Page 32 of Devious Roses

The door leading into the dining room flies open, and Omar comes running through.

“Psycho!” he gasps. “We’ve got visitors! Some cars are rolling up!”

The sweetness between Salvatore and I vanishes as he goes into mafia boss mode at once. He pulls me behind him before stepping up to Omar. “Who the fuck is it?”

“We’re not sure, but they’re coming in deep—”

“PUT YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEADS AND STAY WHERE YOU ARE!”

We go from standing in a room that’s empty except for the three of us and the broken glass and dinnerware to a room flooded with cops. They burst into the dining room with guns drawn and pointed at us.

One officer pushes himself to the forefront wearing a cocky grin and carrying what’s most certainly an arrest warrant.

My stomach sinks.

“Sorry to crash the party, folks,” he says loudly. “But Salvatore Jonathan Mancino, you’re under arrest.”

8

delphine

“You can’t be serious!”I blurt out. My top and skirt hang slightly crooked on my form and I’m not wearing my heels. My lipstick has faded, and my pressed, silky hair is in a state of disarray from my activities with Salvatore. But I step forward and insert myself into the crowd of police officers circling Salvatore. “I am Salvatore Mancino’s attorney, and I demand to know what’s going on. This is not the first time you’ve turned up to harass my client on trumped up charges.”

“Good thing it’s gone from a two to a one. Enjoy the read, ADA… or shall I say Mrs. Mancino?” sneers one of the uniformed officers. He slaps the arrest warrant into my chest, making no effort to hide his joy.

I glare at him, then at the other officers cinching tight handcuffs around Salvatore’s wrists, and finally tear open the official document.

It requires utmost restraint not to react, to keep my face neutral, and stay level-headed.

Murder one.

They’re charging Salvatore withfirst-degreemurder. Polk’s raised the charges. He’s ensured that there’s no way Salvatore will be granted bail—at least not tonight, or even tomorrow.

My heart beats at a frantic pace that leaves me feeling weak and helpless, though you’d never know glancing at me. On the receiving end of a dozen officer’s taunting stares, I neatly fold the piece of paper and slide into my heels.

“I will be accompanying my client to the station,” I say.

“Be our guest,” says the officer who barged into the dining room first. According to his badge, his name is Kramer, and judging by the insignia on his uniform, he’s the senior officer on the arrest. “But if you have any thoughts of getting hubby off tonight, you might want to check yourself. District Attorney Polk’s really going after the bad guys to the fullest extent of the law.”

My jaw aches, I hold it so tight. “We’ll see about that.”

* * *

Salvatore’s familiar with the routine—once in police custody, he doesn’t utter a word. He remains silent as we sit in an interrogation room and the lead detectives investigating Ralph Mirra’s murder grill us.

Though I’m not as sharp as I usually am, I manage to present carefully crafted answers to each and every question. By the looks of exasperation the detectives exchange at the end, I’d say I’ve succeeded. The alibi I’ve put together for Salvatore is infallible.

“Thank you for providing your client’s answers, Ms. Adams,” says the female detective, standing up from her chair. She’s tall and toned like an athlete, and the nicest of the group we’ve dealt with so far.

Her partner stands when she does. “Your client will be taken to a holding cell where he’ll be kept ’til his bailing hearing.”

“Excuse me,” I say, rising up along with them. “My client should be free to go. You do not have enough evidence to hold him.”

“Actually, this time we do. He’ll be in a holding cell for the foreseeable future,” the male detective says coldly.

My tone trembles despite my best efforts. “This is an egregious abuse of power. First, you show up to a private event Mr. Mancino was hosting. Then, you proceed to place him under arrest without informing my client why it’s even happening. Now, despite the fact that he has a solid alibi for the night in question and you have no substantive evidence, he’s being held for who knows how long? I will be contacting Internal Affairs about this!”

“You do that. Meanwhile, your mafioso lover boy will be in our holding cell. Right where he belongs.” The male detective bellows out a laugh, gripping Salvatore by the upper arm.

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