Part 5 (1/2)
The best Cronan could hope for now-for purely selfish reasons-was that Ethan Chandler was a p.r.i.c.k.
Chapter 5.
Downtown Chicago Cronan drove across a few intersections to hit the right block of a one-way street as they searched for Ethan Chandler's residence. The lunch hour traffic had made the drive longer than Angel had expected. She'd called the cell phone number for the violinist, but when no one picked up, she decided against leaving a message.
”No answer. The guy's not big on phones.” She pocketed her cell as her partner parked down the street.
”A man I can understand,” he said as he got out of the Crown Vic.
It didn't take a detective to figure out where Ethan Chandler lived. Reporters and camera crews were camped in front of an exclusive residential building. Cronan shoved through the line, repeating ”no comment” as he dodged microphones. A doorman stood on the other side of the secured front entrance. After they showed ID, the man escorted them through the foyer and made introductions to the onsite property manager.
”I bet the residents really love all the media attention,” he whispered to Angel as they walked behind the doorman.
No doubt residents valued their privacy at an address that was so exclusive it only had a street number on the outside door. No fancy property name. But flas.h.i.+ng their badges had given them all the reason they'd need to pay a visit to Ethan Chandler. The property manager made the call to Chandler's suite and got permission to send them up.
Angel knocked on the door of the musician's residence, and a familiar face greeted them.
”You must have made a beeline here, Ms. Blevins,” Cronan said as he walked into the suite after Angel. ”Are you always this...hands on with your clients?”
”Ethan's special.” Rachel Blevins raised an eyebrow. ”With Olivia's murder hitting the news today, you can see the rabble out front. I didn't want him walking into those vultures before he'd heard the news. I thought it best that he hears about Olivia from a friend.”
”And just to clarify, that would be you?” Cronan said.
This time Angel noticed that the woman didn't bother to answer. She'd learned to dodge her partner's sarcasm.
”Please, follow me.” After she led them into a living room, the publicist asked them to wait and left the room. That gave them opportunity to snoop.
”Well, what do you know? Ethan Chandler's a simple guy like you, Gabe.” Angel walked around the room and checked out the minimalist decor.
”Yeah, this fiddle player and me, we're gonna be real tight. I can feel it.” Gabe smirked.
Ethan Chandler's home had been professionally decorated. A masculine design of blacks, grays, and silver tones with splashes of vivid color-colors a blind man would not be able to appreciate. The sleek furnis.h.i.+ngs were modern with clean designs that emphasized function. The typical clutter of everyday life was absent. Everything had its place. Simplicity must have appealed to the man who called this place home.
Natural light would have come in from the windows, but the shades had been drawn. The room would have been dark except for the dim glow coming from two lamp fixtures. Angel wondered if it mattered to Ethan if light ever came in the room. Did he only flip the switch for guests? Imagining him oblivious to the dark and living his entire life that way made her sad.
”Hey, check this out,” Gabe said. ”The guy has his own recording studio.”
A small gla.s.sed-in room had a high-tech control panel, musical instruments, and casual seating. A tasteful, blood red sofa caught Angel's eye. It had a distinctive shape that she liked. Very modern.
”He can record there, but he mainly uses it to practice whenever he feels like it.” The voice of Rachel Blevins interrupted them. ”He often uses it at night when he can't sleep. It's sound proof so the neighbors can't complain.”
Angel turned to see that the woman wasn't alone.
”Ethan? This is Detective Gabriel Cronan...” The publicist had Ethan Chandler on her arm. ”...and his partner, Detective Angelica Ramirez. They're working Olivia's case.”
The woman made the introductions with a somber voice befitting the purpose of their visit. Her tone and att.i.tude had been a complete departure from the flip way she'd talked about Olivia in her office earlier. No doubt she played it up for her client, pretending to feel his pain.
Dressed in navy slacks and a white s.h.i.+rt with rolled up sleeves, Ethan held out his hand in front of him and Gabe stepped over to shake it. Angel did the same.
”Thank you for coming,” Ethan said. ”Please, I want to help any way I can. I can't believe Livie is dead.” The skin on his face looked blotchy red, and his eyes were watery. It looked like he'd taken the news hard.
Angel realized G.o.d must have been a woman after she saw the violinist for the first time. Only a woman would know how to create such perfection in the opposite s.e.x. Ethan Chandler was the most beautiful man Angel had ever seen.
”You left messages for Olivia Davenport on the night she died,” she began. ”Tell me about your plans for the evening.”
”We had dinner reservations at Amandine's on Halsted Street for eight o'clock, but Livie...she never showed.” Ethan's lower lip trembled, and he visibly shook as he told them about his plans to meet Olivia and how she never answered his calls. When he was done, he said, ”Oh my, G.o.d. Was she already dead...when I called?”
Rachel Blevins touched his chest and stroked fingers down his arm. He accepted her gesture without flinching. Ethan might not have been surprised by the intimacy, but Angel was. Without the ability to communicate to a blind man with a sympathetic facial expression, perhaps the publicist had only meant to send a message of concern to him in the only way she could.
Or maybe the woman's touch carried another meaning.
”We're piecing together a timeline of her activities before she died. That's why we're here,” Angel said, avoiding an answer to his question. ”Did Olivia give you any reason to expect her to be late to the restaurant? Had she run errands or did she meet anyone beforehand?”
”No, not that I know of. She'd never been very punctual, but to not show up... ” He wiped a hand over his face. ”She never told me anything about her plans for yesterday, but I could've been too distracted by rehearsals to ask.”
This time when Rachel touched his arm, Ethan clasped her hand in his, a show of affection that seemed natural between them.
”The news media is camped at the front entrance of the building, Ethan,” Rachel told him. ”They'll be looking for you. If you need to leave the building, call me, and we'll use the same plan as we've done before. We can get in and out of this building without prying eyes.”
”Great. A prisoner in my own home. Wonderful.” The violinist looked even more miserable.
”I took the liberty of letting Harrison know what happened,” the publicist said. ”He wants to see you later today.”
Ethan grimaced for a split second, enough to send Angel a clear message that something had triggered a reaction in him.
”Harrison? Who's that?” Angel asked.
Rachel looked at Ethan before she replied, ”Harrison Reeves. He's Ethan's agent.”
”Okay. I can see clueing an agent in on something of this nature, but you don't seem happy about that, Mr. Chandler. Why is that?”
Ethan shrugged. ”He's just a little...overbearing when it comes to...”
When he stopped, Rachel picked up the slack. ”His agent has a hard time drawing the line between the business and personal affairs of his clients, that's all. He has an overzealous nature when it comes to protecting Ethan's interests.”
”Reeves lives in Chicago?” Gabe asked.
”Yeah, he does. If you need his contact information, I'm sure Rachel can get that for you,” Ethan offered, and his publicist nodded.
Angel asked more questions and took notes. She focused on every word Ethan said. Watching him had become a total distraction. When she glanced at him, and he seemed to look back, she turned away until she remembered Ethan was blind. He wouldn't see her staring at him. Knowing that was liberating. She took advantage of the situation, something she never would have done with a sighted man.
Ethan was tall and had a lean muscular build. He wore his dark hair a little long, and it had a natural wave to it as if he'd finger combed it. His skin looked flawless, pale with an appealing blush to his cheeks. He had a boyish appearance at times, yet the haunted look in his dark eyes made him appear older than his years. Whenever he talked, she couldn't help but stare at his full lips.
”Can I get you a drink? I've got a stocked bar or I can brew coffee if you'd prefer.” Unlike Rachel Blevins, Ethan Chandler was a considerate host. After he didn't get any takers, he poured himself a Scotch, neat.