Private Scandals

she would explode and shatter.
    “Christ, Dee.”
    A hand reached for her, hesitating as she cringed away. And she saw Joe, the Minicam on his shoulder, his baseball cap askew.
    “I’m sorry,” he said, and swore again. “I’m really sorry.”
    “It’s all right. I’ve been there, remember? It’s just the job.” She climbed gratefully into Finn’s car and closed her eyes. Tuned out.
     
    Jenner turned the studio over to the forensic team. Since he’d already had two men question the occupants of the building, he decided to wait until morning before doing a follow-up there. Instead, he left the CBC Building and drove to Finn Riley’s home.
    He wasn’t surprised, or displeased, when Finn pulled into the driveway behind him.
    “How’s Miss Reynolds?”
    “She’s got a concussion,” Finn said tersely. “They’re keeping her overnight for observation. I had a feeling I’d find you here.”
    Jenner nodded as they started up the walk. “Chilly night,” he said conversationally. “Dispatch showed your call came inat one twenty-three. First unit arrived at one twenty-eight.”
    “It was a quick response.” Though it hadn’t seemed quick as he’d spent that endless five minutes looking over the destruction of his home. “Are you handling B and Es, too, Lieutenant?”
    “I like to diversify. And the truth is”—he paused just outside the door—“I figure I’ve got an interest in this. Between the business in Greektown and the investigation on those letters Miss Reynolds has been getting, I figure I’ve got an interest. Does that bother you?”
    Finn studied Jenner in the starlight. The man looked tired, yet completely alert. It was a combination Finn understood perfectly. “No.”
    “Well then.” Jenner sliced through the police tape over the damaged door. “Maybe you’ll take me on the grand tour.”
    Riley was a pretty snappy dresser, Jenner mused as they moved inside. The kind who leaned toward leather jackets and faded jeans. Jenner had tried on a leather jacket once. He’d looked like a cop. He always did.
    “Did you mention the trouble here to Miss Reynolds?”
    “No.”
    “Can’t blame you. She’s had a rough night.” He glanced around. The place looked as if it had been bombed. “So have you.”
    “You could say that. Almost every room was trashed.” Finn gestured toward the living area off the main hall. “I didn’t take a lot of time going through it.”
    Jenner grunted. Word was the minute Finn had learned of the trouble at CBC, he’d sprinted out, leaving the destruction behind.
    “You must be pretty steamed.” That was putting it mildly, Jenner mused. What he saw on Finn’s face was cold rage. If he’d run across the perp, he’d have sliced him into little pieces. Though it was unprofessional, Jenner would have given a great deal to see it.
    “I can replace the things,” Finn said as they started upstairs.
    “Yeah.” Jenner stepped inside the bedroom, nodded toward the wall. “So our friend’s taken to writing on walls.” Taking out his pad, Jenner copied the writing style onto a blank page. This was the first time the writer had exposed himself this way. “Makes a statement.” One quick scan and he’d taken in the devastation of the room. “Forensics are going to have a hell of a time sorting through this mess.” He toed a broken perfume bottle with his foot. “Tiffany,” he commented. “A hundred fifty an ounce. My wife, she likes that scent. I bought her the cologne for her birthday. And those sheets. Irish linen. My grandmother had a tablecloth. I used to rub my face over it when I was a kid.”
    Nearly amused, Finn leaned on the doorjamb and studied Jenner. “Is this how you conduct an investigation, Lieutenant? Or do you moonlight for an insurance company?”
    “Always was a sucker for quality.” He slipped his pad back in his pocket, just above the snug weight of his weapon. “So, Mr. Riley, I’d have to say we have a connection.”
    “So, Lieutenant, I’d have to agree with you.”
    “Murder happened by midnight.” He scratched the back of his neck. “The drive from CBC to here takes fourteen minutes, at the speed limit. He spends, say, ten minutes setting the stage, turning on the equipment. Another ten to get over here. You get home about twenty after one. Yeah, I’d say that’s enough time.”
    “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, Lieutenant. What’s next?”
    “We’ll canvass the neighborhood