“No! Look, I can see how this looks. And I admit that I was a little out of order yesterday, with that road incident. But I wouldn’tmurder the man. I didn’t even know him!”
“So now you do admit that you deliberately tried to drive Jeff Felfan’s car off the road yesterday,” said Chase.
“Well… yes, okay. So I was upset, all right? And a little worked up. But that stupid woman sent the NYPD to my apartment! They asked me all kinds of questions and made me look like a criminal! They even had a warrant to search my computer, and my phone, and they said that if they found anythingto tie me to this harassment campaign they’d bring charges against me and I’d go to prison!”
“It wasn’t a harassment campaign,” said Odelia. “Though with the road incident and those rocks thrown through the window last night it’s certainly starting to look like one.”
“Did you throw those rocks, Mr. Crowley?” asked Chase. He was leaning into the man, and seeing as he was still only dressed in his underwear Crowley didn’t look very confident right now. In fact he looked downright intimidated.
“Y-y-yes?” he said weakly.
“So not only do you admit using your car as a weapon, but also throwing rocks through the window of the house where Stephanie Felfan was staying?”
“Yes, all right. I threw those rocks. It’s just that… That NYPD officer who paid me a visit? She also talked to the folks at WelBeQ. Asked them to hand over the emails and the photographs they received. So WelBeQ called me and said that in light of recent developments they were going in a different direction and were no longer interested in engaging my services.” At the recollection of that phone call some of his old belligerence returned to the fore. “So Stephanie Felfan managed to ruin everything! By filing that complaint—thatunfounded complaint—she lost me a unique opportunity. An opportunity that would have changed my life!”
“So you tried to drive her off the road, then broke that window, and this afternoon you lured her husband Jeff to a flat in town and killed him,” said Chase.
“What?! No! Of course not!”
“But you were angry, Mr. Crowley. Very angry with Stephanie Felfan. So angry you followed her all the way out here to Hampton Cove. So angry you acquired an illegal gun and killed the man you knew she loved more than anyone in the world. You could have killed her, of course, but you wanted to make her suffer. You wanted her to feel your pain. Like she made you suffer when she lost you that job—a job that meant everything to you. Isn’t that what happened, Mr. Crowley?!”
He was face to face now with the aspiring designer, and Crowley stared into the man’s eyes, transfixed, and said, “Yes…” But then he seemed to realize what he was saying and quickly amended his response. “No! Of course not!”
“You killed Jeff Felfan and Cipriana Cilke. Cipriana was a prostitute, and you wanted to make it look as if Jeff Felfan had acquired her services, then was shot by her, at which point you made it look as if she shot herself.”
“I didn’t do that,” said Crowley, shaking his head. Sweat was beading on his brow, and I had the impression he had soiled himself during the interrogation. “The car and the window—yes. But I didn’t kill anyone. I’m not a murderer.”
But Chase wasn’t placated. He clapped a heavy hand on the man’s shoulder and said, “Edmundo Crowley, I’m arresting you for the murder of Jeff Felfan and Cipriana Cilke.”
CHAPTER 20
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Unfortunately for Chase, Crowley wouldn’t admit to murder, no matter how hard he leaned on the man. His phone and laptop were seized—yet again, for the NYPD had apparently done the same thing—but revealed nothing incriminating. His search history, his call and message history—nothing to indicate he bought that gun, much less hadsent a message to Jeff arranging that fateful meeting.
“I’m going to keep him overnight,” said Chase as he conferred with his boss. We were in the little room next to the interview room, with a clear view of the suspect as he sat at the table, his head in his hands. “Let him think about what he did. Maybe tomorrow he’ll be more amenable to assist us in our inquiries.”
“I don’t think he did it, babe,” said Odelia. “Just look at him. Does he look like a killer? I don’t think so. He was upset about losing the job, of course. And so he reacted out of spite. But this double murder is an entirely different thing. It’s calculated and planned. Not something you do on the spur of the moment just because you’re angry that someone made you lose your dream job.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. He hasn’t admitted to the smear campaign either, so we know he’s lying about that as well.”
“I still think we’re wasting our time here,” said Odelia.
“Okay, so let him sweat for a while,” the Chief suggested. “And in the meantime I want you back at the Stewart Winery to talk to the family. See if you can’t dig a little deeper. Maybe the Felfans have other enemies besides Mr. Crowley here. Though I have to admit he looks like the perfect suspect to me.”