Page 29 of Zero Divergence
“I rent the room. I couldn’t afford to pay Vivian much, but I earn my keep. So what if I work weekends at The Cockpit as a waiter to supplement my income from my law firm to pay for college and expenses? I make more serving drinks to horny men in two nights than I make in two weeks at Elderwood, Johnson, and McClary.” Blakemore narrowed his eyes at Sawyer. “What? You don’t believe I earn good tips, Detective?”
The Cockpit had been Sawyer’s favorite watering hole when he was looking to score. He vividly recalled the barely there uniforms the servers wore. The owner had chosen an aviation theme to match the club name and hired the hottest men to don the pilot’s hat, aviator glasses, mesh crop tops, and navy blue booty shorts with gold aviator wings on the crotch and the club’s name on the back, making every horny man want to bury his dick inside those cockpits. Sawyer had gone home with a few servers prior to meeting Royce but had never run into Kendall there. He had zero doubts Blakemore raked in the big bucks on the nights he worked.
“I’m not questioning your earnings,” Sawyer replied. “I’m just surprised you’re old enough to serve drinks in a club.”
Blakemore snorted. “I’ll be twenty-five next month.” Sawyer would need to see proof to believe it but decided to let it drop since it wasn’t essential to the case.
“How long have you rented a room from Ms. Gross?” Royce asked, getting them back on topic.
“Almost nine months,” he said. He closed his eyes, and fresh tears spilled down his face. “I’ve worked as her assistant for five years. You couldn’t find two more different people than Vivian and me if you tried, but we just clicked from the moment we met. I taught her how to lighten up and laugh, and she taught me how to stand up for myself, even to the people I should’ve never had to fear. She bought me the biggest bottle of champagne when the Supreme Court ruled gay marriage bans were unconstitutional. She championed me every step of the way when she had nothing to gain in return. I cannot believe she’s gone. Didhedo this?”
“Who?” Royce asked, playing dumb.
“You, of all people, know exactly who I’m talking about, Sergeant Locke,” Blakemore said dryly. “Franco Humphries.” He said the name slowly and succinctly enunciated each syllable.
“I can’t answer those types of questions during an ongoing investigation,” Royce countered. “I am curious why you immediately assumed Humphries killed her. The man owes his freedom to her—freedom she felt he deserved, by the way. You think Humphries repaid her faith in him by killing her?”
Blakemore snorted. “Do not mistake her faith in the legal system as faith in her clients.”
“Are you saying Ms. Gross believed Franco Humphries was guilty of raping and killing those women?” Royce asked.
Kendall Blakemore shook his head, his lips tipping up in a sardonic smile. “Nice try, Sergeant. Vivian didn’t discuss her personal thoughts about her clients’ innocence or guilt with me. She did, however, express her commitment to making sure the police follow the letter of the law and not railroad people through a corrupt system.”
Sawyer glanced at his partner to judge his reaction. The skin around Royce’s eyes tightened, and his eyes turned a flinty, cold gray. When his lips curled into a mocking sneer, Sawyer knew he needed to intervene before Royce said something they’d regret later. They needed this guy to help them.
“You still haven’t explained why you jumped to the conclusion that Humphries was our killer,” Sawyer prodded.
Blakemore shrugged. “He’s always rubbed me the wrong way.”
Alwaysled Sawyer to believe Blakemore knew Humphries, or at least knew of him, longer than the few months Gross had represented Humphries. Then again, maybe he’d retained Gross for other legal matters in the past.
“Always?” Royce countered, voicing Sawyer’s thoughts.
The blond man pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “He just got under my skin since the first day I stepped into his classroom.” Royce wondered if Blakemore was familiar with any of the professor’s victims.
“I saw your textbooks on the bed. Are you taking paralegal studies at South University?” Sawyer asked.
“I am,” Blakemore said, dropping his hand and meeting Sawyer’s gaze. “Yeah, I knew Tara Riker from school. I didn’t know her well, and we didn’t hang out, but she was a nice person. Vivian and I argued a few times about her representing Humphries. She just kept reiterating that everyone deserves legal representation and a fair trial.” Blakemore looked at Royce with a conciliatory expression on his face. “I didn’t mean to imply you are corrupt, Sergeant Locke.”
Royce nodded politely but allowed Sawyer to continue the interview.
“Why don’t you tell us how you discovered Ms. Gross,” Sawyer said.
A hard shiver rolled its way through Blakemore. “I haven’t talked to her since I left the office on Friday evening. I stopped by here to do some homework and shower before going to my gig at TC. I hooked up with a guy that night and didn’t come home until this morning. I think I got home around four thirty. I have early classes every Monday, then head to the law office around lunchtime.”
“You didn’t communicate with her over the weekend to let her know you weren’t coming home?” Royce asked, breaking his silence.
“I’m not a child who needs permission, Sergeant.”
“Of course not,” Royce said, but it sounded patronizing to Sawyer, and judging by Blakemore’s sour expression, he thought so too.
“You said you’ve been gone since Friday night,” Sawyer said. “We’re going to need the names of the people who can confirm where you were this weekend.”
“People?” Blakemore asked, his voice lowering as his eyebrows rose toward his hairline. “What kind of slut do you think I am?”Uh-oh.
“You’re not a child who needs permission,” Royce reminded him before Sawyer could respond.
“Touché,” Blakemore said dryly.