Page 88 of Wild Idol
“My pleasure.”
“I’m just going to put this in the car so nothing happens to it.” Denise hurried outside.
“I’m sorry about that,” Paris said. “She’s new.”
“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” Sable replied.
Denise hustled down the walkway to the news van parked at the curb. The crew was in the process of unloading lights and scrims.
JD and I pulled alongside in the Porsche.
Denise handed over the items. I took them, wearing nitrile gloves, and put them into an evidence bag. Just like that, we had everything we needed.
“Nice work,” I said.
Denise smiled. “Like taking candy from a baby.” She spun around and rushed back inside. Denise was having fun.
We drove off, returned to the station, and logged the items into evidence.
50
Ifelt bad for the kids. They got so excited to meet Sable—though a few of her lyrics weren’t necessarily kid-appropriate.
I couldn’t prove it yet, but the real Sable was dead. Burned up in that fiery incident. But, what I could prove, was that the impostor signing autographs in the children’s hospital was Emily Fowler. The prints had come back a match.
I didn’t want to arrest her at the hospital. This was supposed to be an uplifting day. Not a day to crush spirits. The last thing I wanted to do was arrest Emily on hospital grounds and upset the children. Some of them would find out eventually that they hadn’t met the real Sable. Others wouldn’t know the difference. Perhaps it wasn’t important. The important thing was to give those kids hope.
We waited outside of Sable’s estate.
The black SUV pulled into the driveway, followed by the news van. Kade hopped out of the passenger seat of theSUV, then held the door for Emily, who climbed out of the back, followed by Paris Delaney and her cameraman.
Emily looked shocked to see us. “Deputies. What are you doing here?“
“Miss Fowler, you’re under arrest for fraud, criminal impersonation, and potential RICO violations.”
Emily‘s eyes rounded, and her skin went pale again. Her bodyguards exchanged looks, not knowing exactly how to handle this situation.
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” I commanded.
“You’re making some kind of mistake.”
“No mistake, Emily,” I said as I slapped the cuffs around her delicate wrists.
Paris and her crew captured the whole thing on camera. “Emily, did you kill Sable?”
Her brow wrinkled with fear and annoyance. “What!? No!”
“Did you conspire to have her killed?”
“No. This is crazy. I’m Sable. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is this some kind of sick joke?”
“Look, there’s obviously been some kind of mistake,” Everett said.
Emily looked at him. “Do something!”
Everett shrugged. “I’m going to get you out. Don’t worry. Don’t say anything without a lawyer.”
I escorted Emily down the driveway, Mirandized her, and stuffed her into the back of Mendoza’s patrol car.
