The Suicide King (Queen of Spades Thrillers Book 3) by Kristi Belcamino

Author:Kristi Belcamino [Belcamino, Kristi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-28T16:00:00+00:00

The inspector looked frazzled when we walked into his office. He was younger and more attractive than I’d expected. I’d imagined some gray-haired, paunchy guy with a droopy mustache. Instead he had short hair, a trim goatee, and wire-framed glasses.

His desk was piled with papers that he shuffled around. He acted as if we were an irritation. The police officers who had escorted us in said something in Italian and then closed the door behind us.

He stood, came around and shook our hands and then gestured for us to sit. I hoped he spoke English because otherwise this was a colossal waste of time.

“I’m Inspector Brossard. Mrs. Marino? Ms. Santella? Thank you for agreeing to come in.”

We nodded. He jutted his chin at me. “I’m very sorry about your loss.”

I pressed my lips together, afraid to speak, but gave a slight nod.

For the next hour, we both gave our accounts of the shooting. Inspector Brossard was interested that we had both been in different locations during the shooting. Since Mrs. Marino had been in the courtyard, he wanted to hear what she said first.

I listened intently when Mrs. Marino described what she had seen.

They had just brought out the food and placed it on the buffet table when she heard noises.

“I thought someone was popping balloons. Like little children,” she said. Her voice was wobbly. The shooting had aged her twenty years.

“But then Matt fell. I didn’t see much after that because Dante threw me to the ground and stayed on top of me until, until they were gone.”

The inspector asked her to further describe the positions of the three of them. She and Dante had basically fallen behind Matt’s body. Matt had shielded them.

“Did you see anything at all that help identify these people with the guns?” He looked over his glasses as he spoke.

I noticed how carefully he had worded that. Had she seen the murderers, is what I wanted to scream, but I kept my mouth firmly shut.

“No,” she sobbed, as if everything depended on her answer. “No. No, I’m sorry I didn’t. But I thought I heard them speaking Italian.”

The inspector looked skeptical.

Then I told him what I had seen from the balcony. He’d been taking notes, but as soon as I mentioned seeing the woman, his pen froze in mid-air. He’d been less than interested in my description of the bikers, but the woman had given him pause.

He looked up. “Can you describe her further?”

“Not really. She had long hair. She wore black. She seemed, I don’t know, voluptuous. Her clothing was very formfitting and showed her curves.” It felt stupid describing her this way, but I wanted to be as accurate as possible.

When I finished speaking, I waited for him to look at me again. “Do you think she did it? Who is she? Why?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he just stared at me for a few seconds, locking eyes with me. I finally had to look away. Then, to my surprise, he answered. “No, I don’t think she did it.

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