“Oh, no.” Genevieve laughed. “He’s the most appalling city boy. Arthur’s background is in financial management. Three years ago, he interviewed to be our treasurer. I suppose you could say it was a whirlwind office romance.” Her gaze turned distant. “It was very unexpected. We’re so very different. He’s absolutely terrible with animals—not that you need to interact with them much for the work we do. I only insist on being part of these videos because I love them so, but he refuses to come near them. Won’t even agree to me having a dog in the house.”

“Seems like an odd career path for someone like that,” Cooper noted.

“Oh, it wasn’t his career path at all. Like me, Arthur gave up his old life entirely after some soul-searching. He refers to it as his penance.” Genevieve laughed again, though Cooper wasn’t entirely sure why. He thought the whole thing sounded terribly grim.

“Your husband’s been spending time around animals here with you on set recently, hasn’t he?” Park asked. “Why’s that?”

Genevieve looked at him sharply, before seeming to remember the whole Park Foundation thing. Her expression softened. “As I said, I’m under a great deal of pressure at the moment. Arthur has been very supportive.”

“We heard he wanted to leave. That he was trying to persuade you to come with him and you argued,” Cooper pushed.

Genevieve frowned, shaking her head. “That’s simply untrue. It doesn’t even make sense. Why on earth would he want to leave right before the most important event of my career?”

“How would you describe Arthur’s relationship with James Finnigan?” Park asked.

“I told you, there wasn’t one. Arthur never interacted with that man and neither did I.”

“But you did say your husband spoke to Mr. Finnigan even less than you did,” Cooper said in a confused voice. “What did you mean by that if neither of you ever interacted with the victim?”

Genevieve pursed her lips. “I had a total of three conversations with James Finnigan. The first time he wanted to know about Wild Nature, the second time we talked about Toronto; I was living there when Arthur and I met, and Mr. Finnigan was thinking about moving soon. Said he was from up north originally and had a hankering for some familiar faces. The last time we spoke, the day before he died, all we did was talk about animals. We were shooting with the python. I was nervous, and James gave me some advice. That’s it. That’s all there was. But J.T., Arthur, none of you will believe me. Everyone demanding what did he say to you, what did he say to you? Like I’m not a grown adult woman who can speak to whomever I please without being chaperoned every goddamn sec—”