“Twenty-four years ago, business seminar in Scottsdale, bunch of Wall Street types offering the pathway to riches. Total bull, Ursula and I both realized it soon and bonded over skepticism. Once we learned about each other’s backgrounds and talents, we decided to explore starting a business. The other stuff came later.”

I said, “The personal stuff.”

Corey nodded. “We’re not Buffett but we built a great business. And yes, it got personal pretty soon. Like half a year in.”

He gazed out at the water.

Milo said, “What were your backgrounds?”

“I’d worked in garment wholesaling. My training’s in accounting.” His shoulders dropped. “Basically high-level bean-counting but no company I ever worked with wasn’t profitable. Ursula had a degree from the London School of Economics—she’s English, lived all around the world but mostly in Asia, her father was a military attaché in a bunch of different places. When I met her, she’d never run a business but she was creative and understood about the Asian submarket here in the U.S. We made a fantastic team.”

“What do you do?”

Corey’s face crumpled. “Without Ursula, I don’t know what’s going to happen … can we do anything?”

Milo waited.

Corey said, “What was the question?”

“Your business—”

“We import consumer goods, mostly from Vietnam and Thailand. Ursula handpicks everything, I’ve never been to Asia, Ursula’s been there probably fifty, sixty times, she’s the inside person, spots bargains that we then sell to retailers—who the fuck would do this to my girl!”

Emptying his glass of gin, he began to rise.

Milo stepped forward and blocked his way. “If you don’t mind, sir, we’d prefer to talk to you without any more alcohol in your system.”

Corey looked at him, chastened. “I’m able to maintain.”

“I’m sure you are, sir—”

“Fine. You’re doing your job, I don’t envy you.” Corey sank back. “What else do you want to know?”

“Please don’t be offended, sir, but I need to ask. Where were you between nine a.m. and noon today?”

“I was here doing paperwork.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“Did anyone—you’re kidding. No, I guess you’re not. Okay, I get it, I’ve seen those crime shows, the husband is always the first suspect, I get it, no offense. Unfortunately I don’t have any sort of alibi. Which I would have if I’d planned to do something criminal, right? I mean, the last thing I thought I’d need when I woke up this morning was an alibi. Like I said, Ursula called me around eight, I was already online, trying to work out snags with the shipping agent in Bangkok, and I stayed right here doing just that. Haven’t left the place in days, if you want to know. Okay?”

“Okay, sir. Thank you.”