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tie. He introduced himself, “I’m Claud Vinkers, one of Mr. Lenzati’s and Mr. Werberg’s lawyers. It’s on the newscasts that Mr. Lenzati is dead.”
    “Did Mr. Werberg call you before he came down here?” Fenwick asked.
    “That, of course, is privileged information. My client is willing to cooperate in any way possible in solving this awful crime.”
    Turner suspected they’d have to wait for another time to probe into Werberg’s exact movements that morning. Cops generally hated lawyers showing up, and this was a prime example. Turner guessed Werberg knew more than he was admitting, but he doubted if they’d find anything out with the lawyer hanging around.
    Turner asked, “Do you know who Mr. Lenzati’s next of kin are, and how we might get hold of them?”
    Werberg said, “His parents live in a castle Mr. Lenzati bought for them in the south of France. I know them, and I called them before I left. They are making plane reservations and coming to this country as quickly as possible.”
    “We’ll need a list of his friends and acquaintances.”
    Werberg said, “I can put something together and get it to you tomorrow.”
    “Did he have a maid, a cook, or hired help of any kind?”
    “He had a cleaning service in two days a week,” Vinkers said. “He hired a cook for any special occasions.”
    “Who inherits all his money?” Turner asked.
    The lawyer said, “He had no direct descendants. The will is quite complex. His parents will be more than comfortably well off. The bulk of his estate goes to a number of charities or back into his current company. There are a few specific beneficiaries. I can get you a list. None of those last is over a hundred thousand dollars.”
    “How about Mr. Werberg here?” Fenwick asked. “Is he in the will?”
    “My client had no need for anything from Mr. Lenzati. He had nothing to gain from his death.”
    Turner said, “If the money goes back into the company, as co-owner he stands to gain a great deal.”
    “I did not kill him,” Werberg insisted.
    “How about any enemies?” Turner asked. “Do you know of any?”
    Vinkers said, “I’m not aware of any enemies. He was a great man with a successful business.”
    Werberg added, “Our dreams all came true. Why would he be dead?” He wiped more tears from his eyes.
    After Werberg composed himself, Turner said, “We’d like you to come down to the station to sign a statement.”
    “Now?” Werberg asked.
    “That would be best for us,” Turner said. He didn’t want to risk arresting the guy. They’d never get away with an accusation based on what they had so far. With any suspect, rich or poor, he didn’t want to try to get away with anything. He wanted solid forensic evidence tying a very good suspect to the crime.
    A beat cop led the lawyer and Werberg away.
    “How did you know he was the one who called?” Fenwick asked.
    “I didn’t, but it seemed logical. First, he was close to the victim. Second, to get someone to call the mayor and then the superintendent, and to get him to go outside channels means someone with lots of clout, which means bunches of money. Werberg has money. He shows up at the crime scene, a habit some killers have. He hadn’t shaved today. His shirt and tie were a mess. If he’s busy discovering a body, or upset about the body, would he have time to shave? None of that makes him a murderer, but taken together they add up to a bit more than an insight, but less than an arrest.”
    “Maybe he was up all night, or he never shaves on Fridays?”
    “I realize there’s all kind of possibilities, but why wouldn’t he be the one? It was worth a shot, and it got us information and frankly, I think a very good suspect.”
    “He should be watched,” Fenwick said. “Their company apparently benefits in a big way from Lenzati’s death. We’ll have to dig into the company’s finances.”
    Turner said, “There’s something odd about his movements this morning. There’s more