During this time, André has served himself coffee twice, and I’ve had them bring me coconut milk to addto mine before continuing. There haven’t been any breaks. The police officers seem tired; who knows how long they’ve been working on the case? Fuck it. I’ve been locked up all night, and they haven’t even offered me a croissant! I almost welcome the interruption.
The moment doesn’t linger. When they come back, their expressions reveal something’s wrong. André catches on as well, his eyebrows lifting in silent question.
“I’m the department head. My name is Mariah,” introduces the woman who had entered the room earlier. Her hair is gathered into long dreadlocks that form a high bun. One of them falls over her forehead as she leans over the table, taking the seat that Officer Alonso had occupied until now. He hangs back and crosses his arms, knowing his place in the hierarchy.
André positions himself next to me, as if he were my protector.
“Is something wrong?” André asks, his voice cutting through the tension without dodging the obvious question.
I can almost hear his unspoken plea: Please, don’t say anything. Department head Mariah steps forward, holding out a paper, a transcript. Her eyes lock onto mine as she begins to speak.
“We’ve just taken this statement. It took me a few minutes to realise this, but… what you said earlier. About the relationship between Julian Garros and Antonia Hawtrey-Moore. Your involvement in all this. It caught my attention.”
“Why?” I ask, holding her gaze.
I can’t let her sense my fear. Not now.
“You claim not to know why you got involved in all this. Why did they give you the money? Do you know that lyingin a police statement is a crime, Vera?”
My heart feels like it’s about to stop. I glance at my boss, who is absorbed in the document, then shift my focus back to Mariah. This is what I’ve been dreading all night, waiting for it to happen, yet, at the same time, wishing to a star for it to go unnoticed.
She gestures for me to read the file.
“Then, why did you do it?”
Excerpt from Enzo Woods’s Testimony
Taken on Monday, November 2
AM: Mr Dubois, please help us better understand what happened tonight, okay?
EW: I’ve already told you everything I know about my sister and my father.
AM: I see. But it seemed like there were more people than usual in the house tonight… We noticed that Vera Rodríguez Malin was there. What can you tell me about her? Is she your partner?
EW: No, Vera and I… We’re nothing. We’ve only known each other for a short time.
AM: Tell me how you met.
EW: I met Vera in class. I didn’t attend much, to be honest. I didn’t need to. Besides, I got along very well with everyone. I had no problem covering absences or getting notes. The truth is, I only enrolled in the program to get my mother off my back. It’s not like we had a close relationship… but she seemed to think that if I didn’t study, it would end up costing the family a fortune. Like one of those rich kids gone bad, who do nothing but spend their parents’ money and live as if there was no tomorrow. If mom had known me a bit… Well, I’m not like that. I never have been. I never wanted to be just—pause— you know, Laurent Dubois and Antonia Hawtrey-Moore’s son. Eloïse’s brother. I wanted to get away from all that. Mom didn’t know I had already succeeded. I created my own identity. Enzo Woods, a nobody. No one questions why a street kid would work with Julian Garros.
But, back to your question. Vera. We met in class, that’s true. I paid attention to all the girls in the class with me. Call me a jerk if you want; it was the easiest way to pass without lifting a finger. Everything was handed to me on a plate. It was impossible not to notice her. She’s, without exaggeration, the most beautiful girl in the class. Hell, in the entire university. She ignored me. I didn’t bother to chase her or try to get her attention. She was beautiful and smart. And I didn’t matter to her. Well, there were more beautiful and smart girls in the class. I know a lost cause when I see one; I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. We developed a friendship, nothing more. I won’t say I didn’t like her back then. I liked her a lot. I thought I’d settle for a friendship. I’ve explained my reasons.
AM: Please continue.
EW: Yes, sorry. Let’s see… I kept thinking that until that day.
AM: The day Vera Rodríguez hired Julian Garros’s services?
EW: Yes, that day. At that point, his name wasn’t well-known. It wasn’t until the police investigation started that anyoneknew who The Counterfeiter was… No one…
(The witness stops speaking. He takes a sip of water, and Officer Morrison encourages him to continue.)
AW: If you provide useful information, it will be taken into account when you’re charged with the corresponding offences, Mr Woods. It’s too late to back out now. I remind you that a few months ago, you testified as part of Julian Garros’s inner circle and claimed to know nothing about it. Another slip-up like that, and I’m afraid we won’t be able to help you. Help yourself, Mr Woods. Tell us the truth.
EW: I know. Alright… No one knew that The Counterfeiter wasn’t just one person, but a group. We were three childhood friends. Julian was the best of the three of us. It started as a game, a pastime. I… I’ve always liked that sort of thing. We started out with trivial things. Excursion passes, our parents’ signatures; then it got more serious. Fines for reckless driving, checks. We could get rid of anything for our benefit. We could create something from nothing. When I left my parents’ house, it seemed like the most obvious choice. To turn our pastime into a business. It was Julian’s idea, if I remember correctly. In no time, we became an elite group. What started as an easy way to make money turned into a draw for several big fish. But I’m digressing. When Vera hired our services, we hadn’t reached that level yet. We had made a name for ourselves in the university setting, and not much more. We had just started, forging grades, final papers, scholarship sums, entire diplomas. I was very surprised when I got her call. Of course, when she contacted The Counterfeiter, Vera didn’t know she was speaking to me. Julian and our other partner were swamped, so it fell to me to handle Vera Rodríguez’s file. It turned out she hadn’t gotten the necessary credits to apply for the Chance program scholarship. I didn’t tell my partners anything. I knew Vera, or so I thought. But I couldn’t understand how she went from getting the best grades in the first year to failing half the subjects in the second. So no, Vera never got the grades needed for the program that gave her access to Saidi. Her file is fake. I got my cut, and she never knew I was the one who made it possible.
AM: Tell me more about your relationship with Garros. I understand you let Julian claim full responsibility and assume the identity of The Counterfeiter.
