“Where to next?” Tossing the parking ticket in the glove compartment, Dash puts his foot on the brake, and waits for my reply.
Phone in hand, I enunciate clearly, for both him and the map lady. “Police precinct, Jersey City.”
Behind the wheel, my chauffeur turns his head and glares. “I hope to God you called my lawyer.”
“No, but don’t worry. I have a guy.” Flicking my fingers, I wave away his concerns, and smile. “Let’s move it or we’ll be late. I’ve got it covered. Really.”
After backing up and going forward repeatedly, he extradites the SUV from the miniature parking space. Jaw muscles twitch, his hands grip the wheel, yet he says nothing until we pause in a long line of traffic headed for the tunnel.
Turning slowly, he hisses out his breath. “Why didn’t you ask Darcy to come? I have her on retainer.”
If I’m ever going to move on with my life, I need to stop accepting charity. I’m sure he won’t understand so I don’t bother to explain. “Jonathan has access to every law book in the world. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you fucking nuts? They’re not going to let a robot represent you.” A bus cuts him off but I suspect the string of foul language is meant for me.
“I’ll bet you a million bucks there’s no rules stating he can’t and if they don’t allow it, I won’t say a thing.”
“Please, let me phone Mrs. Liu. The cops could badger you for hours, deprive you of sleep, and should you utter one wrong word, condemn you for life.”
“Okay, but I’m still bringing Jonathan along, too.”
“Thank fuck. I’m ringing her now. You call the precinct and tell them we’re stuck in traffic.” He speaks into the Bluetooth for a moment, then arranges for her to be flown to a helipad nearby. At the rate we’re moving, she’ll arrive long before we exit the tunnel.
A couple hours later, I’m sitting in one of three folding chairs in a claustrophobic, cinderblock room. Jonathan rests on the table in front of me, and Darcy Liu is parked to my right. It took some convincing, but eventually everyone agreed the robot could listen in.
When a Detective Pollack enters the room, we stand, shake hands, and introduce ourselves.
“Is that thing recording us?” The officer grimaces, Jonathan mirrors it exactly, and I can’t help but snicker.
“He might. Is that a problem?” Darcy’s brows raise.
“No, I just wanted to know.” The fortyish man softens his expression, places his elbows on the wood, and leans in my direction. “Where were you last Saturday?”
“Can you be more specific? It was a busy day.” Not wanting to spend the night in jail, I glance at my lawyer.
As she nods her approval, the gray-speckled buzzcut man checks his notes. “Let’s say, around four in the afternoon.”
“I was at the heliport.”I’m sure he’s been told, so why ask?
“Did you speak to anyone?” His breath reeks of tobacco and stale coffee which churns my already upset stomach. Maybe it’s part of the torture Dash mentioned.
“Yes, I conversed with a man wearing an NTSB jacket.” Needing more space, I sit up straight and scoot back an inch to the wall. Then, I open my purse and offer him my peppermint lifesavers.
“Thanks.” Taking one, he crunches on it, and hands back the rest. “What did you talk about?”
Darcy’s warning comes to mind. Cooperate but say no more than necessary. “I asked him about the black box.”
Actually, I asked why he stole it, but close enough.My chin juts out and as the half-bartender’s face morphs to match mine, I relax my jaw.
The detective is simply doing his job. “Why did the NTSB employee hit you?”
“You’d have to ask him.” Insert fluttering lashes here. As I put learning the skill on my mental to-do list, he snaps back.
“I can’t. He’s dead.”
It’s about time he admitted it.“That’s unfortunate.”
“Did you kill Keller?”
