Friday, July 17, 2009


Chuck sat at the table, comparing their photos to the ones taken by the crime unit. There was something they were overlooking. Nothing of value appeared to be missing. Torture seemed to be the main item on the agenda. Cruz tossed her stack of photos aside and walked over to refresh her cup of coffee.
“You know Chuck, from what I hear about these charity events, it’s not going to be easy questioning the guests. More than half of them have probably already left the country just to avoid a visit from us.” She nodded toward his cup. “Need a refill?”
“Sure.” He passed her his cup. “We’ll be lucky if we get these rich idiots to say anything. Here’s how it’ll go: I’ll ask a question. Richie Rich’ll look at his lawyer and then the whispering will begin. ‘My client wishes to refrain.’ Blah. Blah. Blah. So what do we know about this little shindig?”
Chuck rubbed his temples.
“This may be nothing,” She read the evidence sheet. “But they found a single diamond stud at the scene. Tonya was wearing both of hers. Maybe we just caught our first clue.”
There was no need trying to sound upbeat, or even pleasant. Chuck’s mood was ruined. “Tonya pulled together all of the bigwigs she could muster, and of course, the local notables for the Delilah Somers Charity Ball. It’s to start an orphanage in honor of her mother. I read somewhere that Tonya hoped to raise over $10 million. Can you imagine that?”
“What I can’t imagine is Tonya Somers having enough friends to fill a room, but anything is possible.” He shuffled a few papers and stuffed them into a manila folder. “We need that guest list so we can start questioning what I assume will be a host of utterly ridiculous people.”
Danica smiled. “I’m way ahead of you. I just talked to the event planner, who just happens to be free this afternoon. Do you want to tag along or sit here fuming?”


The brownstone was in another upscale area. If Chuck had to look at one more rich person living the high life, he would go insane. For the second time that day, Chuck wished he had gone to law school and become a high power, high priced lawyer. Instead, he chose a difficult and dangerous job on a pauper’s salary. Life was good.
“Are you sure this is the right place?”
Danica looked at the sticky note. “Yep. She runs the business from her home. Her name is Dara Stevens. I hear she’s pretty good.”

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