Chapter 16 - The Interrogation
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Late that evening, I sat behind the two-way mirror in Interrogation Room 3 at the Phoenix Police Department, watching Detective Miller question Pamela.
Pamela sat slumped in her metal chair, her makeup smeared, stripped of her designer clothes and clad in a orange detention jumpsuit.
“The state medical examiner completed the specialized toxicology report on Beatrice Mercer’s preserved tissue samples two hours ago,” Miller said, placing a thick folder on the metal table. “The results showed lethal concentrations of synthetic digitalis derivatives.”
Pamela stared at the floor, refusing to speak.
“We also found the financial ledger in your home safe detailing payments made to an overseas account in the Cayman Islands,” Miller continued relentlessly. “Payments that began three weeks before Beatrice’s death.”
Pamela’s shoulders began to heave. She looked up, her eyes hollow and filled with pure malice.
“She had everything,” Pamela spat, her voice dripping with poison. “Beatrice Mercer had an easy life, a rich family, a handsome husband, a beautiful daughter, and a seven-million-dollar beach house she didn't even have to work for! Why did she deserve all of that while I had to struggle for every penny?”
I stared through the glass, listening to the bitter truth of her depravity.
“So you murdered her?” Miller asked.
“I took what should have been mine!” Pamela shrieked, slamming her cuffed hands against the table. “And if that stupid little girl hadn't opened her mouth, I would have had all of it!”
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I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the cold glass wall, feeling a profound sense of relief mix with the lingering grief for the years lost to a monster’s deception.
She had finally confessed.
