Page 33 of Scripted for Love and Poison
Luke’s eyes were fixed on Detective Owens, only shy of intimidating. “Yes.”
“Did David Sparrow tell you to stand Luke up?” Sol asked the policeman accusatively, and Luke had to suppress a smile. He liked it when she got fiery on his behalf.
“Now, now, ma’am, please,” Detective Owens said. “I’m the one asking questions here. Why does your face look familiar?”
“Oh, I get that all the time. I have a very common face,” Sol said, and Luke was almost unable to stop himself from snickering. The last adjective he’d use to describe her face wascommon. But it didn’t look like Detective Owens had realized Sol had been the woman asking to get into Simon Smith’s building the day he was reported missing.
“If you will please follow me,” Detective Owens said, and he guided Sol and Luke through the maroon-carpeted second floor of the police station until they reached the door to a grim, small, windowless room with a table and some chairs in the middle.
“An interrogation room, really?” Sol said, and Luke heard the anguish in her tone.
“Standard procedure. We’ll have more privacy this way. After you.” Detective Owens indicated for Sol to get inside before him. Luke followed her closely.
“May I ask you in what capacity you’re here, Mr. Contadino?” Detective Owens asked Luke as they all sat around the table.
“Mr. Contadino is my legal counsel,” Sol said. Luke realized the anguish in Sol was probably only visible—and audible—to him. To people who didn’t know her, she could be perceived as the confident and slightly intimidating woman who always took over in these kinds of situations.
“Your legal counsel?” Detective Owens looked unimpressed.
“That’s exactly what I said,” Ice Queen Sol said.
Sol’s words about Luke’s legal experience weren’t completely misplaced or erroneous. She knew that Luke had taken three years to complete a qualifying law degree when he first went to uni. Of course, he’d never practiced or continued his education in that field, opting instead to intern in a private detective’s agency. And he had absolutely no idea how different California law was from England’s. Judging by what he’d witnessed so far, there was probably a law forbidding smart shoes from being worn at all times. And there was a statewide ban so that baristas never left any room for milk while brewing tea.
“What’s happened to Jason Zit, then?” Luke said.
“You two are quite the curious duo,” Detective Owens said, and even if he’d been affable and smiling from the moment they’d met him, Luke was starting to feel they were rubbing him the wrong way. “The police were called to the stretch of Beverly Boulevard between Detroit and Formosa at around noon today, as a Toyota RAV4 had crashed infront of the New Beverly Cinema. Mr. Zit, who had been at the wheel, was declared dead on the scene.”
“He had a car accident?” asked Sol.
“He did, but we don’t think the death resulted from the crash but the other way around,” Detective Owens said cryptically.
“I don’t think I follow,” said Sol.
“We think something happened to Mr. Zit that left him incapable of driving,” the detective explained.
“You think he was poisoned,” Luke declared.
“And why would you make such an assumption, Mr. Contadino?”
“That’s the kind of sharing of information I was looking to establish with you when we were supposed to meet this morning,” Luke said.
“Ah, quid pro quo. I tell you things, you tell me things,” Detective Owens said.
“Was that aSilence of the Lambsreference, really?” Sol protested.
Luke shrugged. “Sorry if I didn’t get it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”
“Kinda young, huh?” said Detective Owens, who was more around Sol’s age, referring to Luke.
“Now IknowDavid definitely asked you to give Luke a hard time,” Sol said, and for the first time since she’d called him that day, it wasn’t anguish that Luke heard in her voice but actual anger.
“Enough of the chitchat,” Luke told Owens. He was starting to get tired of Officer Hunky Dory’s brand of pretend friendliness. “Why did you ask Ms. Novo to come in today?”
“Because she may have been the last person to see Mr. Zit alive,” said Detective Owens ominously.
“Oneof the last people,” corrected Sol. “Emily was also there.”
“Emily?” asked Detective Owens as if the name sounded familiar but he couldn’t place it. He checked his notepad. “Ah, the wife!”
