Free Witch House by Dana Donovan

we’re done here.”
    “Not quite.”
    “What now?”
    “Stephanie Stiles?”
    I could see him sinking into his chair. “What
about her?”
    “We know you know her, and you don’t have to
blame Shannon for that. We talked to Ms. Stiles already this
morning.”
    “So what?”
    “She told us that you introduced her to René
while he was in prison.”
    “Yeah? Is that a crime?”
    “No, I’m simply curious why you hooked the
two of them up?”
    He laughed. “Call it a humanitarian
gesture.”
    “I’m sorry?”
    He leaned forward and propped his elbows up
on the desk. “Look, René’s wife passed away shortly after he went
to prison. I just thought it would be nice to introduce him to a
member of the female persuasion to help him in his grief.”
    “Did you ever tell Stephanie about the
money?”
    “From the robbery?”
    “Of course.”
    “No! Why would I? There was no money;
there is no money.”
    “What is your relationship with Ms. Stiles
now?”
    “There is no relationship.”
    “Then why do you suppose she is calling
you?”
    “I don’t know. I’ve not spoken with her yet.
Maybe she found out about René and wants to know what I know about
it.”
    “What do you know about it?”
    “Nothing. Like I said, I just heard about it
on the news. It is a shame, really, but not my problem.”
    I looked at his wrist, and his five thousand
dollar Rolex. “Is that new,” I asked, pointing, “your watch?”
    He framed the crystal between his finger and
thumb and angled it to the light to read it. “This old thing? Nah,
I’ve had this forever. I never take it off, even when I sleep.”
    “What about when you shower?” Carlos asked. I
knew where he was going with it, but I suspected Kemper would have
an answer for that, too. He turned his wrist toward us to display
the watch.
    “It’s waterproof.”
    I smiled at that. “Okay, Mister Kemper, I
guess we have used up enough of your time.”
    He smiled back. “Yes, you have.”
    “Oh, just one more thing, though.” We had
already stood and were reaching across the desk for handshakes.
    “Yes?”
    “Do you own a gun?”
    He hesitated just long enough to figure out
why I asked. “I do,” he said, adding, “it is registered with the
state, in case you are wondering.”
    “What is it, if you don’t mind?”
    “Not at all. It’s a Glock 9 semi-auto.”
    We finished shaking hands. “Thank you.”
    Outside in the parking lot, Carlos had plenty
to say about Paul Kemper. He made no bones about his disdain for
lawyers, singling out Kemper as the reason you cannot trust any of
them. “It’s so obvious he is lying,” said Carlos, working himself
up about it. “Only, he lies with a straight face. How does he do
that?”
    “What is he lying about?”
    “His relationship with Stiles, for one. And
don’t tell me he hasn’t talked or met with Landau since he got out
of prison. You heard him say that Landau still owed him big time
for defending him in court.”
    “Some defense,” I said. “Landau got
twenty-five to thirty for the robbery. I don’t suppose he felt he
owed Kemper any money for that.”
    “Well, they remained friends, you can bet. If
they weren’t, Kemper wouldn’t refer to him as René; instead he
would call him Landau or Mister Landau?”
    “Hmm, you noticed that, too.”
    “Yes and I noticed that expensive watch you
mentioned? I bet if we get a warrant to check it out, we’ll find
traces of Landau’s DNA on it from where it scratched his face.”
    “You think that is the watch Landau found on
Stile’s nightstand?”
    “Of course it is. Tony, come on, you heard
him say it’s waterproof. You could almost smell the toilet water
dripping off it.”
    I laughed at that. “You ought not jump to
conclusions, Carlos. It might cloud your objectivity. We still have
some digging to do you know.”
    “Digging? Yeah, for the money, because if you
ask me, that’s the only mystery left unsolved in this case.”
    “Oh?”
    He shook his