11 A Famous Italian Model

Ford's P.O.V:

"She wasn't directly in your employment, Mr. Zoldyck, however she was involved with someone you are in business with." I raised my eyebrows at his statement for him to keep going, I knew that wasn't it.

"Do you know Fredrick Fecinilli? We believe you were in some sort of business with him?" he enquired, professionally.

"I wouldn't call it business yet. I've been considering of increasing my exports to Italy and that's where he comes into play; though nothings final yet. Why is that of any relevance of here? What involvement could my business associates have with this case? And even if they are involved, in any way at all, I fail to see the reason behind why am I being questioned, Lieutenant?" I asked him this time. This game of 20 questions is now boring me out, honestly.

"The girl that died is actually Jenna Deniro, a famous Italian model and she was the fiancé of Fredrick Fecinilli." I portrayed a tone of surprise on my features.

"What? Oh that's so awful to hear, poor girl. I should pay my condolences to Fredrick, don't you think?"

"I'm afraid that's not going to be possible for now, Mr. Zoldyck. Moving on, our main reason to be here is that we wanted to ask you a few questions about Jenna Deniro, I hope that's ok with you? But can I ask how well did you know her personally?" he asked again with that scrutiny shining bright in his eyes.

I wonder if he knows how readable his eyes are and that anybody could see as clear as a day that he was analyzing them; it's also equally possible that it's just me; I am after all fairly decent at reading people. Especially his kind; the righteous, moral ones, you know.

Again I have to answer with caution. I know he knows something and is just asking me that to know what I say in return. Its pretty basic procedure for the police detectives to retrace the steps of their victims; and to know the hours right before the murder is crucial for starting an investigation.

Now where were you just hours before your departure Jenna? Oh yeah, with me! In a very public hotel having drinks on a bar in front of a bartender who was clearly eavesdropping on our conversation. Now I wouldn't call myself a genius by assuming somebody talked to that bartender and now probing me to see if I lie or not.

I was the last person she was seen talking to before her death. Wow now that is what I was looking for; riveting.