Wicked After Midnight(98)
“Sergeants Bonchance and Legrand, questioning Mademoiselle Demi Ward, also known as La Demitasse, regarding the events of March nine,” the older gendarme said loudly and clearly, glancing at the window in the door in a way that told me we had a witness.
“Please proceed,” a metallic voice boomed through a rudimentary speaker.
“Mademoiselle Ward, please tell us everything that happened on the night of March nine.”
And I told them, conveniently leaving out the bit about having the hottest sex of my life with a costumed brigand in a private alcove. When I got to the moment when the copper elephant ripped free of its moorings and began to charge through the streets, the younger gendarme, Legrand, raised a hand.
“Mademoiselle, just to clarify, could you please tell us why you were to meet the prince in this pachyderm?” The nasty quirk of his thin lips told me to tread carefully.
“I have no idea what he might have had in mind, monsieur. I was merely asked to pay my respects to a visiting dignitary.”
“On your knees, mademoiselle?”
I smiled sweetly. “I’m a citizen of Almanica, monsieur. I kneel to no one.”
“So you’re saying no money changed hands? That there was no understanding?”
“Not with me. I had barely spoken twenty words to the prince beforehand. Whatever expectations he might have had are his own business. But pray tell, Monsieur Legrand, how does this apply to my attempted kidnapping?”
“That’s Sergeant Legrand,” the smaller man growled.
Bonchance put a kindly hand on his arm. “Let’s get back on track, lad.” He gave me a sympathetic look. “Now, can you tell us how you incapacitated your kidnapper?”
Another saccharine smile. “I hit him twice in the head with a heavy wrench. I assume that self-defense isn’t yet against the law?”
Bonchance shook his head no, but Legrand leaned avidly forward.
“Interesting. But how did the gentleman in question come to be exsanguinated?”
My nostrils flared, and I put up a gloved hand. Funny, how I’d never had so much power before now, the first time I’d been a minority. And I wasn’t taking his shit. “Please, monsieur. If I might ask a question? Would you be interrogating me if you thought I had killed him with the wrench? Or a knife? Or any other weapon at hand?”
“That question is not pertinent—”
“An attorney might think it is.”
Legrand went silent, and Bonchance stroked his mustache.
The older cop leaned forward, speaking out of the side of his mouth as if we shared a secret. “You must understand, mademoiselle, that as Bludmen are rare in Paris, this is a new conundrum for us. Technically speaking, it is against the law to drink from a human. But if it was self-defense against someone who clearly meant you harm, we must consider it carefully.”
“Messieurs, I beg you. Please remember, during your deliberations, that I was trapped in a very small, dark room with a man who had already tried to kidnap me.” I blinked, letting my eyes tear up. “And I’m also fairly certain that the crash had damaged him internally. Do you have any idea who that madman was?”
Legrand scoffed. “This is a police investigation, mademoiselle, not your personal gossip mill.”
I sat up straighter, dropping the doe-eyed act. “I have a right to know the identity of my attacker.”
“That remains to be seen.”
“And I’d also like to discuss the disappearance of my dear friend Cherie, who was abducted by slavers on the road to Ruin.”
“That is not part of the current investigation,” Legrand snapped.
Bonchance added, “And only the city of Paris itself is in our jurisdiction, you see.”
“You’ll not even take a statement? Not even send out a bulletin with her information?”
Legrand looked as if he might spit again. “The whereabouts of . . . cabaret girls is not our top priority. Girls disappear frequently, mostly as a result of the unsavory habits of your lifestyle. If we spent our time chasing down every loose woman who fell on hard times, we wouldn’t have time to investigate important things, like murders. We’re the ones asking the questions, mademoiselle; you’d do well to remember that.”
I stood, the chair clattering to the ground behind me. “I’m sorry, but are you telling me that you’re satisfied to let slavers kidnap innocent travelers? And that when a madman kidnaps me in a giant machine, I’m not only prevented from knowing his name, but I’m also on trial for killing him in self-defense? Because I’d like to speak to a lawyer. Attorney. Barrister. Whatever you call it in this insane excuse for a justice system.”