“Today he asked for identification, frowned as he scrutinized it, then picked up the phone.Not a good sign. He’d been gone less than a week.Venturi stepped off the elevator. Archbold was waiting, in shirtsleeves, his tie loosened.The office appeared to be in crisis mode. Clearly agitated prosecutors who had used Salvi to win convictions or were prepared to have him testify in the upcoming Schoenberg trial huddled in a glass-walled conference room. “How the hell could this happen?” one loudly dem...anded, apoplectic and red-faced.Another muttered something Venturi didn’t hear and they all turned to stare at him.April Howard did not even look up from her desk when he greeted her. Ruth Ann watched from her cubicle, her brow furrowed in an expression of concern.“This way. Let’s go.” Like a cop, Archbold steered Venturi away from his own desk toward the chief’s office.“What the hell’s going on?” Venturi asked. “Who died?”“You tell us,” Archbold said.The chief slammed down his phone when he saw them.“What do you know about Flemington?”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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