Page 73 of Unbossly Manners

“What time was this approximately?” Prathi asked.

“Probably 4:30. It was when you left to deal with the catering issue.”

Derrick pulled out his phone and scrolled. “That timing seems right. I called the caterer at 4:37.”

Prathi typed, and I glanced at Serena who squeezed my hand. Jackson scowled, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I looked into the effects of Rohypnol,” Jackson said, tapping his phone. “The medical professional I consulted said that symptoms typically begin within thirty minutes of consumption, and peak within a couple of hours. They stay in the system approximately eight hours.”

Prathi noted this. “When did you start feeling the effects of the drug?”

“I was fine for at least the next hour. I had a conversation with Jackson, then I bumped into that intern, Brody, in the bathroom. He was upset and we spoke for a moment, then he left and I found Derrick again.”

“What was Brody upset about? Did he go into any detail?” Isaac asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

If I hadn’t known about his affair with Brody, I wouldn’t have thought the question out of left field. Isaac was an investigative journalist. This is exactly the type of detail he’d be interested in.

“It was personal stuff, I think,” I said. “He didn’t really say.”

“Do you two have any history?” Derrick asked.

“We’d barely had any interaction before that day,” I said.

I took a beat then glanced at Isaac. His face was calm, but his hands were clasped tightly in his lap.

“When did you have your next drink?” Prathi asked.

“I’ll answer that,” Derrick said. “I mean, I’m the one who gave her the drink.”

I nodded. “He’s correct.”

“Where did you get the drink?” Prathi asked, pushing back a long strand of dark hair that had fallen in front of her iPad screen.

“From the bar,” Derrick said.

“Was there a bartender?” Isaac jumped in.

Derrick paused, his forehead furrowing.

“Yes. A female.”

Everyone leaned closer in, sensing this was the part of the timeline that was most vital.

“Do you remember anyone else around the bar?” Isaac asked.

Derrick shook his head, his eyebrows knitted in concentration. “No.”

“How many drinks had you had at this point?” Jackson asked, a tinge of accusation in his tone.

“That was my third,” Derrick said, unruffled. “All beer.”

“And this was your second,” Jackson stated, looking at me.

“Yes.”

Jackson’s eagle-eyed gaze stayed on Derrick. His suspicion seemed to go deeper than the drugging. Jackson had told me that Derrick was insistent that he go to the hospital with me. But that didn’t seem strange. Derrick had been a detective. He’d be familiar with the protocol of how to handle a situation like that.

“And Derrick handed you the beer?” Jackson asked, his muscles tense.

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