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“Take us in the back entrance of the police station. I have a feeling there’s going to be press crawling all over the place.”
I’d been right, which had prompted me to contact my soldiers at the condo, also ordering at least three more to head toward the building. The police had no clue what they’d done by allowing it to slip that I was to be questioned. That had given a carte blanche invitation to the goons trying to destroy my world.
Sante narrowly avoided hitting one of the press members, racing around to the other side of the building. He’d been through shit like this before, easily able to shove aside the three tenacious reporters who’d raced after the speeding car.
As we strode into the station, almost everyone we passed stopped what they were doing to watch the great entrepreneur being questioned for a heinous crime. I was honestly surprised they hadn’t managed to add a murder rap onto the charges. Why did I have a feeling that would come?
I was still angry about Brandon, using the festering anger to fuel my attempt at remaining impassive. As we were led to an interrogation room, Sante stopped the officer who’d been assigned the duty. The guy wore a smirk on his face that wasdifficult not to wipe off with my fist. He, along with the other officers who remained in the building, was amused as hell, likely taking bets on the timing of my incarceration.
“Do not make us wait for long. We’re both important and busy men,” Sante directed.
“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”
When the door was closed, Sante shook his head. “Why would Alturo do this? What is the point?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
“Well, I hope like hell you can. Someone is going to face this charge, Francois. I hate to tell you that, but you need to know so you can prepare for what is determined.”
I walked closer, offering a smile. Of course I knew we were being monitored through the two-way glass. If the police thought they were being clever, they were fools. “Then work your magic and ensure I stay out of jail.”
“You must think I’m a miracle worker.”
“Actually, I do.”
I took a deep breath, backing against the blank wall to wait.
Thirty minutes passed. Then an hour. I was at the end of my patience, which was exactly what the detectives wanted to have happen, when the door finally opened. A male and female detective walked in, the male slapping a file on the table positioned in the middle of the room.
“Mr. Thibodeaux, first of all thank you for waiting. We’re sorry to keep you so long. We’ve had a busy night with New Orleanssquare in the middle of Mardi Gras. You know it filters to the sister city.”
“Indeed. And you are?” I kept my cool, much to the male detective’s chagrin. I could easily tell in the man’s eyes. Perhaps he’d heard of my reputation. Very little flustered me, at least as far as what I allowed others to see. However inside I was seething, which wouldn’t bode well for the entire police force. I had more influence in Key West than they obviously had any understanding of.
“Detectives Drake and Crenshaw. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Drake glanced at Sante, obviously unhappy I’d brought him along for the fun. “Why, certainly. I’ll be happy to help any way I can.”
As they shifted their questions back and forth, barely taking notes, I sensed within minutes they were indeed fishing, but also attempting to force me to lose my temper. By the time an hour had passed, I’d grown weary of their repetitiveness and gave Sante a quick glance.
“I think you’ve already gone over in detail the same questions now five times, Detectives,” Sante told them, expressing his dissatisfaction by rubbing his eyes.
“Just a few more and we’ll be happy to send your client on his merry way,” Detective Crenshaw stated. She’d remained stoic throughout the questioning period, but I had a feeling the good cop-bad cop routine was getting ready to be unfolded.
“Isn’t it true that you consider yourself bigger than the law, Mr. Thibodeaux? As if you can’t be arrested for any crime?”
I found it fascinating that she’d taken the bad cop routine, but at least it would prove to be amusing.
“That’s out of the line of questioning, Detective,” Sante reminded her. “And in truth, that’s insulting to my client.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to insult your client, Mr. Rodriguez.”
She moved around the table, daring to walk within two feet of me. How bold, especially since I could see raw fear in her eyes. She wasn’t certain what I was capable of. Either that or she believed goading me would bring about a response.
“Mr. Thibodeaux, I am curious. How does it feel to squeeze the life out of someone?”
“That’s it!” Sante snapped. “We are leaving unless my client is being charged with a crime.”
“I am so sorry if I was insensitive,” she said, inching even closer.
