Deathtrap by Dana Marton

about you?”
    Irritation flared in the man’s eyes. “I’m not. What does that have to do with anything?”
    Bing watched him closely. “I meant, did you have a personal relationship with Kristine Haynes?”
    The man lifted out of his seat with outrage. “You have no right. You cannot throw accusations like that around here!”
    Bing raised a hand, palm out, in a placating gesture. “I wasn’t making an accusation. I was asking a question.”
    “Absolutely not. I do not have,” he emphasized the words, “and have never had a personal relationship with any of my employees.”
    Bing asked a few more questions, then let the man go when he was beginning to look like his head might explode. And it went another shade redder when Bing reminded him to send in those four men he’d pointed out to him.
    Bing leaned back in his chair as he got ready for them, but the first batch netted nothing. The first man to come in was obviously gay, and got crossed off the suspect list for now. The next had been at the company’s German office for the past two weeks, as rock solid an alibi as they came.
    The junior accountant, Milo, who came next was just out of college. He’d been an intern in the department, hired when his internship ended. He was in his midtwenties. Maria had talked about a man in his thirties or forties, a little older.
    Then again, Maria had only seen the guy from the back. She could have seen a nice suit and made the call about the age subconsciously.
    Milo kept scratching his nails, constantly shifting in his seat, nervous to be interviewed by the police. Not hiding-something nervous, more like easily intimidated nervous. Bing didn’t peg him for a cold-blooded killer, but neither could he completely cross him off the list.
    The next blond guy walking into the office had more potential. He was the right age and height, clean-cut. The type women would find attractive.
    He started with, “Larry Wilde. I have no time for this.” He wouldn’t even sit.
    “We’ll keep it as quick as possible,” Bing promised, and instead of beating around the bush, he went straight to what he wanted to know. “Did you have an affair with Kristine Haynes?”
    The man shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was in the middle of a phone conference. I don’t understand why this can’t wait.”
    “We can always chat at the station.”
    He rolled his eyes. “We didn’t have an affair.”
    “Would you mind telling me where you were last Monday?”
    He didn’t think long. “At work.”
    “All day?”
    He thought for a second. “I came in early for a conference call. Germany is five hours ahead of us. I left at seven, our time. I always do, to avoid rush-hour traffic. Went straight home. Ate dinner with the wife and kids. Stayed home. That’s about it.”
    “Did you go out for lunch?”
    “Had a team meeting. Every Monday, actually. Lunch is provided in the conference room.”
    “Was Kristine on this team?”
    “She was, but she didn’t come in that morning.” He paused as he caught himself. “Is that when she was killed?”
    Bing nodded. “Any other team members missed the meeting?”
    The man thought for a second before shaking his head. “Just Kristine.”
    Bing asked a few more questions, then wrote down the guy’s contact information. He’d have Joe and Mike check all the alibis.
    The next man to walk into the office introduced himself as Karl Kerrick—the geeky type, meticulously tied tie, wire-rim glasses. All he was missing was a pocket protector.
    “We weren’t actually friends. But we did work on the same team for the last couple of projects,” he said when asked about his relationship with the victim. He appeared the most shaken, so far, a grim look in his eyes as he answered questions.
    “Could you tell me where you were last Monday?”
    He didn’t have to think about it. “Here.”
    “All day?”
    “Most of the day. I had some meetings off site, I think.”
    “I’m going to need a list with