Mabel
I squeezed Clara’s hand and gave her a grateful smile. I appreciated that she was sticking up for me, especially when my entire body just felt like a wet noodle. If the tables were turned, I knew I’d do the same for her. She was my best friend.
“It’s alright,” I said. “It has to happen at some point, right?”
Then I turned to the cop, I said, “There’s not much to say. I brought a case of water up to the suite, and I found him on the floor like…that.” I didn’t want to have to say the words out loud again. Didn’t want to have to conjure up the image of Maurice’s bloodied body.
The officer had taken out a notepad and was scribbling notes as I talked. He barely looked up at me. “You the one who found him dead?”
I nodded, swallowing.
“And what was your relationship to the victim?” He finally looked at me, his expression tight. Why did I feel like I was being accused of something?
“My relationship?” I asked. “Uh, he was my boss. I hated him.”
The cop narrowed his eyes and put down his pen, fisting it in his hand. Over his shoulder he called to another man who’d entered the lobby after him. “Detective Anaya, you’ll want to come over here.”
Oh shit. I probably shouldn’t have admitted to hating my recently murdered boss. I definitely shouldn’t have opened my big mouth either. That was like the first rule of talking to the police, wasn’t it? Not saying too much?
The detective made his way to us, and my stomach jolted. His dark hair swept over his forehead, framing soft brown eyes with thick black lashes. His wideset shoulders filled out the button up he was wearing, the sleeves casually pushed up on his forearms. He probably had one of those smiles that lit up a room, but I wouldn’t know because he only glared at me as the other officer kept talking.
“Are you making a confession, Ms. Hampden?” the cop asked me.
My eyes widened. “What? No! I have nothing to confess to. I didn’t kill Maurice.”
The cop scoffed. “Right. You just hated him.”
“I mean, sure, I said that, but that’s not like, a confession—” I started rambling.
Clara stepped in, staring at the cop. “If everyone who hated Maurice is a suspect, then the list is long. He was kind of an overbearing asshole. Don’t you hate your boss?”
“I don’t want to kill him,” the cop answered, shifting while looking slightly uncomfortable.
The detective spoke then. “Good to know, officer.” He clapped his colleague on the back and looked at me. “Detective Santiago Anaya, Homicide.”
Before I could say my name, the cop gestured to me. “Detective, this is Mabel Hampden. She’s the one who found the deceased.”
To my right, Clara not so subtly elbowed past the cop. “And I’m Clara Chen. I also work here.” She all but fluttered her eyelashes at the detective, and I choked back a laugh. Even when things were this bad, my friend was still the life of the party and an expert flirt. Of course she’d noticed how good-looking he was. I certainly had. He was basically a TV show cop.
Except this wasn’t a TV show, and I’d really found a dead body.
“Hi. Clara,” Santiago said, his jaw still tight, “why don’t you go talk to the officer here for a minute. Maybe you can start by giving him that list of subjects you mentioned.”
Clara stopped and turned back to me. “You don’t have to say anything to them, remember that. You need a lawyer before you talk.”
As she left with the cop, I felt the detective’s eyes on me, scrutinizing me. I swallowed and looked up at him. “Do I need a lawyer?”
He looked me over once more. “You tell me.”
I didn’t care how hot he was, Detective Santiago was starting to really annoy me. I resisted the urge to cross my arms over my chest and stomp my foot. I hated being treated like I’d done something wrong when I was the one who was completely traumatized here! “I didn’t kill him,” I ground out. I didn’t know how many times I had to say that for them to get it. “I just happened to be the one to find him.”
“So you said. But you were the last person to see him alive.” He paused and glanced down to point at my feet. “And I believe that’s his blood on your shoes.”
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