I nodded.
“Was there really poison in it?”
“We’re investigating possible contamination. I don’t want you drawing conclusions before the testing is complete.”
I appreciated that.
Because by then, the story circulating outside the restaurant was already more dramatic than anything I’d witnessed.
Some people claimed Dominic had collapsed.
Others said he’d been hospitalized.
One online account reported that three attorneys had been arrested at the dinner.
None of that was true.
Dominic had left the restaurant under his own power.
Nobody had been arrested that night.
And the investigation had only begun.
Nine days after the dinner, Dominic Rinaldi asked to meet me.
This time, the invitation came through an attorney who explained that I could bring someone of my choosing and wasn’t required to attend.
I spoke with Detective Morales first.
She advised me to keep any conversation about the incident factual and to inform investigators if someone attempted to influence my account.
I brought Ben.
My brother wore the only suit he owned and looked as nervous as I felt.
Dominic received us in a conference room at his Manhattan office.
He was shorter than he appeared in photographs.
His hair was silver at the temples, and he wore a dark-blue sweater instead of a suit.
He stood when we entered.
“Miss Bennett. Thank you for coming.”
I nodded.
“This is my brother, Ben.”
Dominic shook his hand.
Then he invited us to sit.
“I owe you an apology,” he said.
I stared at him.
“For what?”
