“You—! Wait, what?” His voice lowered a decibel. “You will?”
“Of course I will,” I said easily. “I want to foster open lines of communication between me, you, and the detectives. That can’t happen if everyone sees me as a crazy-eyed, lying witch.”
“Open communication? What on earth are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about seeing the chart or list or whatever it was that the other officers put together for that night,” I said. “They came up with ten names and ten people who went upstairs and passed by the different officers at their stations—”
“Just a minute—”
“—but without context, it doesn’t mean anything to you guys. You don’t know what’s where or which rooms are which. That’s why I need to see it because I’m the one who’ll know who’s lying. For example.” I raised my voice over Davis’s second attempt to interrupt. “Charles Layton said he left the party and went to the library where he stayed until after my mother was killed. But the library dead-ends a short hallway in the east wing. The only way to get to it is by going through the hall two passages down fromwhere my bedroom is. I need to know if the officer guarding that hallway is the one who saw him, because if they didn’t, he’s lying.”
There was a pause.
“Are you finished?” he asked, voice flat.
“Yep.”
“Good, then I can get straight to telling you no. All evidence collected is now material evidence in a murder trial. You’re not getting anywhere near it.”
I wasn’t fazed. “You might want to rethink that since you’re putting the wrong woman on trial.”
“Ms. Thorne had means, motive, and the murder weapon in her purse. What more will it take to convince you?”
“She didn’t have motive, and literally anyone could’ve put that knife in her purse—like the twenty-sevenotherpeople who also had opportunity.”
“Twenty-seven? What are you—? Hold on,” he cried. “You’re not suggesting that—!”
“One of your fellow cop buddies who were just as free to wander around my home, had just as much opportunity to kill my mother, and were the obvious choices to plant their murder weapon in the first bag theysearched.”
“Where are you getting this shit from?” His shout made my ears ring. “The men and women I serve with are above reproach! They would never—!”
“Fuck’s sake, Davis, you’re not this dumb!” Just like that, I was shouting too. “You’re smart, you’re observant, and you actually care about this community and the people you swore to serve. Well, two of those people were murdered and another one is about to lose everything for a crime she didn’t commit, so isn’t it about time you did something about that!
“My mother and Mrs. Prado were killed by the same person, right? That’s what you believe, isn’t it!” I demanded. “But you know Courtney was nowhere near Mrs. Prado, don’t you.”
It wasn’t a question, but I waited for him to answer anyway.
“Ms. Thorne... is not a suspect in that crime,” he gritted out. “She had a rock-solid alibi. She was serving customers all morning.”
“There the fuck you go.”
“There the fuck I go nowhere,” Davis flung back. “It’s only conjecture that those crimes may be related, and conjecture isn’t proof. We—”
“No, not we.You.You know they’re connected. You know that two women don’t up and get murdered in the same place two weeks apart, and it has nothing to do with each other. You know something’s wrong, and you know that some sweet single mom who spends her days baking cookies has nothing to do with it. You know,” I barked. “So stop parroting bullshit you don’t even believe, and do something about it.
“Give me the list. I’ll look into the people I know, and you can look into your cop buddies. Together we’ll find the monster who did this to Mrs. Prado and my mother.”
He was laughing before I finished my speech. “You’ve been watching too many cop shows, Mrs. Kim. This is the real world, and in the real world, beat cops don’t investigate homicides, and they for damn sure don’t team up with failed influencers.
“I’m not giving you a thing,” he dropped. “Back off. If I find out you’re playing amateur sleuth, I’ll arrest you for interfering in a police investigation.”
I scoffed. “Well done, Officer Cop-A-Feel. Once again, you’ve proven to be a shitstain embarrassment to your profession. Too bad no one was filming it this time. Pervert.”
“Fuck you.”
Click.
Groaning, I tossed my phone at the couch. “Welp, that bridge is burned.”
