I peered at the photo. Gruesome didn’t even begin to describe the mess. It looked like someone caught Octavio by surprise in the entryway of his mansion. His body contorted in a massive pool of blood. His eyes were open as he stared up at the sky, probably not believing that something like this could happen to him, even when he faced down death. That was his way. Everyone else danced to his tune. Everyone else paid the piper. He never got caught in any of his schemes.
“Ex,” I cleared my throat.
“What’s that?” Detective Zwissler stared at me.
“He’s myex-husband,” I squinted at her. “Ex. He’s remarried. Someone else claims him as her husband. I assume willingly. Where was Echo during all of this?”
“Mrs. Cruz was having a spa day,” Detective Rosenthal answered. “She has a rock-solid alibi for the murder.”
“When did this happen?” Willard demanded.
“Yesterday,” Zwissler answered.
“Oh, well then, that narrows it down,” Willard’s sarcasm was strong today. “Sometime during the day - yesterday - someone caught Mr. Cruz off guard and stabbed the tar outta him? And you can claim without a doubt that it is not the current Mrs. Cruz?”
Both detectives looked at each other.
“And somehow,someway, you have some sort of damning evidence that points to my client as the murderer?” Willard continued. “I assume that’s why you have a warrant to search her house?”
Both detectives refused to meet my eye.
“Right. So, no physical evidence to tie my client to the murder of her ex-husband. The only thing you have to go on is the incident at the cooking school,” Willard scoffed.
“She tried to stab him!” Detective Zwissler’s voice went up a notch.
“Did she?” Willard tilted his head. “Miz Celia is a highly-trained federal agent. She knows three different types of martial arts and is a skilled knife thrower. If she wanted to throw a knife at her ex-husband and stab him, she would have done it, not landed the knife into the ground. Now, if there’s nothing else, my client is leaving. Her brother just got married, and there are Christmas festivities to get to.”
Willard stood up, shoved the file in his briefcase, and reached for my arm.
Detective Rosenthal scrambled to his feet and held out his business card. “Ms. Cruz, don’t leave town. You are still a person of interest in this case.”
I took his card. “A case you must have bupkis to go on if you’re looking at me. Just in case you were wondering, Octavio Cruz was a turd of the highest order. He had a scorched earth policy when it came to getting all that he wanted. If I had a grudge against him that led to murder, I would have done something years ago when he left me and my twin boys with nothing while he hid millions of dollars in offshore accounts. This is the type of crap Octavio did all the time. I doubt I was the first - or the last - one he did that to. You might want to take a closer look at that.”
“We are, Ms. Cruz,” Zwissler nodded. “He was creating big problems at work…”
She shut up with one look from Rosenthal.Interesting.Seems like Octavio made enemies everywhere.
“Keep in touch,” Rosenthal commanded. “We’ll be watching.”
And with that, Willard swept me out of the conference room.
“We’ll be watching.”
This wasn’t just crap on a cracker. This was a whole charcuterie board of crappiness. With a side of hot mess dip.
