The Seventh Sons (Sycamore Moon Series Book 1) Read Free Page B

detective gave a heavy sigh and melted into the seat.
    "How's my bike?" Diego's slight Hispanic accent was well-integrated and hard to place.
    "It's fine," Maxim replied. He wasn't very familiar with motorcycles, but he did note the conditions of the accident vehicles for his report. "You laid it down and scratched it up but it's good to go."
    The door opened meekly and Gutierrez popped his head in. "Yo, that's another thing. Do you think I can ride that bike one day? It is dope."
    "Gutierrez!" Maxim glared and the rookie disappeared again.
    Diego could not hide his smile. "It's a beautiful machine, isn't it? A brand new Triumph Scrambler. It really stands out from the pack."
    That was something else the detective had noticed. The other club members opted for old Harleys.
    "Okay, let's start this off. This is Detective Maxim Dwyer," he recited in monotone, looking back at the camera although barely concerned if he was actually within frame, "interviewing suspect one in the Sycamore Lodge stabbing." The detective nonchalantly turned to his companion and leaned in. "Please state your name, for the record."
    The prisoner's face brightened ever so slightly, as if the game were afoot. Maxim recognized the sign as either deceptive or playful, thinking Diego didn't realize the magnitude of trouble he was in. Did he think he could just walk away from all of this?
    The man answered with a proud flair, exaggerating his accent as the name rolled off his tongue. "Diego de la Torre, sir." The prisoner even bowed his head slightly, like he was the star in his own play.
    Maxim rested his back against the inflexible chair and put his right foot on his knee. Where was he to start?
    "You've previously mentioned arriving at Sycamore Lodge at about ten o'clock. Is that correct?"
    "That is."
    "And what were you doing there?"
    "Oh," Diego said, shaking his head as if the reason were unclear. "I suppose the same as everybody else."
    "Meaning you were looking for trouble?"
    Diego chuckled. "Trouble, perhaps, but not the sort you're interested in."
    Maxim studied the man's body language. Diego had appeared very frayed before, and back in the clinic, he'd had an insistence about him, almost like some of the drug addicts the detective had occasionally arrested. But locked up down here, the prisoner was the perfect model of composure. Maxim hoped this change in demeanor didn't reflect a shift in the man's desire to be forthcoming.
    "According to eyewitnesses, the two we've got upstairs were drinking for hours before you showed up. They both exceeded the legal limit of alcohol in their blood, but you tested completely negative."
    "Maybe I don't drink," posited the suspect.
    "They say it's hard to trust a man who doesn't drink—"
    "Would you trust me more if I admitted to lying about it?"
    Maxim sighed as he watched the upturned corners of Diego's mouth open into a wide grin. Not only was the suspect wasting the detective's time, but he was having fun doing it. Maxim should have known this wasn't going to be an automatic confession.
    "Diego, I would trust you more if you didn't hide behind clever banter. You told me you wanted to confess. So what is it exactly that you have to say to me?"
    The suspect had no immediate answer. He looked at the bare walls, examining all four of them. Maxim closed his eyes and rubbed them as he realized what Diego was searching for. The detective reached into his jacket's breast pocket and placed his phone face up on the table. "Five minutes till three."
    "Then we still have about ten minutes."
    "Good. How about we drop the werewolf thing until then and keep talking about the case?"
    Diego's lips covered his large teeth as they closed to form an inquisitive pout. "Aren't you at all intrigued?"
    Maxim didn't blink. "If this is all you want to offer me, then I'll lock you back to your bed and head home."
    The prisoner's black eyes drilled into the detective's face. Maxim's abiding stare was all that returned. After a moment,