“I’ve been awake for two days,” Roger said. “I’ve got to get these final pieces ready to be modeled tonight. I don’t have time for your holier-than-thou attitude, detective.”

“Everett Larkin, Cold Cases.”

“I don’t care.”

“Mr. Hunt,” Doyle quickly interjected. “What is it exactly that you do for a living?”

“I’m an entrepreneur. A designer. An artist.”

“Hm-hm.” Doyle made a point of staring at Roger’s stained hands.

Roger rolled his eyes, and Larkin could see where Brian’s habit must have originated from. “For God’s sake. A moron would belittle my talents with the overly simplistic label of goldsmith.” He held up his hands and added, “It’s polish.”

“Have you worked with iron?” Doyle continued.

“That’s blacksmithing,” Brian spoke up.

“Brian, please,” Roger said, but his tone was placating. To Doyle, he said, “Yes, of course. I’ve worked with all kinds of materials, although I’ve favored gold these past few years. Did you honestly come all the way out here to inquire about the ethics of using gold in jewelry or the sustainability of my designs? Again, I don’t have time for this. You know where the door is.”

“We’re here to speak with you about Andrew Gorman,” Larkin said.

Roger had already turned toward the stairs but then stopped. He looked over his shoulder, his brow creased in apparent befuddlement before the lightbulb went off. “Andrew… oh, Andy? I haven’t spoken to him in twenty years.”

“Twenty-two,” Larkin corrected.

Roger shrugged. “What difference does it make? Is he in some sort of trouble?”

Larkin watched Roger’s face carefully as he stated, without any kind of emotional inflection, “Andrew Gorman is dead.”

Roger’s eyebrows rose and his jaw slackened slightly, an indicator of sincere surprise at the news and not a feigned expression, but what followed was nothing. Roger’s face was blank of emotion. There was no anger, no fear, no disgust—nothing that would have indicated to Larkin that this man had something to hide regarding Andrew’s murder. And Larkin was… not expecting that. Of course, a common trait shared among those with psychopathic and sociopathic behavior was the inability to feel empathy. And given the methodical planning that went into all of the murders, Larkin was certain they were looking at psychopathic tendencies, which included the ability to pretend, as well as maintain functioning “normal lives” in order to hide dangerous inclinations.

So either Roger truly didn’t care about Andrew’s death, or he was pretending not to care. Either way, Larkin didn’t like it.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Roger said in a detached, WASP-y tone.

“He died in 1998,” Larkin added. Now he had Roger’s attention. “In fact, he disappeared on March 28, 1998, after telling his roommate he was going to visit you.”