Chapter 3 - What the Cameras Showed
Paramedics first, then two police officers. Detective Renata Reyes — tall, short dark hair, no-nonsense — started asking questions the second the paramedics confirmed Marcus was dead.
"Mrs. Martinez, can you walk me through what happened tonight?"
I'd rehearsed this. "We were having dinner. Just soup, bread, nothing unusual. About thirty minutes after we ate, Marcus said he didn't feel well. Then he collapsed and started shaking. I've never seen anything like it."
She wrote it all down. "Any health issues? Heart problems, allergies?"
"No. He had a physical last month. Everything was fine."
She scanned the kitchen, photographed everything, bagged our soup bowls and the pot.
"I have to ask — were you two having any problems? Fighting, anything like that?"
The moment I'd been dreading. "No. We were happy. He was proud of my business. Always supportive."
But Detective Reyes was sharp. I could feel her studying my face for cracks.
"I'll need you to come to the station tomorrow for a full interview. This is a suspicious death. We have to investigate."
After they took the body and left, I sat alone in the house, genuinely scared for the first time all night.
What if they thought I did it?
The next morning I went downtown with a lawyer. Detective Reyes sat across from me in a small gray room and asked the same questions three different ways.
"Your husband died of arsenic poisoning, Mrs. Martinez. That doesn't happen by accident. Somebody put it in his food on purpose."
"I don't understand," I said, playing confused. "Who would want to hurt Marcus? He was such a good man."
"That's what we're trying to figure out. Enemies? Anyone who wanted him gone?"
"Everyone loved Marcus."
Then I let myself "remember."
"Wait — there is something. I've been sick for months. Stomach problems, my hair falling out, exhausted all the time. My doctor couldn't find anything."
She leaned forward. "What are you saying?"
"What if someone was trying to poison me, and Marcus ate the wrong bowl by mistake?"
I watched the gears turn behind her eyes.
"Do you have any idea who'd want to hurt you?"
This was it. "I've been having problems with my sister, Priya. She's always been jealous of my success. And lately she's been spending a lot of time with Marcus when I'm not home."
I pulled out my phone and showed her the footage.
"I put in cameras. I was suspicious about their relationship."
She watched Marcus and Priya plan my murder in real time, her eyes going wider with every minute.
"Mrs. Martinez. This changes everything. Your husband and your sister were planning to kill you."
"I can't believe it," I said, and let real tears come, finally, after everything. "My own sister and my husband wanted me dead."
She was on her feet fast. "We need to find her immediately. Do you know where she might be?"
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I gave them her address, her job, her number.
Two hours later, they arrested Priya at O'Hare, trying to board a flight to Mexico on a fake passport with fifty thousand dollars in cash — stolen straight out of my business accounts.
