CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“What was his demeanor like when you picked him up?” Webb demanded.
Jessie sighed in resignation.
When they learned that Officer Devery had returned with Mannix and placed him in interrogation room one, they rushed over to find Devery standing guard at the door. But before Jessie could introduce the two men, Special Agent Webb was aggressively asserting himself.
“I’m sorry,” Devery said, looking questioningly at Jessie. “Who’s your friend?”
She quickly explained Webb's presence to him before making sure to give the officer his due. "Special Agent Webb, this is Officer Harper Devery. He's relatively new to the force. But in his short time here at Central Station, he's proven invaluable to multiple HSS cases. We're glad to have him."
Devery beamed at the compliment as his cheeks turned pink.
“That’s great,” Webb said with an indifferent wave of his hand. “Now what was Mannix like when you told him you were bringing him in?”
"Mostly, he seemed confused," Devery said, pointedly directing his answer to Jessie and not Webb.
"I told him you had more questions and that he needed to come with me.
He asked if he was under arrest. I said no.
He asked what I knew about the questions you had.
I said I didn't know anything. Basically, I tried to adopt the demeanor you instructed: I was professional but cold.
I tried to give him the sense that he was in trouble without ever saying that. "
“Fantastic,” Jessie told him. “I assume he didn’t volunteer anything incriminating?”
“No,” Devery said. “After he realized he couldn’t get anything out of me, he tried to engage me in more casual conversation about the weather, the Dodgers, that kind of thing. But I kept my answers monosyllabic. By the time we got here, he seemed pretty agitated.”
“Thanks very much, Devery,” she said. “You deserve a break after all that driving.”
“Happy to do it,” the young officer said. “Please let me know if I can help in any other way.”
Before she responded, Webb interjected. “You can help by bringing me a coffee—black, with four sugars.”
For the briefest of moments, anger flashed in Devery’s eyes. He looked like he might like to take a swing at the man. But the moment was gone before Webb even noticed it. He offered a forced smile.
“Sure thing,” he said, giving Jessie a sympathetic frown before heading off.
She turned to Webb. “Special Agent, have you ever heard the phrase You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?”
“Why would I want to catch flies?” he asked, either being sarcastic or dense. She didn’t know him well enough to decide which. Either way, Webb didn’t seem interested in catching flies or making friends.
“Shall we talk to Mannix?” she said, giving up.
“Let’s do it,” he replied, again with more fervor than she thought advisable.
They opened the door to find Jason Mannix sitting at the table, waiting for them with an anxious grimace on his face. Unlike interrogation room three, the table in here was metal, not wood, and the lighting was harsher by design.
But even that couldn’t diminish the man’s stunning good looks. Other than his tired red eyes, he looked like he could pose for a men’s magazine right now. His casual pink button-down shirt and distressed blue jeans hung off him perfectly.
“Thanks for coming in, Mr. Mannix,” Jessie said, trying to take control of the interview before Webb injected himself into the questioning.
“I got the impression from that cop that I didn’t have much choice,” he said with a half-hearted smile.
“Oh,” she said, waving her hand casually. “That’s just Officer Devery’s manner. Don’t read too much into it.”
“Who’s this gentleman?” Mannix asked.
Jessie introduced Webb.
“Where’s Detective Bray?”
"She's been reassigned," Webb said. That wasn't technically true, but Jessie decided not to contradict him. "The CBI is running point on this now."
“Why?” Mannix asked. “What changed?”
“I’ll ask the questions,” Webb said curtly.
At that, Mannix sat up straighter in the chair. His tentative smile faded, and his tired eyes became instantly more alert.
"Well, I don't love the sound of that," he said. "Is this the sort of thing I need a lawyer for?"
Jessie's heart sank. This was exactly the kind of pissing contest she'd hoped to avoid.
She wanted to get to the bottom of Mannix's true relationship status with both victims, and putting him on his heels right away didn't feel like the most constructive way to get those answers. She tried to smooth things over.
“Special Agent Webb is just anxious to find out what happened to Lauren, as we all are,” she said quickly, “which is why he’s so direct.
We certainly understand that you’re in mourning, Mr. Mannix.
But I have to say, there were a few discrepancies in your version of events that had me perplexed. I’d like to clear them up.”
She fought the urge to glance over at Webb and give him a pleading look to let her try this tactic before he went all “bad cop.”
“So would I,” Mannix said. “It’s just that the energy in the room right now is pretty aggressive. Still, you know that I want to do whatever I can to get justice for Lauren, Ms. Hunt.”
His tremulous voice and almost prayerful eyes would have melted her resolve yesterday. But she managed to steel herself to his charismatic woundedness and proceeded.
“You said that you spent the night at your friend’s place the night that Lauren was killed. I believe his name is Hank?”
“That’s right, Hank Cronin,” he told her.
She nodded as if that was a perfectly fine answer.
“It’s just weird, because we’ve tried to reach out to Hank multiple times and our calls keep going straight to voicemail. You’d think the man would return a call from the police, you know?”
Mannix’s expression went from startled to concerned to understanding in the space of about two seconds.
“I think I may know what happened,” he said.
“Hank mentioned that he was leaving on a business trip to China. I thought he said he was leaving next Wednesday. But now that I think about it, he might have meant yesterday. If that’s the case, then he might still be in the air or not have set up his phone eSIM over there yet. ”
Jessie could feel Webb about to jump in and catch the man in his lie. But if she wanted to unsettle Mannix into making a mistake that could actually prove productive, she didn’t have much time.
“Maybe. We’ll check on that again,” she said quickly, deciding now was the time to throw out the red meat and see how he reacted. “In the meantime, I was hoping you could clear something up for me.”
“Of course,” he said, his smile like a tractor beam she had to remind herself not to get pulled in by.
“Thanks. So, other than Lauren Mitchell and Sarah Winters, how many other fake wives do you have?”