Watchdog by Laurien Berenson Page A

we’re always out there on time. I’d just come back inside when Frank called.”
    Now that the detective had turned his gaze on me, I saw why my brother was wringing his hands. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Even so, being interrogated by the long arm of the law made me feel jumpy.
    â€œWhat was your relationship to Mr. Rattigan?” Petrie asked Frank.
    â€œWe were business partners.”
    This was no time for my brother to start over-stating his involvement. “Just here,” I interjected. “Not in general. Rattigan owns this building, and Frank was renovating it.”
    Petrie paused for a long moment. “It would be better if you’d let your brother answer the questions himself.”
    Not really. Actually, I was quite certain it would be better if I answered for him. Not that I had any choice. “Okay.”
    â€œNow, then,” said the detective. “You arrived at about eight-thirty. What was your reason for coming here?”
    â€œTo open the building. To get things started for the day.”
    â€œThe door was locked when you got here?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDid you notice anything unusual upon your arrival?”
    Frank thought for a moment, then shook his head.
    â€œHad you planned to meet Mr. Rattigan here this morning?”
    â€œNo, usually he works in his office downtown. He’s only stopped by here once or twice.”
    Was that true? I wondered. Or was Frank shading the truth to make it sound better? When I’d met Rattigan the week before, Frank had been expecting his visit; he’d implied that it was something that happened regularly.
    Don’t blow it, I thought, sending my brother a mental message to be careful. Get your facts straight!
    Step by step, Detective Petrie led Frank through the events of the morning thus far. He questioned him about the details of his relationship with Rattigan, asked who’d installed the skylight and when the work had been done. They discussed the hole in the floor and the worker who’d fallen through. Then Petrie requested the names and addresses of all the other men in the construction crew. Carefully he recorded each of Frank’s answers in a small notebook.
    Finally the detective recapped his pen and slid it into a pocket. The interview was drawing to a close. “Has anyone been on the roof in the last couple of days?”
    â€œMaybe. I’m not sure,” Frank waffled. “I’m not here all the time, you know. I don’t think so.”
    With answers like that, it was no wonder Petrie was ready to take a break. Instead of trying to pin Frank down, he merely said, “You live in Cos Cob, right? I want you to stay available. I’m sure I’ll have more questions at a later date.”
    While we’d been talking, the medical examiner and a team of technicians had arrived. Petrie left us and went back inside to confer with them.
    Frank swore loudly when he’d gone. “What’s with that guy? You’d think I was a suspect or something.”
    I stared at my brother. “Wake up, Frank! You are a suspect.”
    I looked around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear what I was about to say. The ambulance had long since left, and everyone else was inside. “You and Rattigan were partners together in the building where he was found dead. Not only that, but according to what you told me yesterday, there was a good chance he was about to screw you out of a lot of money.”
    Frank’s tongue nervously moistened his lips. “The police don’t know that.”
    â€œMaybe not now, but they will soon enough once they start asking questions and going through his records. I think you ought to get a lawyer.”
    â€œBut I didn’t do anything! Besides, nothing would make me look guilty faster.”
    I stepped away from the railing and looked inside the window. Rattigan’s body had been removed, and the police seemed to