A guard leads me to a monitored meeting room where my visitors were waiting.
I recognize Mercury immediately.
“Glad to see you,” I say. “Gets kinda lonely here, especially since I used to be on the job. Not exactly a great ice breaker.”
I have known Mercury and her mom, Bitsy, for a long time. She introduces me to Silas, who extends his hand. “Sir, thanks for meeting us.”
Silas reaches into his briefcase and produces an oven timer. He cranks it, and a loud ticking sound envelops us.
“We have one hour,” he says. Let’s make it productive.”
Clearly, this Silas person was all business.
“We’d like to start by asking you about your relationship with Armand,” he says, to my shock. I hadn’t heard his name since just before the gala. “We understand he was a close friend and a fellow musician. Can you talk about how and when you met and how your relationship developed?”
Somehow I summon the energy to discuss Armand and the race track and the betting and the debts, all of the Mick stuff and how becoming a cop was a second choice. “Armand talked frequently of how he made Mick a star and, at first, he seemed to want to make me one, too. I had several auditions, but never landed anything consistent. … Obviously, their opinion of my skills did not agree with mine.”
Mercury reaches over the table and takes my hand, a gesture that makes my eyes well up.
“Paul, you continued to go to the track to see Armand. Were you already a gambler or was this new to you?” she asks softly. “The streets say you were a regular, every week or so.”
I was, I tell her.
I am thankful that Silas is letting Mercury lead the questioning.
“I’ll ask point blank,” she says. “Did you kill Mick? We all know that you tried to kill Carson. And what, if anything, did Armand have to do with it?”
I didn’t want to talk about this but I knew I had to. I take several deep breaths and look up at the ceiling.
They know the answers. And I know that they know.
“Armand gave me money to cover my gambling expenses – a loan, you know.”
Silas shifts in his seat. “How much?”
“Around sixty thousand.”
“Did you have any hope of repaying him?”
“No.”
Silas presses on. “So he was manipulating you?”
“Yes.”
Silas continues. “Paul, were you aware that Armand had another person here working here for him?”
“Yes … guy goes by Nico. I didn’t have any actual contact with him.”
Silas shifts in his seat, his eyes move toward the oven timer.
“Paul,” he asks pointedly. “Did Armand direct you to kill Carson?”
Just then, a guard steps in and the oven timer rings loudly.
“Sorry,” the guard says. “That’s time.”
Jenny Page