here, that would be fine.” I turned, still smiling, to walk away but couldn’t resist a retort to her comment. I faced her again. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Esposito, but if you don’t mind me asking, does that hurt?”
“Does what hurt?” She looked confused.
“Your face, when you talk, smile, blink, and breathe? I couldn’t help but ask…It just looks excruciatingly painful.” I walked away and grabbed a magazine before sitting on the large, comfy couch.
Her face turned ten different shades of red beforeshe stood up and walked out of the reception area, going to her husband, no doubt. He was standing in front of me in less than five minutes.
“Sergeant, if you would like a statement from me, I expect from you a little professionalism when you’re in my office.” He glared.
Even seated on the couch, I could still determine he was only a few inches taller than I was. Donovan Esposito might have been attractive, if not for the sizeable nose that took up the majority of his face. Being a plastic surgeon, one might think he would’ve liked to take care of it. However, he probably thought it was sexy.
In his late forties, he had a ruddy complexion that set off his dark brown, hard, and unfriendly eyes. His professionally groomed hair was significantly gelled. His blue designer shirt, tie, and black slacks bore not a hint of a wrinkle. Shining prominently from his left wrist was a two-tone platinum and gold Baume & Mercier Swiss watch with small diamonds surrounding the dial, worth, at a minimum, ten thousand dollars. Donovan Esposito was a walking bank.
“I extend my apologies to you and your wife, Doctor. I was merely responding to the rude comments made by your wife regarding my need for extensive Botox injections.” I stood up.
Dr. Esposito glared toward the reception window where his wife stood. Receiving the silent message, she looked down at the desk in shame before walking away.
“I guess I’ll have to apologize for Mrs. Esposito as well, Sergeant. We certainly don’t need to start this off on the wrong foot, do we?” He stood back and looked me up and down. “Well, you certainly are attractive,aren’t you? I see no need for Botox! And I have to say, whoever did your breast augmentation did a fabulous job. Someone local?”
My face burned. “No one you know.”
He had succeeded in degrading me, a strategic step in his attempts to dominate the interview. It took a conscious effort on my part to gather my wits as he led me into his office. Now it was game time.
“Please, have a seat, Sergeant. I have just a few minutes before my next patient is due.” He sat behind his impressive oak desk while motioning for me to sit in one of the leather chairs in front of it.
I sat down. “Doctor, as I explained to you on the phone earlier, I’m investigating two homicides in the Mansfield area. Each of the victims had major organs removed surgically, and I believe you can assist me in filling in some gaps.”
“Whatever I can do to help, Sergeant.” He leaned back in his chair, smiling and clasping his hands together.
I grabbed my pen, notebook, and file out of my briefcase, covertly pushing the record button of the tape recorder that sat inside.
“Doctor, this is protocol, so bear with me. Are you speaking to me voluntarily? Have you been coerced, threatened, or intimidated into giving me this statement? Do you understand that you are free to cease this conversation at any time?” I hated having to say this. It merely reminded someone that they could tell me to get the hell out of here.
“Yes, I understand all of that.”
“Great. Now, if you would, please explain to me your position at LifeTech Industries and the Quinn-Herstin Funeral Home.”
“I’d be happy to, but first, Sergeant, can you explain to me again why you need to know all of this? I was a little tired this morning when I spoke with you on the phone. What does this have to do with your murders?” His position and facial
“Does what hurt?” She looked confused.
“Your face, when you talk, smile, blink, and breathe? I couldn’t help but ask…It just looks excruciatingly painful.” I walked away and grabbed a magazine before sitting on the large, comfy couch.
Her face turned ten different shades of red beforeshe stood up and walked out of the reception area, going to her husband, no doubt. He was standing in front of me in less than five minutes.
“Sergeant, if you would like a statement from me, I expect from you a little professionalism when you’re in my office.” He glared.
Even seated on the couch, I could still determine he was only a few inches taller than I was. Donovan Esposito might have been attractive, if not for the sizeable nose that took up the majority of his face. Being a plastic surgeon, one might think he would’ve liked to take care of it. However, he probably thought it was sexy.
In his late forties, he had a ruddy complexion that set off his dark brown, hard, and unfriendly eyes. His professionally groomed hair was significantly gelled. His blue designer shirt, tie, and black slacks bore not a hint of a wrinkle. Shining prominently from his left wrist was a two-tone platinum and gold Baume & Mercier Swiss watch with small diamonds surrounding the dial, worth, at a minimum, ten thousand dollars. Donovan Esposito was a walking bank.
“I extend my apologies to you and your wife, Doctor. I was merely responding to the rude comments made by your wife regarding my need for extensive Botox injections.” I stood up.
Dr. Esposito glared toward the reception window where his wife stood. Receiving the silent message, she looked down at the desk in shame before walking away.
“I guess I’ll have to apologize for Mrs. Esposito as well, Sergeant. We certainly don’t need to start this off on the wrong foot, do we?” He stood back and looked me up and down. “Well, you certainly are attractive,aren’t you? I see no need for Botox! And I have to say, whoever did your breast augmentation did a fabulous job. Someone local?”
My face burned. “No one you know.”
He had succeeded in degrading me, a strategic step in his attempts to dominate the interview. It took a conscious effort on my part to gather my wits as he led me into his office. Now it was game time.
“Please, have a seat, Sergeant. I have just a few minutes before my next patient is due.” He sat behind his impressive oak desk while motioning for me to sit in one of the leather chairs in front of it.
I sat down. “Doctor, as I explained to you on the phone earlier, I’m investigating two homicides in the Mansfield area. Each of the victims had major organs removed surgically, and I believe you can assist me in filling in some gaps.”
“Whatever I can do to help, Sergeant.” He leaned back in his chair, smiling and clasping his hands together.
I grabbed my pen, notebook, and file out of my briefcase, covertly pushing the record button of the tape recorder that sat inside.
“Doctor, this is protocol, so bear with me. Are you speaking to me voluntarily? Have you been coerced, threatened, or intimidated into giving me this statement? Do you understand that you are free to cease this conversation at any time?” I hated having to say this. It merely reminded someone that they could tell me to get the hell out of here.
“Yes, I understand all of that.”
“Great. Now, if you would, please explain to me your position at LifeTech Industries and the Quinn-Herstin Funeral Home.”
“I’d be happy to, but first, Sergeant, can you explain to me again why you need to know all of this? I was a little tired this morning when I spoke with you on the phone. What does this have to do with your murders?” His position and facial
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