affected them all, and each took the others' problems to heart.
"Greg wasn't fortunate enough to have the family closeness that you enjoy, Mr. Tyler. Indeed, few people are," she said reflectively, sadly. "Greg's father had worked for the same steel company all his life. He couldn't grasp the concept of playing the stock market, and ridiculed Greg for not holding down a steady job."
"So you've never met his parents?"
"No."
"What about yours? What do they think of having a son-in-law in jail?"