At Risk Read Online Free Page B

events?” Rafe asked.
    “Yeah.”
    He began filling the detective in. At the conclusion of the statement, Cumberland looked around at the assemblage. “We’ll continue this down at the station house.”
    oOo
    “The detective is ready for you.”
    Eugenia stood up and followed a uniformed officer down the hall at the North Rampart Street police station. When she stepped through the doorway into what looked like a grubby nine-by-nine-foot room, Cumberland gave her a long, considering look; and she had to stifle the impulse to smooth her wrinkled dress.
    Instead, she kept her gaze steady as she sat down in the hard metal chair across the scarred table from him.
    “Do you have a list of the dishes you served tonight?”
    “It’s in the restaurant kitchen.”
    “And the ingredients.”
    “I have the recipes.”
    “We’ve also taken samples of all the dishes on the buffet table.”
    Eugenia went very still. She’d come in here telling herself she had nothing to be afraid of, and he was starting off with major intimidation. Not so much because of what he’d said but because of the way he’d said it, the way he’d done in the restaurant when he’d been talking to Rafe.
    She dragged in a breath and let it out, telling herself it was a reasonable question.
    “Are you saying you think there was a problem with my food?” she asked, managing to keep her voice even.
    “One of your patrons is dead.”
    “Was . . . was he poisoned?”
    “The autopsy will tell us.”
    She hadn’t done anything wrong, she told herself again. But as she took in the ‘got ya’ expression on his face, a terrible thought struck her. “Is anyone else sick?”
    “Not that we know of.”
    She let out the breath she’d been holding. “Thank God.”
    Cumberland shuffled through the papers on the table in front of him, then took another line of attack. “You had an illegal alien working in your restaurant.”
    Her rejoinder was instantaneous. “That’s impossible. I’m very careful to make sure everyone has the proper documentation.”
    “It was one of Ms. Lacoste’s drummers.”
    So that’s why the man had tried to run out. Only Rafe had dragged him back.
    “Well, he wasn’t working for me . We didn’t discuss our personnel with each other.”
    He dismissed her answer and went on to yet another topic. “What were you thinking when you agreed to have a voodoo ceremony in your restaurant?”
    “I was thinking it would bring in new customers.”
    “How did that work out for you?”
    She sidestepped the question with, “Voodoo is a legitimate religion.”
    He laughed. “Yeah, and my mother is the Virgin Mary.”
    When she didn’t respond, he asked, `“What’s your financial arrangement with Ms. Lacoste?”
    “What does that have to do with anything?”
    “Are you refusing to answer?
    “We split the cover charge.”
    “So you’re having a religious ceremony, but you charge admission. Isn’t that more like a sideshow?”
    “Revival meetings pass the hat. In this case, the money covers the cost of the food—and the . . .” She started to say “entertainment” but switched to “attendants.”
    “How long have you been holding these ceremonies at your restaurant?”
    “Nine months.”
    “It looks like they brought you bad luck.”
    She had had the same thought herself. Moreover, she knew he was baiting her.
    While she was mulling that over, he asked, “Did you make an attempt to keep people away from the victim?”
    “Of course. Except for Rafe . . . Mr. Gascon. He’s trained in CPR.”
    “The two of you have a history, don’t you?”
    “We knew each other when we were younger. We haven’t been in touch in years.”
    “Strange that he showed up tonight.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “I guess we’ll find out.”
    “Are you trying to say we cooked up some plot?”
    “Did you?”
    Eugenia answered with an emphatic “Of course not.”
    Cumberland kept his gaze on her for a long moment before