Chapter Twelve
Getting people to take calls from a cop seemed almost impossible. Music played over the line as Mark drove to the other house owned by Fife Gattenburg. He’d called the business number of the law firm and was now waiting for the lawyer to pick up.
“I’m sorry, Detective,” came the soft voice of the receptionist. “Mr. Gattenburg isn’t available. I’ll have to take a message for him—if you could tell me the reason for your call, as well.”
He knew when he was being blown off. It was just as likely good old Fife was standing right there. “Sure. As I said, this is Detective Mark Friessen, Roche Harbor Police, and this is regarding an investigation and an incident at one of the properties Mr. Gattenburg owns. This is an urgent matter, so please tell Mr. Gattenburg I’ll need him to
