Famous (The Soul of the World Book 1) by David Skato (best e books to read .TXT) 📕

beautiful marble floor followed them as they walked down the lavender-scented hallway. With the striking look and feel of this place, you knew immediately that this was the work of privilege.

The detectives noticed a vacant reception-like desk with a steaming coffee cup sitting on a treebark coaster. Dontae’s eye catches an unusual painting at the end of the hall. The image is of a man in what appears to be a donkey costume with one hand over his face and another holding what looks to be weird glasses. Something is very off-putting about the grin of the man. It’s almost as if you can hear the evil laugh-cry of the man whose small brown teeth and large gums made Dontae’s skin crawl.

“Laughing fool,” a voice from the back startles them both.

They turn to see a woman who looked almost identical to the receptionist downstairs; Long blonde hair that draped just below her shoulder blades. Her long legs, flawless, clearly visible because the mini skirt stopped way short of her knees. Her blouse, which didn’t look safe for work, was only buttoned just above her rib cage, showing entirely too much cleavage.

Jessi, still a bit shook, “wha-, what?”

The woman steps closer to the painting and between the two. “This painting is called the laughing fool by Jacob Cornelisz van Oostsanen.”

Jessi whispers before she’s able to stop herself, “The shit ain’t funny.”

Dontae’ interjects before the woman can respond, “We’re here to see Roland Walsh.”

“You can find him in his office down the hall to the right,” She points.

They head in the indicated direction.

“She like to got her ass whooped,” Jessi states, now filled with bravado.

“She looks like she can take you,” Dontae’ joked.

“I'll be damned. I can go about three rounds with Mayweather, shit,” She states with a little air swing.

“How tall are you again?”

“Tall enough,” She shoots back.

They finally reach a door that reads "Roland Walsh C.E.O." Dontae' knocks

“Come in,” A voice that could be British, but it was hard to tell, yelled from the other side of the door.

Dontae pushes the door open to see a mid-height brash looking man in a William Westmancott suit. The man’s salt and pepper hair glowed as the sunlight from the large window hit it from the side. His thin lips and perfect nose hinted that in another life, he could be a politician. Behind him and his large black desk, a large wall held huge, old, and strange paintings. Roland Walsh greets the detectives with a slight smile. If “made of money” had a look, he would be it. Some men you can tell what they are thinking, and then some you can only imagine. Roland was the latter. He was the kind of breed of successful men that didn’t talk unless he had something to say and didn’t answer if he deemed your question irrelevant.

He stands while buttoning his jacket and suggesting the two sit opposite his desk. “Please have a seat.”

They comply as he does the same.

“What can I do for Atlanta’s finest?”

“I’m Detective Wade; this is my partner Detective Mason.”

Jessi interrupts, “You can start by telling us where you were last night?”

Dontae’ cuts his eyes at Jessi while unaware that he is straightening papers on Roland's desk.

Roland explains. “I was home with my wife. We stayed in because she wasn’t feeling well.”

“You have some pretty amazing artwork,” Dontae’ states as he notices the same type of writing on Roland's pictures as on the paper from the scene. Not only did it resemble the letter, the writing on the painting behind his desk had the exact characters.

Roland turns in his chair and looks at the paintings. “They are of a special collection. Not many people can afford these pieces.”

“Really? Did Rochelle enjoy looking at them?” Dontae’ suggests.

“It’s a shame what happened. We have no affiliation with her, and I honestly don’t know why she would visit our place of business.”

“Really? This says differently.” He takes his phone from his pocket and hands it to Roland, showing the image of the note.  “This was taken from the scene this morning. Looks like a perfect match.”

Roland looks at it for a second and hands it back to Dontae.

“So what does it say?” Dontae’ asks while tilting his head towards the writing on the painting.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Roland said, now a bit agitated.

Dontae’ counters. “We know that someone who works in the building let her in.”

“Perceivably. But people tend to make mistakes. Especially when it comes to celebrities.” Roland states as he looks at Jessi with a look that gave her chills up and down her spine.

“Adonis Sterling,” Dontae’ spews.

The name seems to bother Roland even though he tried to keep a straight face. Donate’ knows this by many years of what he would consider “soft” interrogations. By his definition, this was when you surprisingly give suspects bits of shocking information they didn’t know you had, causing them to panic.

“Why does Adonis Sterling have a badge to your building but is not listed as an employee? “Dontae’ continued. The questions seem to make Roland uncomfortable, and now he was all but squirming in his seat. His mentality, as well as his voice, shifted from light and pleasant to arrogant and reckless.

“I assure you, detectives, that I don’t know anything about what happened, and of course, I can’t personally keep track of who comes and goes as we have thousands of employees. However, I will have my attorney draft a statement on my behalf, and any further questions would have to go through him. If that’s all detectives, I have a very busy schedule.”

Roland stands, signifying that it’s time to go. He trails them to the door, where he leads them out.

Dontae’ stops in the threshold of the door right before Roland could close it. “By the way, I know she didn’t jump. I will find out who killed her.”

Roland, now agitated, raises his head to say, “Really?” and immediately closes the door on the two without uttering another word.

Jessi and