Aces and Knaves

Detective Washington wrote in her notebook.
    Arrow looked as if she was going to argue, but she changed her mind and said, "I notice that you wrote 'black' beside my name. I am of mixed race."
    "Do you have any black blood in you?"
    "Yes, but..."
    "Then you are black as far as I am concerned, Honey. I am told that I have a white man somewhere in my past, probably a slave owner, but I am black, do you hear me?"
    Arrow was smart enough to shut up at that point and Detective Washington escorted me from the waiting room to an interrogation room. I knew from reading books that the mirror in one wall was a window on the other side. She was also openly recording the session, but it was all in vain because I had nothing to add to what I had already told her.
    She asked me to go over what I had done from the time I had left the hotel until I had been admitted to the Buchanan house—a period of over an hour. I had no witnesses, of course, but at least I told a consistent story. I figured that if I remained cool she would not try to link me to the drugs in the car.
    I also made sure to emphasize that I didn't believe Ned was a drug dealer. When we had arrived at the Hertz office we had placed our bags in the back seat of the car and hadn't opened the trunk, although I had to admit it was unlikely the cocaine was already there. After a half hour of repeating myself, I asked, "Isn't it a little ridiculous to try to foist a drug charge on Mr. Mackay when there was nothing in his house?"
    Detective Washington said, emphasizing her words, "The fact remains that there was cocaine in his rental car."
    "But that could have been planted by the murderer."
    "The car was locked and the keys were in Mr. Mackay's pocket. The trunk of the car had not been forced open."
    “If the murder was drug-related, why didn’t the murderers take the cocaine?”
    “Any number of reasons.”
    Which were? She didn’t elaborate. I tried again. "Do you think he was buying or selling?"
    "With the amount he had, he must have been dealing."
    "Did he test positive for drugs?"
    "No," Detective Washington admitted.
    "Aren't most dealers users?"
    "There's a definite correlation. But before you turn into the interrogator and me into the interrogatee, I have some more questions for you. Did you know Mr. Mackay was carrying a gun?"
    "No! You didn't say anything about that before." It had not been in the news, either.
    "After we found the cocaine in the car, we went back and did a thorough search of the area where Mr. Mackay's body was found. The gun was in the dumpster where we found him. A nine-millimeter Beretta. It is registered to Mr. Mackay."
    "And it's...it's the murder weapon?"
    "No. Mr. Mackay's gun had not been fired."
    "But...but how could he have gotten it through airport security?"
    "Guns have been known to slip through security," Detective Washington said, dryly. "They disguise themselves as underwear. Did you check any bags before you got on the plane?"
    "No, we only had one bag apiece. We carried them on."
    Detective Washington tried to jog my memory concerning the gun, but the attempt failed. If her plan was to shake me up it succeeded, but you can't get milk out of a bull. Finally, she gave up and let me go—for the moment.
    I guess my face gives away my feelings, for just as Esther could tell when I was upset, Arrow spotted it as soon as I returned to the waiting room. When we went outside she said, “Well, what did that bitch want?”
    I filled her in. When we got in the rental car she pulled out her cell phone and said, "I have to keep our attorney informed of everything I find out. He has requested a copy of the autopsy report but he needs to know about the gun."
    When she hung up I said, "That pretty much clinches the case against poor Ned. If he wasn't involved in something shady, why would he be carrying a gun? I don't know what an attorney can do to help him now."
    "Elma believes Ned is innocent and I believe Elma," Arrow said, defiantly. "And I know Ned. He isn't the type to get mixed up in drugs. But the job of the attorney is to protect the reputation of Dionysus, too."
    "It can't get any lower than it is now." Which is why I had bought the company's stock. Buy when blood is running in the streets. And it was—literally.
    We drove to the hotel and checked in. It was the same one Ned had stayed at. I was moving up in the world. We ate a light lunch in a cafe down the street and discussed what to do next. We eliminated the possibility