Ice Cap by Chris Knopf

sweater. A black baseball hat covered his blond crew cut, completing the look of a Special Forces commando recently returned from behind enemy lines. I resisted the urge to salute.
    He introduced himself to Dayna, then ruffled the fur on Misty’s head before ordering her in a calm, firm voice to go lie down, which she instantly did. Dayna looked impressed. She offered coffee and we accepted.
    After she left the office, Sullivan said, “Nice to see you.”
    â€œI’m sure,” I said. “And no, I won’t go lie down in the corner.”
    He took off his hat, scratched his head, and put it back on again.
    â€œThat thing yesterday that Ross had me do,” he said. “I told him, never again.”
    â€œUnderstood.”
    â€œHe’s really got a bug up his butt about this one.”
    â€œRoss was born with a bug up his butt,” I said.
    â€œRoss takes everything that happens in Southampton personally. You know that. He read the case files and thinks you did a disservice getting Franco an early release.”
    Southampton is actually a pretty big place, encompassing as it does villages like Quogue, Water Mill, Bridgehampton, Sagaponack, Hampton Bays, and Southampton Village itself. In a bad winter like this, though, it could really start to feel like a small town. With only two or three degrees of separation between the full-time locals, it was a fine line between intimate and claustrophobic.
    â€œI didn’t know that,” I said. “And even if I did, it wouldn’t have changed what I did. It was clearly self-defense.”
    â€œIt was a sword fight between a kitchen knife and some barbecue equipment wielded by Franco, a former fencing champion at Duke University. But who’s keeping score?”
    I scowled at him.
    â€œOkay,” said Sullivan, taking a coffee mug from Dayna, who’d just returned to the office, “let’s move on to the current situation.”
    The first half hour was easy for everybody. Sullivan put on his just-here-to-help-ma’am, regular-guy performance, which Dayna gladly soaked up. He didn’t challenge her on the facts as she knew them, resulting in the same story he’d heard from me. But then, at the end of the interview, after he’d already thanked her and seemed to be headed for the door, he stopped and looked back at her.
    â€œOh, just one more thing,” he said. “How did Franco seem to you? Was he nervous, jumpy, that sort of thing?”
    â€œDayna’s not an expert on Franco’s state of mind, Columbo,” I said.
    â€œThis isn’t a courtroom,” he said, then added, “Did he look furtive, you know, shifty, like he was hiding something?”
    â€œWe’ve already stated that Franco was agitated and concerned,” I said. “You’d be, too, if you’d just found your boss with his head bashed in.”
    â€œThat’s right,” said Dayna with an upbeat voice, “agitated and concerned. Though I’d never met the man, so I wouldn’t know what he’s like normally.”
    Good answer, I thought.
    â€œAnd what about Ms. Swaitkowski?” he asked. “What about her state of mind? Was she agitated as well?”
    â€œHold it right there,” I said.
    â€œYou’re not just Franco’s lawyer,” he said. “You’re also a witness. Did you think she and Mr. Raffini showed excessive concern about calling the police?” he asked Dayna. “Did you feel they were worried about certain information being revealed?”
    Dayna answered before I had a chance to jump in front of her.
    â€œMs. Swaitkowski seemed annoyed that Mr. Raffini had yet to call the police and insisted that he do so immediately. She instructed Mr. Raffini to tell the officers arriving on the scene the complete truth and to leave nothing out. She said he could trust you completely, that you were good guys,” she added matter-of-factly.
    I just