Chapter Eight
Sam
I’ve never met this lady lawyer but if Slate thinks she’s good, I trust him. Ms. Pam Drucker leads me into a conference room and sweeps the room with a wand to make sure we’re not overheard. When she’s done, I explain the evening of the murder from the time I left home until I went to bed. Then, I tell her about the break-in.
The suited blond woman, about my age, leans back in her folding chair. “Let me get this straight. You were the one who said the drug dealer’s death was suspicious and they didn’t believe you?”
“Yes.” I think back to the grisly scene which has haunted my dreams while Pam studies my face.
“The police say they found the murder weapon in your apartment.”
“Whhaaat?” My mind races as I clench the edge of my seat. Dammit. “It had to be the guy who broke in last night.”
“The police cut a deal. He claimed he saw a gun.” Her calm tone does nothing to dispel my freak out.
“Of course he did. He planted it.”The bigger question is why.
“The fingerprints on it are yours.” Her brows lift and clear, well-manicured nails click on the metal table top.
This is bad, real bad.“Someone on the force is going after me or maybe even my dad. Why the hell would I want to shoot some random pot dealer?”
“They say they have more evidence but won’t tell me, not until you’re arraigned.”
“Of course they won’t. They need to invent it.”
The lawyer sticks her hands out, palms down, in a calming motion. “If you and your husband are having relationship issues, you need to let me know.”
“What? God, no. We’re tight. Why?”
“I just want to rule out the jealous wife defense.”
“Suds? Cheating? Never.” My heart pounds. If they planted a gun with my fingerprints, who knows what else they might do? I could be in real trouble, here.
The lawyer checks her phone and pales. “Andy just texted me. They have a video of you stealing evidence from a police cruiser.”
“That is pure horseshit. I was with Sebastian in the lobby. Then, he drove me home.” Where the hell is my dad?This is not at all like him. He always comes barreling into my business and straightens things out. The fact his team left him out of the loop scares me the most.
“Stay calm and think. Did anyone else see you?” My lawyer’s question serves to remind me how a husband’s testimony holds little or no weight with a jury. Of course, they’d think he was lying.
“It was late. I don’t think so.” I take a deep breath and relive the night of the fifteenth. If she asked me to recall the crime scene, I could recite every detail. After Suds arrived, not so much.
Pam frowns. “I have to let them question you. I assume you know the drill?”
“Yup. I’ll keep one eye on you at all times. Your job is to make sure what they’re asking me is legal. Also, you’ll stop me if I start to incriminate myself. I need to warn you, I’ve taken interrogation lessons from the best. The method is a bit unorthodox, but trust me, the police will reveal more than they want.”
“The famous Sutcliff ramble?” For the first time since meeting me, she smiles.
“I’m guessing you’ve heard of it?”
She laughs. “I did my Master’s thesis on it. Highly effective.”
“Huh. Maybe Suds should patent it.”
“Perhaps.” My lawyer stands, brushes the wrinkles out of her pinstriped suit, and puts her game face back on. “You’re sure there’s nothing else?”
When I shake my head no, she opens the door. A waiting cop walks us into a cement gray room with a flickering florescent lamp. As an added bonus, it buzzes loudly.
Cliché much?
