“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt you?” Michael asked. “Or kill you?”
“Not that I know of.” Spyros glowered at him. “It was just someone taking advantage of the snow. He didn’t win.”
“From the look of it, I beg to differ.” Michael began to pace. “I bet this is related to Radhika’s murder.”
Spyros sighed.
“Always a cop, aren’t you?”
“I have to think of the possibility, Spyros.”
“I never saw anything, so how could I be in danger?”
“You must’ve heard something, then.” Michael shot back. “You were on the phone. The killer must’ve seen your name on the caller ID and got spooked.”
Spyros snorted, reaching for a bottle of beer. He took a huge gulp.
“As if I didn’t have enough to worry about,” he grumbled.
Michael knew this was something they needed to carry on at the station. He spied a T-shirt on top of a pile of clean laundry on the armchair and snatched it up, tossing it at Spyros.
“Get dressed. You’re going to need to come into the station.”