“THERE’S NO MISTAKING it. He’s definitely Richard’s son.”
Gladys is watching the young man on the big screen in her office. He’s been sitting in the interview room for a couple of hours, ever since we arrived back at the police station. Occasionally, he’ll get up and pace around the room.
“He’s nervous,” I say.
“He doesn’t seem to have Richard’s coolness under pressure.”
“Well, between Helen and Dan, he should crack like an egg.”
Just then, the door opens and a man wearing a three-piece suit walks in. Aleister stands and shakes his hand.
“Must be his lawyer,” I say.
Without saying a word, Gladys pushes some buttons and the screen goes blank. At my questioning look, she says, “Conversations between a lawyer and a suspect are confidential. We don’t record those.”
I’m nodding my head
