Free Vicious by Debra Webb Page A

notes.
    “That’s right. Ask my friends if you don’t believe me.”
    “I most certainly will.” Jess tapped her pencil against her pad. “There’s just one thing that keeps bugging me, Mr. Slater. I’m having trouble believing your story about how you came to have all those nasty bruises. Why didn’t you call the police after two Hispanic males attempted to rob you? They didn’t take your cell phone, did they?”
    “They didn’t get anything. Like I told you,” he ran his fingers through his tousled hair, “I beat the crap out of ‘em and they ran. Calling the cops wasn’t necessary. Don’t you have better things to do, like hang out at the donut shop?”
    The joys of interviewing idiots . Jess adapted an expression of concern that was about as fake as the story he’d just confirmed. “You must be in serious pain, Mr. Slater. Your hands and forearms are all scratched up. Men don’t usually fight openhanded. You use your fists.” She balled her fingers. “Makes me wonder if you had a physical altercation with your girlfriend.”
    He worked up the energy to pull off a listless shrug. “What can I say? Mexicans fight like girls.” He tossed a look at Harper. “It’s nothing. Hydros make sure of that.”
    Next to her, Jess felt her detective stiffen. Harper’s Hispanic heritage was obvious, and Jess knew for a fact there was nothing girlish about the way he handled himself in a physical altercation. She’d take Harper as her backup any time, any place.
    “I assume you have a prescription for those,” the detective tossed at the arrogant man. Hydrocodone was one of the most abused pain relievers on the market.
    “Wouldn’t’ve mentioned ‘em if I didn’t.” Slater snorted a laugh. “I’m not that stupid.”
    Jess wouldn’t touch that one with a ten-foot pole. “Did you have a physical altercation with your girlfriend, Mr. Slater? Remember, we’re recording this interview. You need to be very careful how you answer.”
    “Don’t have a girlfriend.”
    “Is that right?” Harper countered. “Several witnesses saw you coming and going from Lisa Templeton’s home on numerous occasions. She wasn’t your girlfriend?”
    Slater made a face then winced. “She managed a shop in one of my buildings. Your witnesses must’ve seen me dropping by her place when she rented the apartment over the shop. She was just a tenant. Not my type at all.”
    Harper made one of those male sounds that were more grunt than anything else. In Jess’s experience, it meant he’d had enough of this guy. She was right there with him.
    Jess opened the folder in front of her and removed a series of photos that had been printed from the ones saved on the victim’s cell phone. “If this is what you do with the women who aren’t your type, I’m confident there are laws against what you save for those who are.”
    She fanned the photos in front of him. Most of them showed Slater and Templeton in various forms of sexual activity. His face wasn’t visible in all the photos, but the tattoos on his chest and shoulders were and that was sufficient to identify him. With Slater this close and his partially unbuttoned shirt revealing a good portion of the Phoenix inked on his chest, denial would be just a little difficult.
    He lifted one shoulder in another of those uncaring shrugs. “We had sex. Often. Big deal. She needed lots of favors and this is how we settled things.”
    Outrage started a resolute climb up Jess’s spine. “But Lisa didn’t worship you the way you prefer your women to.” The statements made by the victims of his prior arrests had one allegation in common: He wanted me to worship him . “In fact,” Jess went on, “Lisa Templeton was in love with another woman. I imagine that was quite a blow to your manhood.”
    He snorted. “She was a dumb bitch. Couldn’t make up her mind what she wanted. I was done with her anyway.”
    “Is that why you kicked her out of the apartment over the shop two