She cut herself off and exhaled, sweeping her hand through her hair, again. “I was very sorry to hear what happened, but as you can see I didn’t know him.”

There was a moment of silence, and Cooper was considering what she’d said about “J.T.” when Park asked, “What was the advice?”

Genevieve looked confused. “What?”

“What advice did he give you? About the python?”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Don’t run and you won’t be chased.”

Cooper raised an eyebrow. “Is that typical snake advice?”

“Well, perhaps phrased a bit oddly, but it’s what they always say, one way or another. No sudden movements. Don’t do anything that might make the animal think you’re prey. Which is precisely what I told Arthur he said.”

“And did Mr. Crane think that was strange?” Cooper asked.

“Did I think what was strange?” a voice said from down the dark hall, and Cooper jumped a little.

“Oh, goodness, you scared me,” Genevieve said, holding a hand to her chest as a man emerged from the shadows, but she seemed extremely relieved to see him, and for good reason. He’d completely interrupted their questioning.

The man was white with silvery gray hair pulled into a top knot, a trim beard and probably in his sixties or so—a good fifteen years older than Genevieve, but just as fit and nearly as good looking in his own way. He wore expensive, loose-fitting clothes, dark-tinted glasses that obscured his eyes and multiple leather bracelets with little charms. They tinkled as he sipped from a travel mug that smelled very strongly of a fruity tea. All in all, he looked precisely like the sort of person who had done some self-proclaimed soul-searching, and turned his back on a finance career for penance in conservation work.

“Arthur Crane,” he introduced himself a bit unnecessarily, shaking their hands briskly. “J.T. said some people here wanted to speak with me?”

Fucking Neil, Cooper thought. What, had he run directly to Arthur and sent him to interrupt their interview with Genevieve? For what purpose? “We’re investigating the murder of Mr. Finnigan and speaking to anyone who might have seen him in the time leading to his death.”

“Murder?” Arthur said, taking another sip of tea. “Are they sure? I’d heard it might be an accident.”

“This is a murder investigation,” Cooper said firmly.

“How awful,” Arthur murmured. “Anything I can do to help, of course.”

Cooper glanced at Park, who would normally step in at this point of an interview to balance it out, but Park said nothing. He was studying Arthur with a strange look on his face, quizzical and a little disturbed. As Cooper watched, he leaned toward Arthur, as if taking a closer look.

“Um,” Cooper said hastily. “Could you tell us the last time you spoke with Mr. Finnigan?”