POISON IN THE EMERALD HALLS

Inside the interrogation room of the central precinct, the air was stale and heavy with the scent of cheap burnt coffee. Detective Miller tossed a thick manila folder onto the metal table, leaning forward with his sleeves rolled up.

""It doesn't look good for you, Vance,"" Miller said, tapping a glossy photograph showing Eleanor Vance sprawled on the marble landing, a dark pool of blood staining her silver hair. ""Sterling says you threatened to end her life for interfering with your wife. Ten minutes later, she takes a header down thirty marble steps. You vanished before the ambulance arrived.""

Julian leaned back in his chair, his hands cuffed to the steel ring on the table. He showed no agitation, his pulse steady, his mind dissecting the timeline like a chess grandmaster.

""What time was the 911 call logged, Detective?"" Julian asked evenly.

""Eleven forty-two PM.""

""And what time did your patrol car encounter me outside Warehouse 4 at the Blackwood Docks?""

Miller frowned, flipping through the arrest logs. ""Eleven forty-eight.""

""Blackwood Docks is sixteen miles from the Vance Manor through heavy storm traffic,"" Julian stated coldly. ""Even in an empty highway, that drive takes twenty-two minutes. If my mother fell at eleven forty-two, it is physically impossible for me to have pushed her and arrived at the docks six minutes later.""

Miller paused, squinting at the paperwork. ""Sterling swore he saw you running down the front steps.""

""Sterling lied,"" Julian said. ""Because Sterling was the one who pushed her. Check the gate logs for his town car. Check his driver’s dashcam. And more importantly, check the phone in my pocket. You'll find a direct audio recording of my entire conversation with Victor Vance and Marcus Henderson at the docks, transmitted live to the federal prosecutor's office.""

Miller’s eyes widened slightly. ""Federal?""

Before the detective could respond, the heavy steel door swung open. A tall woman in a sharp charcoal suit stepped inside, carrying a leather briefcase with the Department of Justice seal.

""Detective Miller, uncuff Mr. Vance immediately,"" the federal attorney announced, placing a signed court order on the table. ""Julian Vance is our primary federal witness against an international syndicate involving Victor Vance and Arthur Sterling. You are holding him on fabricated evidence.""

Miller looked between the attorney and Julian, cursing under his breath before retrieving his key and unlocking the cuffs.

Julian rubbed his wrists, rising to his feet with an aura of absolute dominance. ""What is the time, counsel?""