Page 136 of Bene

“If I had any say,” Vanna muttered, “Mario Detti wouldn’t be my fiancé, for one.”

The detective narrowed his gaze, rounding the table to pull out the metal chair on the other side so he could take a seat. “And their business?”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

Mostly true.

“So, you wouldn’t know anything about the shipment of heroin we just picked up at the Niagara Falls border crossing that was coming to an address of a warehouse owned by your future father-in-law?”

Vanna’s jaw ticked. “Can’t say I do, no.”

All lies.

She stumbled upon that information during one of the clan’s many family dinners, which she then snatched someone’s phone, took a bunch of pictures, and sent it off to Bene to do with it what he could, if he even wanted to. That had been two weeks ago, or a little more.

“Are you also unaware of Mario Detti’s connection to Constable Keefs, who he was paying a large sum of money to monthly in order to keep the detective from passing over the information he had on the illegal dealings of the Detti family to his superiors and the team of investigators he was working with for the Guzzi investigation?”

Her face stayed passive.

Still like stone.

“No, I don’t,” Vanna said quietly, “sorry.”

The man nodded. He flipped through a paper in the folder on the table, and then another. The silence stretched on, causing her nerves to grow tight with every passing second. Was that his point? She hated to tell him, but this wasn’t even her worst experience of the day.

“And you’re going to deny that you were the informant for Constable Keefs investigation into the Guzzi Cosa Nostra, as well?”

“What would it matter, if I even was?”

“It wouldn’t,” the man replied, “except with Constable Keefs being caught up in this bribery scandal with the Detti organization … well, his word is unreliable, and any prosecutor worth his weight wouldn’t dare to put him on the stand. And without a cooperating informant to confirm the information pulled from Gian Guzzi’s home, as we only have digital photographs and recordings that could have been faked, with the right programs, well—”

“His charges will be dropped.”

“Most,” the man agreed, “yes. Unless, Miss Falco, you have something you would like to tell me.”

Did she?

Absolutely not.

“I can’t say that I do,” she replied.

As though that was the answer he expected, Constable Andrews dropped the folder to the table, and sat back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Well, then I’m very sorry for wasting your time today. You’ll be allowed to gather your belongings, and an officer will escort you out of the station whenever you’re ready to go. Unfortunately, your fiancé and many others in his family won’t get the same treatment … seems we have quite enough on them currently to keep them right where they are.”

Oh?

Vanna almost smiled.

“Shame, that,” she whispered.

Yeah, a real fucking shame.

Under the table, her hands stayed flat to her stomach. Protecting the growing life there. Hiding the proof of her baby away from the rest of the world.

What would happen now?

She had no clue.

“At least, they let you get out of that monster of a dress.”