“We tried that, over a dozen times,” Maggie said flatly. “You didn’t respond to any of our calls, and that’s why we’re here. As my colleague said, Mrs. Cricket asked us to look into the attempted murder of her husband. In other words, she wants to know what happened, and for some reason she thinks you are avoiding her, the police, and even us. Is that true, Mr. Meadows? By the way, excuse my atrocious manners. I’m Maggie Spritzer and this is Ted Robinson and Dennis West. We’re investigative journalists for the Post in Washington, DC. We just happened to be here when Mr. Cricket was shot. And this gentleman is Jack Emery, a former federal prosecutor and now a private attorney. Last but not least, this is Cyrus. We never go anywhere without him. He’s a valued member of our team.” Cyrus woofed softly to thank Maggie for his introduction.

“Your turn, Mr. Meadows,” Dennis said, stepping forward. “Well, blow me away and let me land on my feet. Would you look at that!”

Everyone in the room said, “What?” at the same time.

“Mr. Meadows is a connoisseur of fine tobacco. Very, very fine tobacco. Those are Davidoff Oro Blanco cigars. They come in their own wooden box. Ten cigars to a box, and the box costs five thousand dollars. Each cigar, individually boxed, is worth five hundred. We did an article on tobacco a while back, so I know what those cost,” Dennis chirped.

“I keep them on hand for the high rollers who come through here from time to time,” Meadows explained. His tone was defensive.

“Uh-huh,” was all Dennis said.

“Can we get on with this? I have to leave in a few minutes to attend a licensing meeting.” Meadows shot his monogrammed cuffs to look at his watch, which made Ted’s eyes almost bug out of his head at the sight of the Patek Philippe Swiss watch set in eighteen-karat gold with a perpetual calendar and sporting a genuine crocodile strap. If there was one thing Ted knew about in detail, it was watches. He’d been obsessed with them since he was a little kid and learning to tell time. He blinked, then blinked again, because he knew that the price tag on the bauble was $130,000.

Meadows got up from a chair that looked as if it would lull you to sleep the minute you sat down, and he came around to the front of the desk. Maggie looked down to see the distinctive boat-shaped Bettanin & Venturi loafers that were handmade in Italy for a thousand dollars a pop. She immediately calculated the cost of the apparel Zack Meadows was attired in and came up with the number $8,000. She felt as if she should let loose with a whistle but kept her cool. Serious money, for sure. They definitely needed Abner to look into this man’s finances.