Detective Angela Graham was exhausted. Exhausted and furious. Just after waking that morning, she’d checked her Twitter account as was her custom, and that was when she had first heard the news. At first she had been angry, then sad, then determined. If there was any way that she could help to solve the heinous crime, she would.
A few hours later, she had come in early to finish up some paperwork. With her iPod cued loudly to her favorite playlist, she had almost missed the call on her desk’s phone. Less than a minute after that call had ended, she had contacted the two officers on patrol. An hour later, Brielle Magnus was in the station waiting to be questioned. A closeted Hanson fan since 1997, Detective Graham had been listening to their music when she’d heard that a prime suspect in Taylor’s attempted murder was in her city.
It had taken a bit of convincing, but she had eventually talked her boss into letting her take over the case. Of course, he had no idea that she was a Hanson fan and therefore had a personal interest and investment in the well-being of the band’s members. As far as she was concerned, there was no reason for him to ever find out. It certainly wasn’t something that she made a habit of broadcasting, but they were her favorite band and had been for years. And, if this Michigan Avenue princess had anything to do with it, Detective Graham had every intention of bringing her down.
With Brielle Magnus’ long blonde hair, perfect manicure, and designer clothing, she was an obvious specimen of a spoiled little rich girl. The sighs and occasional eye rolls she had been doing ever since she was seated in the interrogation room were only further painting her personality Detective Graham’s mind.
She took a look at the file in front of her to remind herself of a few details, breathed deeply, and began.
“So Miss Magnus, why don’t you start out by telling me how you met Taylor Hanson,” Detective Graham said, smoothing a hand over her equally blonde, but less impeccably maintained hair. Brielle’s wide blue eyes rolled slightly and she sat back in her chair.
“We met after one of his shows here in the city,” Brielle explained as she examined her cuticles, “I went with some friends, and one of them wanted to hang out by the busses after the show. Taylor and I got to talking, and I gave him my number.”
“Was that the only time you two saw each other?” Brielle laughed and finally raised her gaze to meet Detective Graham’s.
“No. He called me later that night, and we hooked up at my place,” she explained.
“Hooked up?” Detective Graham asked, wanting clarification.
“Had sex,” Brielle said as casually as if she’d said that they had watched a movie or had taken a walk, “They were in Chicago a few weeks later and he called me again asking if we could get together.” She paused, then added clearly with the sole intention of mocking Detective Graham’s previous request for clarification. “For sex.”
As much as she wanted to rough the girl up for being so snotty, instead, Detective Graham simply unclenched her jaw, inhaled loudly through her nose, and continued with her line of questioning.
“So that was the basis of your relationship with Mr. Hanson?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t call it a relationship,” Brielle snorted, again invested in the state of manicure.
“Then what would you call it?”
“We were fuck buddies,” Brielle shrugged, “We don’t have anything in common other than the fact that we like the way each other looks, and we both like to have sex. That’s it. I hate their music. He hates my personality. It was purely physical.”
Detective Brown felt her teeth gnash against each other at Brielle’s disparaging remark about their music and again tried to get her emotions under control. It was about finding who was responsible for Taylor’s poisoning, she reminded herself. That was all.
“He told you that he hated your personality?” Brielle chucked bitterly.
“Pretty much. But he’s a self-important douchebag, and I told him as much. We’re really better off not talking to each other, if you catch my drift.”
“So, how long did this arrangement you had with Mr. Hanson go on?”
“We met three years ago, and we saw each other at least nine or ten times a year. Whenever he’d come here to Chicago he’d come stay at my place, and there were a few times that he flew me out to see him.”
“He paid for you to fly to where he was?”
“What can I say?” Brielle smiled, leaning back in her chair, “What we do when we’re together is well worth the airfare.”
“It sounds like your relationship had its set boundaries, but I’m assuming that something went wrong,” Detective Brown said.
“And why is that?”
“Because you’re a member of a private Facebook group titled ‘Taylor Hanson Must Die.’ Given what you’ve told me, I don’t see why you would have that opinion of him, other than not particularly caring for his personality at times.”
“More like all the time,” Brielle said, “But yes, something did happen.”
“He broke your heart?”
“Not hardly. I mean it when I say that our relationship was purely physical. The only thing I cared about when it came to him was his level of skill in the bedroom. I could give a shit about his feelings, especially if he had any for me,” Brielle started, “Let’s just say that there came a point when I had no desire to ever see him again.”
“What happened?” Detective Graham said, taking the bait. She didn’t understand why some people took so damned long to spit out a simple answer to a question.
“The mother fucker gave me syphilis,” Brielle spat out, “I had to call every one of my past sexual partners to tell them. It was humiliating, and he had told me that he was clean.”
“Were you having unprotected sex with him?”
“God no. I’m not a total idiot. But, there were things we did without condoms, and I’m sure that’s how it got passed on to me.”
“And how can you be sure it was passed to you by him and not someone else?” Detective Graham queried.
“Because he had flown me out to Seattle to see him, and then I had my wisdom teeth removed right after I got home. I noticed the problem a few weeks later, so the timeline couldn’t have added up to be anyone else.”
“And was that why you searched Facebook for a group to join?”
“Not exactly,” Brielle responded simply.
“Then how did you come to join that group?”
“I’m not saying another word until my lawyer gets here.”