Chapter 6 - The Interrogation Room
The metallic clang of the heavy metal interrogation room door echoing behind Detective Miller sounded like a gunshot in the sterile, windowless room.
Julian sat unfazed at the scarred steel table, his hands cuffed to the bolted anchor in the center. His dark hair was slightly damp from the rain, and the torn elbow of his suit jacket exposed a jagged red scratch across his forearm. He stared straight ahead with cold, unblinking intensity, ignoring the digital clock glowing red against the concrete wall.
Detective Miller tossed a thick manila folder onto the table, the papers sliding across the metal surface to stop right in front of Julian’s locked hands.
“Your mother paints a very different picture of tonight’s dinner party, Mr. Vance,” Miller said, leaning his weight onto the table and narrowing his eyes. “She claims you flew into an unprovoked, paranoid rage, assaulted your brother until he required stitches, and locked yourself in the sub-basement after threatening everyone with chemical contamination.”
Julian didn't blink. He slowly lifted his gaze to meet the detective’s skeptical eyes. “Did my mother also mention the potassium cyanide residue currently sitting on the dining room table in that decanter?”
Miller’s expression flickered for a fraction of a second before he recovered his professional composure. “We searched the dining room, Mr. Vance. The decanter contained high-end vintage Cabernet Sauvignon. No toxins found. No poison registered by our field kit.”
A cold realization settled deep in Julian’s stomach. Evelyn had moved fast. While he was trapped in the sub-basement, she must have swapped the decanter or neutralized the sample, erasing the physical proof before the first patrol car pulled into the circular drive.
“She switched it,” Julian said flatly, his voice devoid of panic, carrying only a dangerous, chilling certainty. “My mother has spent forty years cleaning up corporate and domestic crime scenes. She knows every protocol local law enforcement uses.”
Miller pulled out a chair and sat down heavily, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers. “That’s a very serious accusation to level against a sixty-year-old philanthropist, Julian. Especially when your brother is currently pressing formal charges for assault, battery, and attempted extortion.”
“Extortion?” Julian let out a short, humorless breath. “Arthur has been draining the corporate pension fund for three years. The audit trail is sitting in my personal safe at the main office.”
Miller leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. “Your office was broken into and completely gutted by a fire about twenty minutes ago. All physical records are gone.”
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Julian froze, his jaw tightening as the full scope of his family’s ruthless counter-attack closed in around him.
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