Cage leans forward. “Do you have any other questions, Detective? Because this is getting tiresome. My client did not kill Blythe Fairfax. Any alleged relationship between Mr. Sokolov and Mrs. Fairfax happened seven years ago, and they haven’t been in contact since.”
“That’s not necessarily true, is it?” The detective winks at me.
To her credit, Rosalie doesn’t move, although I can feel uncertainty from her. It’s interesting how in tune I am to her moods.
I sigh. “My first day out when I went to the Amethyst, Mrs. Fairfax came in.”
“What did she want?” Battlement asks.
I keep my tone level. “She wanted to know if we could rekindle our romance. Also, she asked if I killed her husband. I said no on both accounts.” I put an arm around Rosalie because I’m done with not touching her. It’s been too long since I have.
Battlement watches my movements. “I see. Any other times?”
“No,” I say. “I haven’t seen the woman since.” Which is the truth.
“Hmm,” he says, looking down at his notebook. “We do have her on camera at the Amethyst that day. Do you think Miss Mooncrest would kill for you?”
“I hope I never have to find out,” I say honestly.
The detective stares at my arm stretched around her shoulders. “When did you two start to date?”
“My client’s not answering any personal questions,” Joseph Cage interjects immediately.
Battlement dismisses him with a flick of his eyes. “Get out in front of this now, Rosalie. You seem like a decent person who got caught up in a world you don’t understand. Let me help you.”
She tilts her head. “You want to help me, Detective? How sweet.”
If she used that tone with me, I’d spank her ass. But right now, I love the sassy side of her. I don’t hide my smile. The detective flips open a file folder and pulls out a photograph to place on the table. It shows Rosalie’s damaged car from the other day.
“Apparently, Mrs. Fairfax beat up your vehicle, Rosalie,” Battlement says. “She had several pictures taken while she damaged your car. I find it odd that you didn’t notify the police about the vandalism. Perhaps you wanted to take care of matters yourself?”
“My client is not answering that question,” Cage says.
Good. I don’t like this at all.
Battlement pulls out another picture. This one is of a harshly beaten Blythe Fairfax, her face a bloody mess. “She kind of looks like your car.”
“This is not necessary.” Cage pushes it back.
“I think it is,” Detective Battlement says. “This is what you did. You may have been in a rage. You may be able to plead some sort of temporary insanity. I don’t know. But you do need to get out in front of this right now, Rosalie. Trust me.”
Warning ticks through me, and I don’t know why. The detective is holding something back.
Rosalie’s eyes widen as she stares at the picture. The murder was brutal. Blythe is beaten, and blood splatters across what looks like a white dress. She’s lying on a sidewalk. Broken.
I don’t care about her but wouldn’t wish a beating like that on any woman. The fact that somebody killed her to frame Rosie or me keeps me cold and centered. “Where did Blythe die?”
“I’m not answering your questions,” the detective says. “Rosalie, let me help you.”
“I didn’t kill Mrs. Fairfax,” Rosalie bursts out.
The detective sighs and pulls out another picture. “Do you recognize this paperweight?”
Holy fuck, I do. It’s the silver one of an apple that is usually on Rosalie’s desk.
Joseph Cage must recognize it as well because he slaps the table. “We’re finished with this interview, Detective. Either arrest my client or leave this house.”
The detective slowly tucks everything back into his file folder and pushes away from the table, standing. His partner does as well. “I’m not ready to make an arrest. Still have a couple avenues to pursue.” He looks deadly serious at Rosalie. “However, I’m going to do so very soon. I suggest you and your attorney come up with a good plan for you to voluntarily surrender at the police department.”
