Chương 6
“And the second?”
“What second?”
Alejandro watched his face.
Gabriel touched his ring.
“I came to see whether you were alive,” he said. “Not to be interrogated.”
“You have your answer.”
“Apparently.”
He picked up the flowers again. “Call me when the medication wears off.”
Alejandro’s voice followed him to the door.
“Take the lilies.”
Gabriel left with them.
Sofia waited until his footsteps disappeared.
“You think it was him.”
“I think he lies when he touches the ring.”
“He has touched that ring since he was nineteen.”
“He has lied since he was younger.”
“That is not evidence.”
“No.”
Alejandro returned to the bed. The walk had cost him more than he wanted to show.
Sofia adjusted the blanket over his legs with an irritated snap.
“You cannot kill him.”
Alejandro looked up.
“I mean it.”
“You think that is my plan?”
“I think you have had the same plan for every betrayal since you were twenty-five.”
He turned his face away.
Sofia lowered herself into the chair. “If Gabriel did this, we prove it.”
“And if proof fails?”
“Then we live with failure.”
“That is easy for you to say.”
“No.” Her voice remained quiet. “It is difficult for me to say. That is why it matters.”
Three days after the collapse, Elena was arrested at six in the morning.
Two detectives came to the apartment with a warrant. They allowed her to wake Emma, call a neighbor, and change from pajamas into jeans. Detective Brooks was not among them.
Emma stood beside the couch holding her rabbit backpack.
“Where are you taking Mama?”
One detective crouched. “We need to ask her questions at the station.”
“You can ask here.”
Elena knelt and took Emma’s face between both hands.
“Mrs. Alvarez is going to stay with you.”
“No.”
“I’ll be back.”
“When?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Emma’s eyes filled.
Elena wanted to promise before lunch. She wanted to say grown-ups had made a mistake and would fix it quickly. Instead, she kissed Emma’s forehead.
“I need you to remember something. None of this happened because you helped Mr. Moretti.”
Emma’s lower lip shook.
“Do you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“You did not cause this.”
“Then who did?”
Elena looked at the detectives.
“That is what they are supposed to find out.”
At the station, Elena learned that the cashew flour in her locker carried her fingerprints.
She remembered the package after seeing a photograph. It was a plain resealable bag with no commercial label.
Two weeks earlier, Gabriel had asked her to dispose of several expired pantry items from the guesthouse kitchen. He had handed her a box. One of the bags inside had torn, spilling pale powder. Elena had cleaned it up, resealed the bag, and placed it back in the box before taking everything to the outdoor trash.
She told the detectives.
The trash had been collected eleven days earlier.
No one could verify her account.
The access log showed Elena’s master key opening the study at 2:06 p.m. on the day of the poisoning. The camera recorded the dark-coated figure twelve minutes later.
Elena had used her key at 2:06. She did not deny it. She had polished the decanter, dusted the desk, watered the indoor palm, and left at 2:14.
“Did anyone enter while you were there?” a detective asked.
“No.”
“Did you put wine on the sideboard?”
“No. Mr. Moretti’s assistant did that after lunch.”
“Did you handle the bottle?”
“I moved it to clean underneath.”
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“Did you know about his allergy?”
“Everyone in the kitchen knew.”
“Did you know epinephrine was kept in the desk?”
“No.”
“Your daughter did.”
“She carries her own.”
“You were suspended after the incident.”
“Yes.”
“Had you been threatened with termination before?”
Elena stared at him. “By a guard while my daughter was trying to save a man’s life.”
“Had you?”
“No.”
“Were you angry with Mr. Moretti?”
“Sometimes.”
The detective looked up.
“He employed me,” Elena said. “Being angry with your employer is not attempted murder.”
“What were you angry about?”
“Hours. Last-minute demands. Being treated as though the house cleaned itself. The usual things.”
“Did you need money?”
“Yes.”
“How badly?”
Elena laughed without humor. “I am a single mother in Westchester County. You’ll have to be more specific.”
Her public defender asked her not to answer further until counsel could be present.
By noon, a photograph of Elena being led into the station appeared online. The headline called her ALEJANDRO MORETTI’S MAID. Her name did not appear until the third paragraph.
The article described the poisoning as a possible act of revenge by a disgruntled employee.
It did not mention Emma.
A second article did, incorrectly reporting that the child had found an injector in Alejandro’s desk.
By evening, strangers were arguing about Elena beneath photographs of her daughter.
Some called Emma a hero.
Others called the story staged.
Several wanted to know why a four-year-old had been permitted inside the home of an alleged organized-crime leader. One person posted the address of Elena’s apartment building.
Mrs. Alvarez unplugged the television and moved Emma’s mattress into her own living room.
At seven, a black sedan stopped outside.
Alejandro stepped out with Sofia and Daniel Mercer.
He had been discharged against medical advice that afternoon.
Mrs. Alvarez opened the building door but blocked the entrance with her body. She was sixty-eight, five feet tall, and wearing slippers shaped like cats.
“No,” she said.
Sofia glanced at Alejandro. “I like her.”
Mercer stepped forward. “We are here to provide legal assistance to Ms. Ruiz.”
“You are here because you people brought trouble.”
“That may also be true,” Sofia said.
Mrs. Alvarez looked at her.
“Emma is frightened,” Sofia continued. “We will not come upstairs unless you permit it.”
May you like
Alejandro stood in the rain without an umbrella. His open black shirt had been replaced by a dark sweater, but the silver chain remained around his neck. Bruising showed above the collar.
Mrs. Alvarez studied him.
