“Intense seems like a fair word for it, yes.”
“What was the discussion about?” Myers demands.
“I wanted him to withdraw from the race and he refused.”
“Up until that point, you’d been very supportive of him.”
“Up until recently, yes.”
“And your change of heart was because of your wife’s previous relationship with him?”
“It wasn’t a relationship. He raped her and then spent the next year tormenting her.”
“That’s not what your mother says.”
“My mother is wrong.”
“That’s a big motive for murder,” Merski says. “Believing your brother raped your wife. Wouldn’t you say so, Mr. Frost?”
“For some people, yes.”
“For some people,” Myers repeats. “But not for you?”
“If you’re any good at your jobs at all, I figure you already know all the different pies Brandon had his fingers in. Most of those pies weren’t legal and almost all of them were violent.”
“You’re saying that you think the mob killed your brother.”
“I’m saying that I don’t know, yet, who killed Brandon. But that if I had to make a guess, Nico Valducci is where I would start.”
“That’s interesting,” Merski tells me. “Because we keep landing on you. A violent fistfight with your brother in Vegas a few weeks ago. Withdrawing your public support. Accusations of rape. You wouldn’t be the first man who went after the guy who raped his woman.”
“As you said, I did go after him. Hence the fistfight. But you know as well as I do that I was in California when my brother was murdered.”
“Which is why we weren’t here yesterday. But there are all kinds of ways to kill a man.”
“Perhaps, but as far as I know, shooting a man at point-blank range still requires being in the same room as he is.”
They both sit up straighter. “Your brother’s cause of death hasn’t been released to anyone yet.”
“Yes, but you have a leak in your office. One it took my PI about ten minutes to exploit.” Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I reach into my desk and pull out the three folders I put in there this morning. I plop them on the desk between us. “This is information my PI has gathered on Brandon, his connections in Vegas and numerous other ventures he’s been involved with. It also has information on Brandon’s investigation—whatever he’s been able to gather so far. They’re yours if you’d like them.”
“You’re doing your own investigation into your brother’s death?” Merski demands.
“As you’ve said, he is my brother.” I stand then, walk toward the door. Wait for them to do the same.
“We have more questions.”
“And I have an eleven o’clock appointment. If you’d like to speak with me some more, feel free to contact my attorney.” I hand him Johanna’s card.
“We could arrest you right now and sort it out back at the local FBI office,” Merski says, giving me a flat-eyed cop stare.
I meet his look with a bland stare of my own. “You don’t have the jurisdiction, the warrant or the evidence necessary to arrest me. But, again, feel free to make an appointment with my attorney if you’d like to speak with me again.”
Finally, they move toward the door. I see, with some satisfaction, that they take the files with them as they go.
Once they’re gone, I pick up the phone. Dial Tamara’s number. “Tell my eleven o’clock I’m running fifteen minutes late,” I instruct.
“Of course, Mr. Frost.”