Page 20 of No Merciful Corruption

“Why—”

Detective Carson cuts his partner off. “Didn’t he kick you out of his club?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” I reply smoothly. “Because if this is an interrogation, perhaps we should have it in a more formal setting. With my lawyer present.”

Detective Wilson shoots a look at his young partner that I can’t see. Detective Carson purses his lips and returns to window glaring.

“Miss Rosario, we’re simply trying to understand how all this…” he gestures vaguely. “Occurred.”

Because the chaos of that night was too much for all of us. And it didn’t occur to anyone that two injured parties and several dead bodies in Central Park would necessitate a cover-up.

Doña Ana enters the room and leaves a tray of pastries and coffee on the glass table between us.

“Detective?” I set down my own cup and motion for the coffee carafe.

“Black, please, thank you,” he says.

“Detective Carson?”

“No thank you.” He answers gruffly.

I extend the cup and saucer to Detective Wilson.

“I’m not sure what else to tell you, Detectives. Li lured me into the park under false pretenses, pulled a gun on me, and we fought. Clearly.” I motion to the injury on my right side, whose surgical incision has since healed. “And now he’s dead. There isn’t much more to the story.”

“The story in which four other bodies are found within a quarter mile radius of Bow Bridge and his associate, Rian O’Neil, is also injured in the process?” Detective Carson questions. “Not to mention the fact that your friends all just so happened to be in the area.”

“I was lucky.”

“With friends like Damiano Vellucci and Alejandro Narvaez, I wouldn’t consider myself lucky,” he fires back. A stretch of silence passes. “Where were you on the evening of January 15th?”

“Home.”

“And in the early hours of January 16th?”

“Bleeding out on Bow Bridge.” I deadpan.

“So you go missing for several hours and no one notices? Not your roommate or your housemaid?” He glances at Doña Ana. “Did you find it suspicious when Miss Rosario left without informing anyone and couldn’t be reached for several hours?”

She opens her mouth to respond but I cut her off. “Unfortunately, Doña Ana cannot be interviewed.”

“And why is that?”

Before I can respond, Detective Wilson interjects. “There’s no need for her to be afraid. We aren’t with immigration.”

I feel Doña Ana’s eyes on me but I’m focused on the man sitting across from us. The one who doesn’t know that if not for the fact that I’m still recovering, he’d be on the floor with my hands around his neck and two serving spoons sticking out of his eye sockets.

At this point, my cheeks ache from how painful the smile on my lips is. “What a funny thing to say.”

Detective Wilson’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Thinly veiled threats are in poor taste.” My voice hardens. “Doña Ana is not here illegally, in fact, the only illegal thing in this room is the interrogation you’re conducting without my lawyer present. Get out.”

He clears his throat and rushes to set down his cup. “I apologize if⁠—”

“Apology not accepted and next time, don’t show up at my doorstep unannounced. Doña Ana’s English is limited and I don’t like it when she has to attend to people alone.”

“Eso no es ningún problema. Traduzco para Doña Ana con mucho gusto.”