My advocate notices it too. “You want me to ask for another room.”
“No. This is perfect.” I grin. Payback is going to be a serious bitch tonight.
My interrogator eases his large frame into a chair opposite me. I’ve spoken with him once or twice but not long enough to form an opinion.
With Pam eyeing him across the table, he clears his throat and presses a button. “Detective O’Shay case sixty-five-fifteen, interrogating Samantha Russo, Wednesday, August seventeenth, twenty-”
“Russo was my maiden name. My last name is Sutcliff, Mrs. Sebastian Sutcliff.”
His slipup is the first of many, or so I hope. No doubt he’s thinking of my dad and he should be worried. My father would face down a roomful of union lawyers to defend me.
“Right.” The dark-haired man clears his throat, starts over, and leans forward with elbows on the table. “How about you tell me what you were doing at Twelve Columbus Place on the night of the fifteenth.”
I keep my face blank but inside I’m grinning like a fool because his open-ended question allows me the perfect opportunity to warm up. “It’s quite simple. You see, my husband and I own a private investigation agency. Together, we’re Suds and Sam. We have an office in Bensonhurst across from the D train. I’m sure you’ve heard of us. We solved the Manhattan Strangler case during quarantine?”
When his crooked nose bounces up and down, I take a deep breath and channel my inner-rambler. Talking without saying much is a lot harder than you might think.
I go back in time as far as I dare. “We also cracked the mystery of the missing weeping Mary and how Sienna’s bass player was killed on stage.”
He starts to open his mouth so I shoot forth a palm and give him a big smile. “Sure, sure. You know who we are but you did ask what I was doing in Bed Sty. I’m just trying to create context, not only for you, but for a jury who may watch this video and not fully understand.”
My lawyer tilts her head, my green light to move ahead. “So, after the case of the strangler, where I nearly got killed, I made a deal with my husband. I promised to let him vet all my cases. I think him calling me a danger magnet was a bit over the top, wouldn’t you agree?”
O’Shay nods, his eyes sharp, but the night is still young.
“For the sake of marital harmony, which is very important to me, I agreed. Where was I? Oh yeah. I said I would only take on divorce cases. Oh my God, they can be so depressing but they pay well and there’s been an abundance of people wanting them because of the pandemic. I guess being locked up as a couple can be tough and I am speaking from experience. Suds and I had our moments but there were times he would look at me with those big brown eyes and-”
“It won’t work.” The man on the other side of the table narrows his gaze, mouth grim.
“Excuse me?”Dammit, I was on a roll.
“The rambling. Instruct your client to stay on topic.” His command is directed toward Pam who keeps a straight face but her eyes show she is clearly amused.
“Ms. Sutcliff. Please answer the detective’s question.”
“I was attempting to. He asked what I was doing in Bed Sty, right?”
They both mummer an affirmative.
“Well then, let me explain. Last Sunday, I got a brand new lens, a Fujazi Super-X50. Holy shit. I can zoom into a flea on a rat’s ass. Coupled with my night vision camera, I can make a fortune. You can imagine how pissed I was when someone tried to steal it last night? Did you know someone broke into our apartment?”
“Yes.” But the detective’s eyes flicker, a clear sign he’s lying.
How could he be in charge of this investigation and not know about last night? What the fuck is going on? Intent on retrieving more data, I forget I no longer work for the FBI.
“Maybe, you should find out why someone planted evidence in my apartment? Are you involved in this too, or are they playing you for a patsy? Maybe they want you gone. Since all the riots, the Mayor is cutting funds. Think you’ll be next?”
“I’ll look into your allegations, Ms. Russo.” His jaw twitches and the tips of his ears turn red as my barbs hit home.
“It’s Mrs. Sutcliff.”Fucking idiot.
“Right. Go on with your story.”
Hell hath no fury like a woman accused of murder.After about two more hours of me doing my best work, he sighs deeply, and leaves the room. Unfortunately, the next guy and the next, reveal nothing more and neither do I. Around midnight, yawning, we all give up, and I’m not even close to breaking Suds’ rambling record.
