Page 51 of Shades of Ruin (Sharp Edges Duet #2)
Chapter Thirty-Six
GREYSON
T hese cops are even more fucking useless than the ones that interrogated me when Satine was found.
And I’m ready to throw myself into the flames of Hell if I have to answer another damn question while Detective Montgomery scribbles my answers down on a notepad.
Who the fuck even uses a notepad anymore?
“How would you describe your relationship with the deceased, Mr. Greyson?”
“We got along. She’s worked for me for almost seven years.”
“Just a professional relationship, then?” The look on the detective’s face suggests that she thinks I didn’t keep things ethical. If she knew what I did with my pastry chef, she’d really be judging.
“Since she started working for me, yes. We have a past that’s been buried for a long time.”
“Did Ms. Roche ever show an interest in rekindling things?”
All the fucking time. “Not explicitly, no.”
Detective Montgomery jots something down before turning to Angélica. “And how did you know the victim? ”
“We worked together at Grey’s, although not very closely. I’m a chef in the kitchen, and she was up front with the patrons.”
“Did you two get along?”
Angélica looks uneasy as she tries to answer the question honestly. “We tried, but Collette wasn’t always the easiest person to get along with.”
“Did you ever argue or get into fights?”
Angélica’s jaw clenches. “Sometimes.”
That seems to delight the detective as she scratches it into her goddamn book.
“So you and Ms. Flores were together all night?” Detective Montgomery asks, changing the subject quickly in the hopes of jarring us into saying something stupid. I’m used to the tactic.
“Yes,” I grit through my teeth. “The whole night.”
“Except for a few minutes when I had to use the restroom,” Angélica chimes in, unable to avoid honesty.
Christ, we’re supposed to be giving these fuckers the bare minimum until the lawyer gets here. My angel doesn’t realize that the whole truth isn’t always what sets you free when the cops already have a guilty card with your name on it.
“And when was this?” Detective Montgomery asks with another array of scribbles.
“Right before everything went out? It was pitch black when I came out, and I had to stumble my way back.”
Shit .
The detective looks up at us, her eyes bright like she just got her murderer handed to her on a platter, and she gets to go home early. “So you weren’t together at the time of the murder?”
Angélica’s brows furrow. “Oh, well I’m not certain when Collette was killed, but Greyson and I weren’t together until a little before the flames came back on.”
“How long were you alone?”
“A few minutes? No more than five. ”
“You can do a lot of damage in five minutes, Ms. Flores. I’ve seen the crime scenes to prove it.”
Angélica doesn’t know how to respond, so she stays silent. Like she should have been from the moment this preliminary “statement taking” started.
“Mr. Greyson said you didn’t leave his side the whole night,” Detective Montgomery continues. “That means one of you is lying.”
A mere evasion, really. Lie makes it sound so much more sinister.
Angélica bristles at the accusation. “No one is lying . It was just a miscommunication. We were together the whole night except for those few minutes.”
“The few minutes before a girl was found murdered.” The detective looks Angélica dead in the eye, and I can feel the seriousness of our current predicament start to sink in.
“You don’t have an alibi for the time of death, Ms. Flores.
Three people can account for Mr. Greyson during the entirety of the power outage—Mr. Holt, Mr. Ashford, and Ms. Caine.
Everyone else we’ve questioned tonight has someone to vouch for their whereabouts during the presumed time of the murder.
Except you. And you have the victim’s blood on your hands. ”
Shit, this looks bad. Really fucking bad.
“Well, not everyone can have an alibi,” Angélica argues. “There was another woman in the restroom at the same time I was.”
My ears prick up at this new information.
Detective Montgomery shoots her a dubious look. “Did you see this woman?”
“Not her face. She was in the stall beside mine. Red stilettos—they stuck out because everyone else is wearing gold tonight.”
“A lady in red shoes,” the deceptive scoffs. “Is that all you got? ”
“I didn’t really stick around to chat.” Angélica is letting her attitude show, and that won’t do her any favors with these people.
“Shame,” the detective sighs in mock sympathy as she taps her pen against the notepad.
“Oh, and I bumped into someone in the dark when I was trying to find my way back,” Angélica adds in a rush. “Our hands brushed. I thought maybe my hands were still wet from washing them, but when the lights came on, I saw the blood. Could that have been the killer?”
The look on the detective’s face is absolutely patronizing. “Everything is a possibility, Ms. Flores.”
“Can I wash it off yet? It freaks me out knowing it’s hers.”
“Wash it off ? ” The detective levels Angélica with a look of feigned politeness. “As I’m sure you can imagine, Ms. Flores, you’re our prime suspect. We’ll need to take your clothes and swab your hands for evidence. And you’ll have to come with us to the station for more questions.”
The mention of washing hands reminds me of something crucial that I should have realized at the very beginning of this mess. “Angélica didn’t kill Colette,” I announce suddenly, never so sure of anything in my life.
“That’s what they all think, Mr. Greyson. No one can picture someone they know doing something horrific like this.”
“Trust me, I’m not speaking out of bias. I have proof.” Thank God for chemical play.
“What kind of proof ?” the detective asks. It’s clear from her tone that she really doesn’t give a shit.
“Angélica’s hands are covered in cinnamon oil. It’s hydrophobic and takes hours to fade on its own. If she touched Collette at any moment, there would be traces of the oil on her body. Go ahead and test it.”
The detective stares me down, trying to decide if something as small as this is worth overturning her decision that Angélica is the killer.
“You’ve got the wrong fucking girl, which means the real suspect is somewhere out there. Do your goddamn job and find them.”
“I don’t really care about your kinky bullshit, Mr. Greyson. We can’t ignore that she’s the only one here with blood on her hands.”
“Use your fucking imagination,” I seethe, so sick of cops going for the easiest suspect.
“The type of person who murders a girl and carves out her heart in a room full of people isn’t going to be careless enough to be caught at the scene with the victim’s blood on their hands. It’s a clear diversion.”
The detective hesitates, clearly considering my words. But it’s not enough. “While I appreciate your theories, Mr. Greyson, I’ve only got one suspect right now. And I’m taking her in.”
“What about me?” I snap, not wanting to let Angélica out of my sight. Certainly two people I’m connected to winding up dead in nearly the exact same manner is enough to make me look suspicious, too?
“I think we have all we need from you for now, Mr. Greyson,” Detective Montgomery sighs. “I’d advise you not to do any traveling in case we need another statement.”
“Understood,” I bite. That means they think Angélica is their killer, but if they can’t prove it, they’re more than willing to pin the crime on me.
I walk Angélica out of earshot and grasp her chin. “You’re going to have to go with them. I don’t like it, but they have enough evidence to hold you for a little while. I’ll make sure Ashford’s lawyer meets you at the station. Don’t say a word until he’s in the room with you.”
“O-okay,” Angélica stammers, her lips trembling.
“It’s going to be fine, I promise. Is there anything we should warn the lawyer about? Anything in your past that won’t look pretty in a murder investigation? Any questions he needs to make sure the cops stay clear of?”
I doubt my angel has done anything worth hiding, but I’m cautious enough to ask for her sake.
“No, nothing,” she answers a little too quickly. I hope I’m imagining the small flicker of hesitation in her eyes.
“Are you sure?” I press, trying to gauge the tension in her body with my fingertips. “Given my past, I wouldn’t judge you for anything. I just need to know so I can keep you safe.”
“There’s nothing. I promise.”
“Good,” I heave in relief. “Let’s get this bullshit over with then.” I walk her toward the door, wishing they’d let me drive her myself rather than stuffing her into the back of a squad car.
“Greyson,” Ashford calls from behind me. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Kinda busy right now, Your Lordship,” I reply over my shoulder.
“Detective Montgomery has Angélica taken care of right now.” His face contorts with an emotion I can’t pin. “This is important.”
Rolling my eyes at his inconvenient demands, I wrap my arms around my girl and crush her against me. “You gonna be okay, angel?” I whisper.
“Of course,” she answers back, sounding braver than I’d expect. “I did nothing wrong. They can’t charge me if I’m innocent.”
If only that were true.
“I’ll come get you as soon as they let me. Any snacks you want me to bring you?”
Her nose scrunches up as she thinks for a moment. “Donuts.”
“Won’t they have enough of those at the station?” I laugh in spite of the grim circumstances .
“But they won’t be made by the best chef in all of Chicago,” she replies, batting her thick eyelashes.
“Flattery is an admirable tactic, but you know I don’t make dessert,” I tell her with a tap on her pretty lips.
She nips at my fingers. “And here I thought you loved me.”
“Fine,” I huff. “I’ll spend all night glazing donuts just for you.”
She narrows her dark brown eyes. “Why do I feel like I should be worried about you sneaking in something else that’s white and creamy?”
“Because you know me so well.” I swoop down and press a soft kiss against her lips. “Be a good girl, and I’ll see you soon.” I swat her ass just for fun as she follows Detective Montgomery out of the club.
I turn back to find Ashford looking like he’s about to vomit. “Jesus, are you two always like that? It’s disgusting.”
“Now you know how I feel about you and Kara.” I cross my arms over my chest. “So what is so important? I have donuts to bake.”
He gets right to it. “My lawyer asked me to look into Angélica before he got to the station so he knew what he was walking into. Brax found something when he was digging through records from Colombia.”
“What kind of something?” I ask, vaguely remembering that Brax is the name of his tech guy.
“The incriminating kind.” Ashford pauses before continuing, and that means the news will be bad. “She killed someone back in Colombia. That’s why she ran to America. She needed to get away from the authorities who were circling her house every day looking for answers—and a body.”
“Impossible,” I scoff. “She told me she was clean. And I believe her.”
“Well, I guarantee she isn’t. There’s a statement from her father saying she did it. There’s evidence. And she was the last to see the man alive.”
I glare at him. “I still don’t believe it.”
“Christ, think with your head and not your cock for once. If she hadn’t done it, wouldn’t she have told you why she left Colombia? Wouldn’t she have mentioned the fallout with her parents? The disappearance of a man she’d known her whole life? The fact that she said nothing makes her guilty.”
Goddamnit . He’s right, and I’m a lovesick idiot who fell for the lies of a pretty girl. Again.
“I’ll get the truth out of her. Just make sure the lawyer steers the cops clear of any questions about her life before America.”
“Will do. And Greyson—you don’t know the whole story. She might have a good reason for lying.”
“There’s never a good reason for her to lie to me,” I snarl. “And I’ll make sure she remembers it.”
“Go easy on her, Greyson.” Caden Ashford making a plea for mercy? They all must have liked Angélica even more than I expected. Pride and anger twist in my gut at the same time.
“Don’t tell me how to handle my girl, and I won’t tell you how to fuck yours. Got it?”
Ashford shakes his head, but he doesn’t take the bait. He knows I’m eager for a fight, and he’s not going to be the one to give it to me. “Just let me know how everything goes. You and Angélica should come over to the manor for a drink after it all settles down.”
“I’d love to drink my way through your most expensive whisky collection. I could definitely use it right about now.”
“I’d invite you over tonight, but I’m afraid I’ll be occupied. The future Lady Ashford is in desperate need of a spanking after the shit she pulled tonight.”
“You’ll never deserve her, you know that, right? Kara is better than the both of us. ”
“I couldn’t agree more. But I’ll keep her for as long as she’ll have me,” Ashford replies with a slight smile that reminds me he actually has a heart beneath all that stoic, British brooding.
“Well, you better go find your captive before she tries to run away.”
“True. Try not to worry too much about Angélica. Randall is the best in the business. He’ll keep them from finding anything substantial enough to hold her.”
“We can hope. Have a good night. I’ll call you tomorrow if there’s any news.”
“Don’t be too hard on her.”
“I’ll be more than soft,” I promise before walking out. He doesn’t realize that softness will be so much worse.
Change of plans. Donuts are off the menu. Looks like I’ll be serving up punishment instead.