9 - There dwells a spirit, waiting to be released

The detective glanced around before saying, “Why don’t you sit down sir. Please. I have some questions I need to ask you.”

“I’d rather…” Merlyn mumbled, and then realized he wouldn’t rather stand there. His knees felt weak and his hands were shaking. He pushed off the wall, walking stiltedly to the sofa where he collapsed, burying his head in his hands.

He felt her hand patting his shoulder and then the detective asked, “Would you like some water, or coffee if you have it?”

“Water, please,” he told her, not looking up.

A minute later she returned, tapping his shoulder and then handing him a cold glass of water. He gulped it down, thanking her.

“Now, if you’re ready,” she said softly but firmly.

“I suppose.”

“You said you saw him a few hours ago. Where was that?”

“At a club we visited.” He named it and she nodded, her face showing she knew of it but nothing more. “We’d only been there a few minutes when he got a message from someone he called ‘an old acquaintance’.”

“Did he tell you who that was?”

“No. He just excused himself and left the room.”

“Was this message by phone?”

“No. The young man serving us brought it to him. I take it you didn’t find it on him.”

“No sir. Do you know the server’s name, or would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

“No and yes,” Merlyn replied succinctly.

“Alright. Now, as far as you know, did Mr. Weber have any enemies?”

Merlyn smiled tightly. “Alton made friends with every man he met, or tried to. To the best of my knowledge none of them would have any reason to dislike him and certainly no reason to kill him. As for his business he was well liked by those he dealt with, including other gallery owners.”

“How long have you known Mr. Weber?”

“Gods, at least twelve years. We met when I was in college. He came by one of the art classes I was taking, looking he said for anyone with the potential to become more than just a hobbyist. He liked my work and offered to show a couple of pieces at his gallery. That was the beginning. He’s been like…” Merlyn sighed deeply, trying to keep his raw emotions under control. “He was like a second father to me.”