“So, either you sent your wife the text from that phone in an attempt to cover it up, or someone else from the Tribune having access to that phone sent it. Again, in an attempt to cover it up.”
Quickly rising from her seat, Sam spoke up. “Okay Brandon, I really think it’s time for us to go. This is getting ridiculous.”
After eyeing her up and down, Martinez kept his poker face and turned his eyes back to Brandon.
Meeting his gaze with a look of confusion, the wrinkles in Brandon’s forehead began to diminish as the pieces fell into place for him. His squinted eyes turned to Sam and looked up to her, dumbfounded. “It was you.”
Her heart began to pound beneath her firm chest. She grabbed her bag from the back of the chair and swung it around her shoulder. “I said it’s time to go Brandon.” She pushed in her chair and shot her eyes at Martinez defensively. “You’re a real piece of work, Detective.”
Brandon stood up and blocked her from leaving. “You crazy bitch. This whole time it was you.”
Guilt washed over her. “Brandon, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
He began backing her into the corner. “I’m afraid I know exactly what I’m saying. You came up with my alibi. You begged me to go along with you. That wasn’t for my protection.” Poking his finger into her chest, he declared, “It was for your own. Wasn’t it, Sam? For God’s sake, you seduced me on the day of her funeral!”
Standing out of preparation for the fallout, Martinez put his hand on his weapon but he didn’t interfere.
Fear washed over her face as he towered over her. She batted her long, thick lashes at him as she looked up into his fierce eyes. “Brandon, please don’t let him fill your head with this bullshit!”
Without taking his eyes off of her, Brandon stood nose to nose with her and stated confidently, “Detective, I’m sorry I lied to you about my alibi. I’m also sorry I didn’t see this all before. I wasn’t with Sam. I was home alone. I got home that night around seven thirty. Pam was already gone. And then I got her text saying she would be at her sisters. That’s all I know.” The relief permeated from his breath.
Grabbing her chest trying to breath, Sam finally broke and screamed at him, “You stupid son of a bitch! She didn’t deserve you!” She smacked him across the face and met his shock with malevolence in her gaze. “I sent Pam that text. I met her down at the docks and told her what a worthless, piece of shit wife she was. I followed her and Damian for months while you sat around and gave two shits. She couldn’t even admit what a whore she was. Kept telling me it was none of my business and pushing me to get out of her way. And now she can rot in hell!”
Brandon grabbed Sam’s flailing arms trying to stave off the attack. Martinez quickly circled the table, managing to get her hands behind her so he could cuff her. As he secured the handcuffs, Brandon slid against the wall to the other side of the room, bewildered, as she was escorted out.
Martinez walked her out of the interview room towards the station door as he recited the charges against her. “Miss Samantha Brown, you’re under arrest for assault. You’re also under arrest for the murder of Pamela DeFranco. You have the right to remain silent...”
Every extremity of Brandon’s was frozen. He stood against the wall as she screamed back to him, “I sacrificed everything for you!”
Martinez led Sam through the door and down the hall to the first available holding cell. Removing the cuffs from her and shutting the cell door behind him he looked at her frail frame and shook his head in disbelief. “Sit tight. You’ve got nothing but time now.”
Sam wrung her wrists as if the cuffs were too tight and she glared in his direction, her under eyes smeared with mascara. Sitting down on the metal bench she grunted, “I need to make a phone call.” He walked away without responding. She jumped up from her seated position and ran to the cell bars, grabbing onto them with both of her hands. “I need to make a phone call!”
He continued walking away. When he reached the door to the lobby he heard an ear-piercing scream. Attempting to ignore it, he returned to the interview room. Brandon was sitting at the table with his head in his hands. “Mr. DeFranco?” He looked up, disoriented. His face was flush and his eyes appeared red. Sitting down across from him, Martinez was sincere. “I’m sorry, Mr. DeFranco. I don’t think either one of us was expecting that.”
Masking his inner turmoil with a deceptive calmness Brandon asked, “Am I okay to leave?”
Understanding he needed some time after the unfolding of recent events, Martinez nodded to him. “I hope you realize I’m going to need you to answer some questions in the near future.”
Before walking out the door, Brandon turned to him. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’ll have my full cooperation.”
Reaching into his pocket to grab his phone, Martinez dialed Elizabeth. She answered immediately. “Hola, guapo.”
He grinned from ear to ear. “Aye, me Beleza Blanca. I have news for you.”
“Let me guess; you’re waiting naked for me with wine and pizza?”
“Oh how I wish! I got one better for ya. Well, kinda. I made an arrest in Pam DeFranco’s murder.”
“Wow, seriously?”
“Serious as a heart attack baby doll. Samantha Brown is being processed as we speak,” he said proudly. “You can go ahead and call the family. Let them know we still have some unanswered questions, so they can be filled in on all the details beginning of next week. But the arraignment should be first thing tomorrow morning.”
Her voice showed her bewilderment. “Samantha
