CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
BRITA STOOD IN THE center of the massive foyer and looked up, and up, to the once beautiful dome of a high ceiling. Scaffolding snaked around the edges of the huge space and the yellowed white ceiling showed signs of having been scraped and sanded.
“I’d say this paint definitely falls into the arsenic age.” Percy offered.
Brita nodded, sighing. “The question is, could it have been enough to kill him.”
“You wanted to talk to me?”
Brita turned her head and extended a hand to the small man striding up to them. “Larry Heat?” She forced herself not to smile at the name. The file said he was a building contractor, but his name made him sound like a porn star.
“That would be me.” The man extended a small hand on the end of a muscular arm and she took it. The stubby finge
