Page 152 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Airtight

embezzled from Ben. What a fool he is! All men are fools! I leave you
with that bit of acquired wisdom, Lieutenant. Sweet dreams.”
I raised my cup in a mock toast and lowered it to my lips. And
then it was gone, splattered against the wall. Labelle Gramercy had
leapt across the table and knocked it out of my hand in one
movement so fast it was a blur.
“No, you don’t,” she said, putting on the handcuffs. “You’re going
to trial for this. Everything that has been said in this room today is on
tape—part of the debriefing, in case you’ve forgotten. The case
against you would have been purely circumstantial, you know. But
you kept emptying that bottle in your office. You were observed; my
people reported everyone’s movements. The atmosphere of paranoia
I created in here finally got to you, didn’t it, Miss Day? But I had to
get you to show your hand. Thanks for telling me about the ticket:
that should convince any jury in the world of your guilt.”
I was caught. I couldn’t believe it, after all the pains I’d taken. “But
the coffee—you should be flat on the floor by now.”
She pushed me toward the door. “I switched cups while you were
picking up my pen. You’ve seen how fast I can move. And while
you’re in jail awaiting trial you might reflect upon the etymology of
‘credenza.’ Lucrezia Borgia would have been more subtle.”

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