The Perfect Impression by Blake Pierce

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Jessie had barely processed the words when Melissa Ferro stormed out toward them from behind the bush where she’d apparently been hiding.

“This interview is over,” she hissed in a loud whisper. “Richard, don’t say another word!”

Jessie was so stunned that she almost fell out of her seat. Peters, to his credit, recovered quicker.

“You can’t be out here, Mrs. Ferro,” he said, standing up. “I asked you to wait in the bar.”

The woman shook her head violently, unmoved.

“This line of questioning is wholly inappropriate. You are invading our personal—”

“It’s okay, Mellie,” her husband interrupted, stunning Jessie for a second time. “Let’s just be honest with them. We have nothing to be ashamed of.”

His wife, flustered and confused, stood there in silence. Jessie pushed through her own shock and used the lull to press the man.

“You were saying, Mr. Ferro?”

He looked at her, then at his wife. After a moment, he stood up and reached out his hand to her. She came over and grasped it tight.

“Ms. Hunt,” he said, returning his attention to her. “As I said, I’m a gay man. I didn’t start to come to terms with it until later in life. By then I was married with two children. Before I acted on it, I told Melissa. I wanted to be, for lack of a better word, straight with her. It was difficult, but after many long, tough conversations, we decided to stay together. I love her, maybe not in the way one would expect, but with all my heart. She’s my best friend. We have kids. We’ve built a life together. I didn’t want to throw that away.”

“But I wanted him to be happy,” Melissa whispered, finally accepting that she couldn’t just end the conversation. “So we came up with a plan.”

“That’s right,” Richard added. “We decided to embrace this lifestyle, where those kinds of boundaries no longer exist. Now we’re both able to satisfy our desires without guilt and still hold onto the family we both treasure.”

“And you don’t resent him for this?” Peters asked Melissa Ferro.

“I did for a while,” she admitted. “It wasn’t what I envisioned for myself. But eventually I made peace with the fact that it was better than the alternative: breaking up our home. It’s unconventional, I’ll admit. But it works.”

“So what about last night?” Jessie asked, happy that they had found a path to stay together, but no closer to confirming Richard Ferro’s alibi.

“As I told you previously, I’m not comfortable saying his name,” he insisted. “But I will say this. If you went through the guest list of people staying here at the hotel last night, you could probably find one guest who fits the high-profile description I described. I was with him for a short stretch last night, from around ten thirty to ten forty-five, though I was well-lubricated and may have the times off.”

“Can anyone confirm this other than the man?” Jessie asked.

Ferro pondered the question in his mind for a second before responding.

“I don’t remember seeing anyone when we got to his room,” he admitted. “But I did make a big deal in the bar of saying I was going to help him get there because he was so toasted. He was faking being extra drunk to make it convincing. I think I told Maura, the bartender, to save my barstool or something. It was loud and crazy. She might not have even heard me.”

“So you were in his room for about fifteen minutes,” Peters confirmed. “Weren’t you concerned about his wife walking in?”

“No. He told me she’d be out until at least eleven. There was some kind of art show at the Catalina Casino she wanted to check out. He made an official appearance and then begged off so he could get back early to see me.”

“Did you know about any of this?” Jessie asked Melissa Ferro.

“I knew Rich had plans, though he wasn’t specific,” she said. “And as you may recall, I had made some of my own for around that same time. I made sure he wasn’t intending to use our suite but other than that, I left well enough alone.”

Peters looked hard at Richard Ferro. Jessie could tell he wasn’t excited about what he was about to say.

“Mr. Ferro,” he began, “I sympathize with the sensitivity of this situation. And we’ll try to confirm what we can independently. But you need to understand that we may have to talk to your liaison from last night to verify things.”

The man looked devastated.

“I would plead with you to do all you can to avoid that,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “This man opened up to me, made himself vulnerable. If he thinks I betrayed his trust, it could undo him. He’s already in a tenuous emotional place with the stress of living a lie.”

“We may not have a choice,” Jessie warned him.

“Then I may not have a choice either,” he said, standing up straight, seeming to find a new reserve of resilience. “If it comes down to it, I won’t make him be my alibi. It would destroy him. If he’s outed as part of some murder investigation, he won’t recover from that, professionally or personally. I fear what he’d do. If it comes to that, then just arrest me. If I have to take the heat for this to protect him, then so be it. I can handle it. You’ll eventually find Gabby’s killer and I’ll move on somehow. I’d rather have my reputation get temporarily dragged through the mud than feel responsible for someone’s death.”

Jessie looked over at Peters, who appeared as conflicted as she felt. She wanted to solve this case but she didn’t want it to turn into a witch hunt that ended in someone’s suicide. If there was a way to verify what Ferro said without going to this mystery man, she preferred to do it. Before she could express that thought, Melissa Ferro stepped forward, as if she was a human shield protecting her husband.

“You’ve heard what each of us has had to say. We’ve been more than accommodating. We’ve shared our deepest family secret. But you’re bordering on harassment here. We’re calling our lawyer and we’re not answering any more questions.”

She was still holding her husband’s hand and as she turned to leave, she tugged hard, taking him with her.

Jessie watched them go, knowing that they’d soon tell their friends about their decision. The rest of them would surely follow suit. The friendly interview portion of this investigation was officially over. And with that, so was any semblance of control.

It was only a matter of time now before these people left the island, free to backstop their legal options and if desperate, leave the country entirely. The game was almost over, and she was losing.