Page 56 of Wild Fever

His face tightened, and his wrinkled eyes narrowed with suspicion. "No such thing as routine. I’ve been around long enough to know that nothing good ever comes from talking to you boys. No offense."

I smiled. "None taken.”

Frank didn't close the door. Against his better judgment, he stood there out of curiosity, I assume.

"It’s my understanding you made quite the commotion at Thorne Wentworth and Associates not too long ago.”

Frank's face soured. "I didn't make a big enough commotion, if you ask me. Nothing's changed.”

"Did you make threats?”

"I didn't threaten nobody. But I sure as hell voiced my opinion. Every one of them son-of-a-bitches can rot in hell as far as I’m concerned. It's downright criminal what they done.”

"I’m told the board made some speculative investments that went south.”

Frank scoffed. "I'll say.”

"Sounds like an issue that needs to be taken up with the pension fund."

He glared at me. "Oh, I told those nitwits exactly how I felt as well. Who's accountable? Nobody, that's who. They play around with other people's money, lose it all, and nothing ever happens. Meanwhile, everything got more expensive. My pension stayed the same. I'm scraping by, not able to pay my medical bills. My wife passed last year from cancer, leaving me with a mountain of medical debt. I'm not gonna burden my son by asking him for help. That just doesn't seem right to me. He just got laid off. AI took his job.” Frank shook his head. “It’s just not fair. We all made sacrifices. Hell, I can barely breathe from years of smoke inhalation.”

Frank was in no condition to sabotage a cryo-tube. I didn't think he had the technical know-how to hack into the cryo lab’s servers.

"Tell me about your son. What kind of work did he do?"

"He works with computers. I don't really know the ins and outs of it. Information technology or some shit like that. He’s got a wife and two kids, and he doesn't need to be spending any money on me. He’s barely getting along himself. No job, and can’t find one. Everybody’s cutting staff. Plus, that’s an industry where there’s always some 20-year-old wiz kid willing to do yourjob for half the price. I tell him I’m getting along just fine. He doesn't need to worry none about me."

"That's admirable."

"Shit, it ain't admirable. It's just how it is.” Frank frowned and shook his head. “I thought I was doing everything I was supposed to do. I worked my whole life. Saved. Didn’t splurge. Turns out it wasn't enough."

I shared a sympathetic frown. "Can you tell me where you were last night between midnight and 2:00 AM?"

He looked at me like I was crazy. It was a silly question to ask, given his current situation. "I was out with two hookers snorting cocaine all night,” he snarked. “Where the hell do you think I was at, son?”

"I take it you were here at the apartment?"

"Well, look at the big brain on Detective Dipshit."

I laughed.

He pointed down the hallway to a plush recliner. "Fell asleep in the chair, watching reruns. Got up around 2:00 AM to piss, then went to bed.” An annoyed scowl tensed his face. "What's this about, anyway?”

"Lance Wentworth is dead.”

Frank didn't seem disappointed. "The Grim Reaper comes for us all. What's that got to do with me?"

"We're just having a conversation with everyone who was at odds with Lance and his firm."

"Well, I guess you've got a big job ahead of you. I'm sure there are a ton of people in the same situation I am."

"Does your son live here on the island?”

"He does.”

"I'd like to talk to him."

Frank's brow wrinkled. "About what?”