2
FIONA
“What Monet?”I demanded, looking from Detective Goodwin to Detective Harrison in confusion.
“Don’t play dumb.” Goodwin leaned over the table, getting closer to me. He was obviously the bad cop in this scenario. “You stole a priceless Monet from the Windy City Gallery, and we want to know where it is.”
My mouth dropped open. “You’re out of your minds.” I glanced at the voice recorder, reminding myself not to say anything they could consider verbal assault. “I didn’t steal a Monet.”
Holy crap. What would I do with a Monet? I mean, I loved to study them, but it would hardly look at home on the wall of my small apartment. Not that I’d be able to display a stolen painting anywhere, and I had nowhere to hide one. I didn’t have any rented storage containers, just a closet with way too much already stuffed inside.
“Where were you last night?” Harrison asked.
“At home.” Even to my own ears, it sounded weak. “I leftwork at six, took the L home, and ate dinner while I watchedCupcake Contest.”
“Uh-huh.” Harrison’s expression was skeptical. “Was anyone with you?”
“No.”
“What about during the day?” Goodwin asked.
“I was at work.” I relaxed a little. At least that could be easily proved. “I didn’t leave the building, and we have good security camera coverage. I’m sure they’ll approve you reviewing the footage to confirm that I didn’t leave.”
“Hmph.” Harrison shifted forward, mimicking Goodwin’s position. Elbows on the table. Jaw set. Expression hard. “And before that?”
“I was at home, then got a coffee from Bean Bonanza and took the L to the office.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.” My teeth clenched. “Alone. Although I’m sure someone on the train would have seen me.”
“Hmm.”
I hated those stupid thinking noises. They were trying to unnerve me.
“So, you spent the night alone, took the subway to the office, spent the day there, returned home via the L and spent the evening alone?” Goodwin clarified.
“That’s right.” I felt like squirming but made myself be still. If I fidgeted, I’d look guilty, and I had nothing to hide. “Couldn’t you check my phone’s location history to show where I was? The GPS is enabled.” I knew Zeke, the arrogant and infuriating director of cybersecurity at King’s Security, would be able to have that data in minutes, so surely they could too.
Goodwin shrugged one shoulder. “All that proves is where your phone was, not where you were. You could have left it behind or loaned it to someone else.”
My chest tightened. He made a good point. People generally went everywhere with their phones, but someone who intended to commit a crime would probably make sure there was no means of electronically tracking them. If I was actually the mastermind behind the theft, I’d probably have arranged for someone to take my phone and my credit card and use them in a different area of town from where the crime was occurring, to give myself an alibi.
“When was the last time you were inside the Windy City Gallery?” Harrison asked.
I opened my mouth to answer but then closed it again and took a breath. “I won’t answer any more questions without my lawyer present.”
They gave me matching looks that said they thought asking for an attorney looked guilty as hell, but last time I hadn’t and I’d ended up spending a night in a holding cell because they’d still thought I was guilty anyway. I had no intention of letting that happen again.
Harrison pulled her phone out and checked the screen. “Looks like you’re about to get your wish.”
A moment later, the door flew open and Ariadne stormed into the room, a little over five feet and 90 pounds of furious Harvard-educated woman. She pulled out the chair beside me and sat, crossing her legs and glaring at the detectives.
“Have you been questioning my client?” she demanded.
“Only informally,” Goodwin replied. “She isn’t under arrest.”
Ariadne glanced at the voice recorder. “Looks official to me.”
