All These Things I've Done (Birthright #1)(29)

‘Sir, this is an attempted murder investigation, and Ms Balanchine’s treatment has been entirely appropriate,’ Frappe said.

‘Debatable,’ said Mr Kipling. ‘Questioning a minor at school without either a guardian or counsel present seems a bit borderline to me. Personally, I can’t help but wonder why the NYPD’s insisting on calling a kid with an upset stomach an attempted murder investigation.’

‘That kid’s in a coma. He may die, Mr Kipling. I’d like to continue questioning Ms Balanchine as time is of the essence here,’ Frappe said.

Mr Kipling nodded.

‘Ms Balanchine, when is the last time you saw Gable Arsley?’ Frappe asked.

‘Sunday night,’ I said. ‘He came over to my apartment.’

‘Why did he come over?’ Frappe asked.

‘He said he felt bad about what had happened between us and that he wanted us to still be friends.’

‘Anything else?’ she asked. ‘Was there any other reason he came over?’

I could see where this was going.

The chocolate.

Of course, it was the chocolate. It was always the chocolate. I had only wanted Leo to destroy it because it was illegal to have it in your possession and I hadn’t wanted to cause any trouble for my family if the cops should decide to search our place. But what if the police thought I had poisoned Gable with chocolate? Then it might look like I had instructed my brother to destroy evidence. I should have thought of this before. I should have thought things through better, but there really hadn’t been time. Everything had happened so quickly.

And, in my defence, Gable Arsley wasn’t exactly a Boy Scout. He was a wealthy glutton and a habitual connoisseur of contraband substances. Who knew what he had gotten himself into? Plus, I had no reason to doubt the integrity of Balanchine chocolate. Though I had lived with chocolate being illegal my whole life, I had never once worried about it being poisoned. Daddy had always been so vigilant about quality control, but then, Daddy hadn’t been running Balanchine Chocolate for a very long time.

‘Ms Balanchine,’ Frappe repeated.

The only thing to do was be honest. ‘Yes, there was another reason. Gable wanted to know if I had chocolate.’

‘Did you?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

Frappe whispered something to Jones.

Mr Kipling said, ‘Before you two go getting all excited, I’d like to remind you that the Balanchine family has ties to the chocolate import-export business. They produce a line of chocolate bars under the name Balanchine Special, which are available in Russia and Europe, where chocolate is still legal. It’s only natural that some of the product ends up here on occasion, so I don’t find it unusual that Ms Balanchine should be in possession of chocolate.’

‘It is if the person she gave it to ended up poisoned,’ Jones remarked.

‘Oh, you talk too now?’ Mr Kipling asked. ‘Even if Mr Arsley was poisoned, what proof do you have that the poison came from the chocolate? The poison could have been on or in anything.’

Frappe smiled before she said, ‘Actually, we know with one hundred per cent certainty that the chocolate was the source of the poison. When Ms Balanchine set out to poison Mr Arsley, she gave him two bars of chocolate.’

‘Your girl was nothing if not thorough,’ Jones said.

‘She gave him two bars of chocolate, but Mr Arsley only ate one,’ Frappe continued. ‘His mother found the other bar in his room, and it was immediately sent to the lab, where it was found to contain a massive amount of Fretoxin.’

‘You know what Fretoxin does to a person, Anya?’ Jones asked. ‘Starts with a stomach ache. You don’t even feel that sick.’

‘Poor kid. He probably thought that he had the flu,’ Frappe interjected.

‘But wait, it gets better,’ Jones continued. ‘Delay getting treatment too long and ulcers start to form in the stomach and intestines. Your liver and spleen shut down, then other organs fail, too. Meanwhile, cysts have started sprouting up all over the skin. Ultimately, your body can’t take it any more. You’ll either have a fatal heart attack or maybe sepsis from the many infections that are raging inside of you. It’s a total system-wide shutdown, and the sad part is, you won’t care. You’ll be praying to God to end it.’

‘You’d have to really hate a person to do that, wouldn’t you?’ Frappe asked.

‘Just the way you hated Gable Arsley,’ Jones finished.

‘I don’t know how that got in there! I would never poison Gable!’ I yelled. But even as I was yelling, part of me knew it was pointless. This wasn’t getting fixed today.

After they took my fingerprints and picture, I was locked in an isolated cell in the police station. This accommodation was only for the night. The next afternoon, a juvenile court judge would decide what to do with me while I awaited trial for the attempted murder of Gable Arsley and the lesser charge of possession of an illegal substance. Mr Kipling thought they’d probably just send me back to my house with a tracker embedded in my shoulder as I didn’t have any prior offences. ‘Maybe you’ll have to stay with me and Keisha for a bit if the judge doesn’t think your grandma’s up to watching you.’ Keisha was Mr Kipling’s wife.

‘She wouldn’t mind that?’