Tensions, obviously, were high.
“It can’t be a coincidence the attack was here,” Ethan said to my grandfather, putting away his phone and breaking the silence. “I’m sure there would have been easier places to get to King, take him out.”
“Undoubtedly,” Chuck said. “We’ll see what Reed has to say, supplement with our own background.”
“You’ll find nothing,” my father said, putting a hand on the globe to stop its motion. “Reed holds himself to the highest ethical standards. That’s why he refused King’s business offer earlier this evening.”
My grandfather didn’t miss the implication. “He and King had words before the attack?”
My father rolled his eyes. “King made overtures, and Reed rejected them. He’s a thug, and everyone knows he threatened the jury that acquitted him.”
My grandfather just looked at him. “Our job is to consider all angles, tie off all loose ends, before reaching a firm conclusion. That’s the nature of an investigation.”
“You’ve talked to Morgan?” I asked, and my grandfather nodded.
“Catcher called him. I understand he was less surprised than he should have been.”
You could practically hear Ethan’s hackles rise. He wasn’t a fan of Morgan or his leadership style, such as it was. Frankly, he was probably looking forward to berating him for his Novitiates’ raging stupidity.
The door opened and Reed walked back in, Sorcha behind him. Without a word, she walked to Reed’s desk, picked up a lighter and a cigarette case, disappeared onto the terrace again.
Reed walked to a bar of cut crystal decanters, poured a finger of Scotch, downed it. “They’ve been arrested?” he asked, without turning around.
“They’re in custody,” my grandfather explained. “They’ll be booked and questioned, and the responding officers will consult with the prosecutor regarding the charges against them.”
He took a small, spiral notebook from his shirt pocket, pulled an old-fashioned red and white ballpoint pen from the spiral, clicked the nib into place.
“Are you aware of anyone who would want to harm your reputation?” my grandfather asked, pen poised over paper.
Reed walked past us to his desk, took a seat in the leather chair behind it, rocked with an audible creak. “I’m a very wealthy man, Mr. Merit. Wealth attracts attention, and men who shape their own worlds are not infrequently the targets of crime.”
“Any specific, credible threats against you lately?”
“Not that I’m aware of. If there’d been something credible, my staff would have told me.”
My grandfather nodded. “What about Sanford King? Can you describe your relationship with him?”
“Perfunctory,” Reed said, turning the chair to face the room and steepling his fingers over his chest. “We’re acquainted, and that’s nearly overstating it. He’s a member of the charity’s board of directors. His invitation was pro forma.”
“So no business dealings?”
“None.”
“I understand he presented you with a business opportunity earlier tonight.”
Reed’s expression flattened. “I don’t hold with gossip. And I declined the offer. As I said, no business dealings.”
“Thank you for clarifying,” my grandfather summed, making a note in his book. “Sanford King likely has enemies.”
“As I indicated, we all have enemies.”
“And would there have been any reason for the perpetrators to believe you and Sanford had a closer relationship?”
“What are you asking?”
“I’m asking if you’re aware of any particular reason they decided to attack him here and at this particular time.”
“I assume they wanted to punish King as publicly as possible,” Reed said impatiently. “Otherwise what’s the point of attempting an execution at a gala? Why not just take him out on the street?”
“Was there anything unusual about his agreement to attend the party, or his interest in it?”
“I didn’t organize the party or send the invitations. I have a staff. I allowed the charity the use of my house, made a substantial in-kind contribution with respect to food and alcohol.”
My grandfather nodded. “There was considerable press coverage about the party, your involvement. You’ll get even more publicity after tonight.”
My father stiffened, apparently shocked by the insinuation. But my grandfather wasn’t there to help my father kiss Reed’s ass. He was there to probe, investigate, untangle.
“As I’m certain you’re well aware, I don’t need publicity. And I don’t appreciate the tenor of the question.”
My grandfather smiled his blandly polite cop smile. “I just want to make sure I understand the facts.”
“The fact is, two vampires entered my house apparently with the purpose of killing Sanford King. If you want the cause, ask them.”
“We have done so, and will continue to investigate their involvement,” my grandfather assured him.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page. I’ll talk to my lawyers, decide how we’d like to move forward. I’ll be in touch.”
And just like that, Adrien Reed dismissed my grandfather.
* * *
We walked him back through the gallery and ballroom. The room was still decorated, but the guests were gone, adding a grim sense of abandonment.