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with any help he could muster up.
I imagined it would be quite a feather in his cap to solve the
murder of a multimillionaire in this quiet, sleepy suburb. Cases
like this certainly didn't come around every day. Could even lead
to a promotion.
    "As I told Kitty, detective, I'm
just a guy that likes technology. I have no interest in solving
crimes."
    "Jealousy? Greed? Hatred? You've
got to have a guess."
    Was this his way of digging for more information? If
it was, it seems a little amateurish to me. I doubted many killers
just offered up their motive at the drop of a hat. He might want to
work on his technique.
    "I wish I knew,
detective."
    "I wish you did too,
Max."
    He was now standing. Peering down at Imogen and
myself, who were both still seated. In the power position. You
could tell he liked that dynamic.
    "Do me a favor, you two. Stick
around. Don't go taking any trips out of state."
    "Now why would we go and do
something like that?" I asked.
    "Just stick around."
    That was an order. Not a suggestion.
    The detective thanked me for my
time, and for Imogen's time, didn't thank Jabber for her time, and
then we all walked the detective to the door. The detective handed
me his card, told me to call anytime if I needed anything, wanted
to chat about the case, or felt the overwhelming desire to confess.
We all exchanged some pleasantries and he left.
    "Now what?" Imogen
asked.
    "Sunday brunch," I said. "With
more than a few Bloody Marys."

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    Monday, I went to work. Sat in on a few board
meetings. Met with the CEO of one of our companies and had a
two-hour meeting with his CFO about raising a new round of capital.
One that would hopefully be enough to bring his company to the next
level and to a possible IPO in the next year or two. That was
always tricky, though. It involved bringing other investors and
venture capital firms into the mix. More investors meant more
opinions. Never a good thing.
    When I finally arrived home, Imogen was not waiting
for me. Neither was dinner, for that matter. I was hungry, and what
better way to abate your hunger than by fixing yourself a drink?
The bar beckoned, so I poured a scotch. On my way over to the
couch, the doorbell rang.
    "Dutch!" Kitty said, as she pushed
her way into my house. "I heard the police were here
yesterday."
    "And hello to you, too,
Kitty."
    "What did they want?"
    Kitty strolled, uninvited again,
into the living room from the foyer where she had just verbally
accosted me. Jabber, who was just standing by my side, followed
Kitty like a shepherding dog. I was waiting for her to nip at
Kitty's four-inch Prada heels.
    "What do you think they
wanted?"
    "I haven't the faintest idea,"
Kitty said, waving her hand dismissively though the air.
    "They're watching you,
Kitty."
    Why give her the satisfaction of knowing that she
was right? That the police had indeed come knocking. That they
thought I had something to do with this whole mess.
    Kitty acted shocked, although her determined
expression showed something quite different.
    "Moi?"
    "Yes, toi . Your husband was murdered.
Remember?"
    "I see you're still as charming as
ever, Dutch."
    "Can I get you a drink?" I asked,
and took a sip of my own.
    "I'm not here for a drink." Kitty
scowled.
    "Well, if you don't mind, I'm
going to sit down and sip on mine. I've had a long day and you've
shown up unannounced."
    I sat on the couch and motioned for Kitty to have a
seat next to me.
    "Well don't blame me,
Dutch. Blame
these nosy detectives. Questions, questions, questions. They don't stop," she said as she sat
down.
    "Sounds like you blame them," I
said.
    "I blame them for thinking that I
killed my husband."
    "Are you sure you don't want that
drink?"
    Imogen opened the front door carrying a large brown
paper bag. Takeout. Finally, dinner has arrived. Imogen walked into
the living room, clearly disgusted with whom she saw sitting on the
couch. She greeted Kitty, ignored me, and then coldly, without even
acknowledging my