25
Rebecca was waiting when Charles Schoenberg walked into the Heritage Insurance office waiting room. He entered with such an air of authority, immediately barking orders at his secretary, that Rebecca needed no introduction. He was tall and tanned, with manicured gray hair and wearing an impeccable suit whose price-tag she couldn’t begin to guess. She stood and showed her badge. “Mayfield, Homicide. I need to speak with you.”
“What’s this about?”
“Karen Larkin’s murder.”
“Who?”
“May we speak privately?”
He glanced at his secretary who was watching them, mouth agape. With a grimace, he said, “All right. But I don’t have much time.”
“The more you cooperate, the faster I will be.” Rebecca’s eyes were hard.
Still frowning, he showed her into his office. It reeked of wealth with heavy
