But Detective Rivera was smart.
I could see her looking at me carefully, studying my face for signs that I was lying.
“Mrs. Martinez, I’m going to need you to come to the station tomorrow for a more detailed interview. This appears to be a suspicious death, and we need to investigate thoroughly.”
After the police left and Marcus’s body was taken away, I sat alone in our house, feeling scared for the first time.
What if they thought I had poisoned him?
What if they didn’t believe my story?
The next morning, I went to the police station in downtown Chicago with a lawyer.
Detective Rivera sat across from me in a small room with gray walls and asked me the same questions over and over again.
“Mrs. Martinez, your husband died from arsenic poisoning. That’s not something that happens by accident. Someone deliberately put poison in his food.”
