Page 67 of Emerald Vices
Behind the glass wall that divides the lobby from our office, I can see Abby and the rest of the office popping over their cubicles like meerkats.
“Stop,” I order. “I don’t want to give them any more reason to be suspicious, okay? Let me talk to them. If I cooperate, I’m sure we can show them nothing shady is going on.”
Leif and Leonty exchange a skeptical glance. Ignoring both of them, I force Remi’s leash into Leonty’s hand.
He tries to reject it. “Take him with you! That’s what he’s for.”
“His job isn’t to get Tased for biting detectives. Just keep him calm and keep him with you.”
“Fine, but I’m informing Andrey,” Leif snarls.
I don’t even bother trying to dissuade him from that one. If they’re telling Aunt Annie about my sleeping arrangement, there’s no way I’m keeping this from Andrey.
I return to Detective Harris and his sour-faced backup muscle. “Sorry about that. I’m happy to answer whatever questions you have for me.”
Harris nods. With one final, skewering glance at Leif and Leonty, we shuffle into a nearby conference room.
The door behind us swings shut with an eerie, disproportionate boom, like a judge’s gavel. Inside, it reeks like dust bunnies, mildew, and stale coffee.
Harris directs me into a rickety chair while the officer lurks in the corner. Once I’m seated, the detective leans against the table, his arms folded across his chest tightly enough for the folds of fat on his neck to spill over the collar. He flashes me another megawatt smile. Instinctively, I lean as far back as my seat will allow.
“Ms. Boone, tell me why you travel with a full-on security team.”
I cross my legs and shrug. “My partner gets a little paranoid about my safety. He tends to go overboard sometimes.” I force a fake laugh. “You know how eccentric these rich businessmen can get.”
“And the rich businessman in question is…” He makes a big show of flipping through the small yellow notepad in his hand, as if he doesn’t already know exactly what he’s about to say. “… Andrey Kuznetsov, is that right?”
I cling to my cherry pendant to keep my hands from fidgeting. I started wearing it after we had our big talk, and I’m grateful for it now.
“That’s him.”
“I’m curious, Ms. Boone: why would a woman with a man like Andrey Kuznetsov want to work in a place like this?”
I uncross my legs and then cross them in the opposite direction. “Are you here to grill me on my personal life, Detective, or do you plan on getting to Byron Wells any time soon?”
He whistles and looks over at the cop in the corner. “We have a live one, Hernandez.”
“You have a busy one,” I correct acidly. “I have a job to get to.”
“Of course. You don’t want us wasting your time,” he says politely. “Let’s get to the point then. When was the last time you heard from Mr. Wells?”
“It would’ve been the last time we were both in the office together. Months ago by now.”
“And what was the nature of your contact?”
Bitter, mostly.
“Professional,” I answer instead.
Harris smiles. He lets the silence drag on, long enough to make it clear he’s suspicious, at the very least. “Professional, huh?” He rubs his hairy chin. “So there was nothing going on between you and Mr. Wells?”
Gritting my teeth, I shrug as nonchalantly as I can manage given the circumstances. “Mr. Wells had a very one-sided crush on me.”
“Hm. And…?”
“And nothing,” I snap. “He made an advance in the workplace. I shut it down. End of story.”
“Except, it wasn’t the end of the story, was it, Ms. Boone?”