him, with its dark wood paneling, antique mahogany desk, and the old blackand-white photos of his parents and grandparents adorning the walls. It was his sanctuary, a place where he could stay up late preparing for trial or just relishing the silence and solitude that he often craved after a busy day.
He sat there now, trying to collect his scattered thoughts and decide exactly what he needed to do to address his current predicament. At the moment, the silence pervading his house was decidedly not comfortable; it was tense—painful, even. His wife and daughter had been home for over an hour now, but Karen hadn’t spoken with him since he told her about the previous evening’s events and she had glared at him with those angry, incriminating pale blue eyes. He could hear her shuffling around the house, sniffling quietly, while slamming drawers and doors not-so-quietly as she tended to her unpacking. That was her way when they had a disagreement, and he hated it. He would have much preferred that she explode and say whatever was on her mind, but she would never do that; she forced him to endure the silent treatment.
“Danny?” He was surprised to hear her calling his name. She stood in the study doorway, looking aloof. “There’s someone here to see you,” she said coolly. He followed her to the living room, where his heart sank at the sight of his visitor.
Victor Slazak stood before him. “Mr. Moran, I’m Detective Slazak. We met last night. I was hoping we could visit for a few minutes.”
Danny composed himself quickly. “Sure, Detective. Have a seat,” he said, motioning to the living room sofa. Danny sat at the other end of the sofa and faced the detective. Karen stood behind an armchair across the room, obviously intent on listening.
“Sorry to stop by unannounced,” Slazak said, “but I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop in. This shouldn’t take long. I just have a couple of things I’d like to ask you about.”
Danny stared at the detective, saying nothing. Slazak continued. “First, I’m following up on last night’s events—you know, just trying to piece together exactly what happened. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions.”
Danny looked unsure of himself. “Detective, I’ve never been in this situation before, and I don’t really know how it works. I don’t want to seem uncooperative, but I feel like I should consult with an attorney before I agree to any further questioning.”
That was the response Slazak had been expecting. He was disappointed, but did his best to appear nonchalant. “I understand,” Slazak said. “That’s certainly your right, Mr. Moran. I just thought that since there’s not much in dispute here, and since you’re a lawyer yourself, you might be willing to answer just a few simple questions.”
“Sorry, Detective. I know you have a job to do, and I respect that. But let’s defer any questioning until after I’ve had a chance to confer with my attorney. What’s the second item on your agenda?”
“I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t hurt in the accident. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Detective. Not a scratch on me. Thanks for asking.”
“By the way, do you happen to know your blood type?”
“Type O, I believe.”
Danny watched as Slazak scribbled something in his notebook and wondered whether he’d been tricked and had made a mistake by answering those innocent-sounding questions. He decided to bring the meeting to a close. “Do you have a card, Detective? Once I’ve retained counsel, I’ll ask my attorney to call you.”
Slazak stood up, put away his notebook, and handed Danny his card.
“How’s Mr. McGrath?” Danny asked with some trepidation as he walked Slazak toward the door.
“Not good,” Slazak replied curtly. “He’s in a coma. His doctors don’t know whether he’ll pull through or not.”
Danny watched the detective hurry down the front walk-way and climb into his car. “You better
He sat there now, trying to collect his scattered thoughts and decide exactly what he needed to do to address his current predicament. At the moment, the silence pervading his house was decidedly not comfortable; it was tense—painful, even. His wife and daughter had been home for over an hour now, but Karen hadn’t spoken with him since he told her about the previous evening’s events and she had glared at him with those angry, incriminating pale blue eyes. He could hear her shuffling around the house, sniffling quietly, while slamming drawers and doors not-so-quietly as she tended to her unpacking. That was her way when they had a disagreement, and he hated it. He would have much preferred that she explode and say whatever was on her mind, but she would never do that; she forced him to endure the silent treatment.
“Danny?” He was surprised to hear her calling his name. She stood in the study doorway, looking aloof. “There’s someone here to see you,” she said coolly. He followed her to the living room, where his heart sank at the sight of his visitor.
Victor Slazak stood before him. “Mr. Moran, I’m Detective Slazak. We met last night. I was hoping we could visit for a few minutes.”
Danny composed himself quickly. “Sure, Detective. Have a seat,” he said, motioning to the living room sofa. Danny sat at the other end of the sofa and faced the detective. Karen stood behind an armchair across the room, obviously intent on listening.
“Sorry to stop by unannounced,” Slazak said, “but I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop in. This shouldn’t take long. I just have a couple of things I’d like to ask you about.”
Danny stared at the detective, saying nothing. Slazak continued. “First, I’m following up on last night’s events—you know, just trying to piece together exactly what happened. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions.”
Danny looked unsure of himself. “Detective, I’ve never been in this situation before, and I don’t really know how it works. I don’t want to seem uncooperative, but I feel like I should consult with an attorney before I agree to any further questioning.”
That was the response Slazak had been expecting. He was disappointed, but did his best to appear nonchalant. “I understand,” Slazak said. “That’s certainly your right, Mr. Moran. I just thought that since there’s not much in dispute here, and since you’re a lawyer yourself, you might be willing to answer just a few simple questions.”
“Sorry, Detective. I know you have a job to do, and I respect that. But let’s defer any questioning until after I’ve had a chance to confer with my attorney. What’s the second item on your agenda?”
“I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t hurt in the accident. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Detective. Not a scratch on me. Thanks for asking.”
“By the way, do you happen to know your blood type?”
“Type O, I believe.”
Danny watched as Slazak scribbled something in his notebook and wondered whether he’d been tricked and had made a mistake by answering those innocent-sounding questions. He decided to bring the meeting to a close. “Do you have a card, Detective? Once I’ve retained counsel, I’ll ask my attorney to call you.”
Slazak stood up, put away his notebook, and handed Danny his card.
“How’s Mr. McGrath?” Danny asked with some trepidation as he walked Slazak toward the door.
“Not good,” Slazak replied curtly. “He’s in a coma. His doctors don’t know whether he’ll pull through or not.”
Danny watched the detective hurry down the front walk-way and climb into his car. “You better
Similar Books
