Elixir by Ruth Vincent Page B

on the sidewalk, outside Obadiah’s establishment. But instead, Eva was found in the middle of the street, at least ten feet from the sidewalk.”
    His eyes narrowed. “In order for her to land in the middle of the street, there would have had to be another force acting on her body, enough to propel her an additional ten feet.”
    I saw where he was going with this now, and yet I didn’t know how to stop it.
    “I don’t think Eva Morales fell by accident,” said Detective Foster.
    I was hyperventilating. I knew what he was about to say.
    “I think Eva Morales was pushed.”
    “That’s not true!” I protested. “I would never, ever do that to anyone, certainly not my best friend.”
    I looked imploringly up at Foster. But his arms were crossed over his chest and there was a hard, cold expression on his face. I could tell he didn’t believe me in the least.
    My mind was whirling, trying to think of any way out of this, any explanation other than the truth—that Eva had flown.
    “I bet you didn’t find any skid marks in the snow on the roof either,” I said at last.
    Foster eyed me keenly.
    “You didn’t find signs of a struggle on the roof.”
    Foster uncrossed his arm and sighed.
    “That is correct,” he said at last, “but it doesn’t matter. Here’s what I think happened, Miss Jones. I think you and your boyfriend, Obadiah, put something in Eva’s drink. You drugged her, and then you carried her up to the roof of the building. Then you threw her off with such force that she landed in the middle of the street. You were intending to kill her . . .”
    “That’s not true!” How could he think I would try to murder my best friend? “I’m worried sick about Eva right now. I just want to be out of this room, so I can go to the hospital and check on her.”
    My heart was pounding in my chest. As much as I knew we were innocent, I had to admit, I could see how this must appear from Foster’s perspective. In his mind there could be no explanation other than that we pushed Eva off the roof. How could I convince him otherwise?
    I had an idea.
    “Look at me,” I said to the detective. “I’m four feet, eleven inches tall.” I gestured to my petite frame. “Do I seem like someone who could carry a person up three flights of stairs and throw them off a roof?”
    The detective scrutinized me. His mouth was still set in the same hard, impassive line, but something had changed in his eyes. He was trying to hide it, but I could see that he’d been asking himself the same question.
    “No, but I bet your friend Obadiah could,” he said.
    It was true. Obadiah could have carried Eva with ease. Except that he hadn’t.
    “I was with Obadiah the whole time. He was standing next to me. He never touched Eva. He’d never even seen her before, until he saw her on the ground.”
    The detective folded his hands. There was a beat of silence between us, and I could hear the fluorescent light buzzing over our heads.
    “How do you know your roommate had never met Obadiah before?” he asked.
    “I just told her about his club tonight. She came because she was worried about me. They didn’t know each other.”
    “But she could be lying,” countered Foster.
    “I guess . . . but I don’t think so. She was only there tonight because she was trying to rescue me . . .”
    Foster unfolded his hands and leaned forward, closer to me. The expression on his face and his whole demeanor changed. There was a sympathetic look in his eyes, which had been so hard and cold moments before. When he spoke, his voice was soft.
    “Listen, Mabily. I don’t believe any of this was your idea. I know you care about your friend, and you’re devastated by what happened. I’m sure you didn’t want any part of this. But Obadiah Savage”—his eyes narrowed—“he’s very persuasive, isn’t he? He intimidated you? Threatened you?”
    I could see where Foster was going with this. He was trying to be good cop and bad cop at once. I