You Owe Me a Murder(24)

I shook my head, trying to scatter the thoughts that were Ping-Ponging around inside of it. My phone chimed, reminding me that it was time to meet Tasha. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair was sticking up and there were dark circles under my eyes. I went down the hall into the bathroom and ran the cold tap and then pressed a wet paper towel to my face, letting it soothe me as I took long, deep breaths. I pulled my hair back into a stubby ponytail and jerked my shirt into place.



* * *





As I walked down the hall toward the library, I saw its door open and Miriam slipped out. She looked ragged. I paused, not sure what to say. As she drew near, she took me by the elbow and pulled me into a hug.

“Connor was an asshole, you know. He never deserved you.” Her words were soft and whispery in my ear, like an insect’s wing, despite the hard edge of what she was saying. Her breath tickled my neck and the tiny hairs stood up.

I pulled back slightly. Had I heard her right?

“Be careful what you tell them.” She let go of me and walked quickly away.

My heart jumped up into my throat. Does she know about Nicki? I couldn’t get the words out. Miriam was already most of the way down the hall. Sophie appeared; she must have been waiting for Miriam in the lobby, for she was suddenly glued to Miriam’s side, making soft clucking, comforting noises.

I turned and tapped on the library door and Tasha called for me to come inside. I stepped into the room and then stopped in my tracks, my hand clutching the door handle like a bird’s claw. There were two police officers in the room.

“If you’re busy, I can come back later,” I offered.

“No, it’s fine. This is DI Sharma and DI Fogg.” Tasha looked up from her papers and realized that I was still locked in place. “They’re the detectives looking into Connor’s accident,” she said. She waved me forward. “Everything’s fine—?they’re just collecting information.”

I nodded and willed my hand to let go of the door handle. What does Miriam know, and what did she tell them? I walked over to the table, my gait jerky and stiff. I sank into the seat. Maybe I should mention Nicki to them, just in case. They could find her. They were the police, that’s what they do—?find people. But they might think I sounded crazy, that I had talked about Connor with this girl I met on the plane and we’d sorta made a murder deal, but I hadn’t meant it. All Miriam had said was to be careful. Did that mean to tell them everything or nothing? I bit my lip, the sharp pain bringing me into focus.

“How are you bearing up?” Tasha asked.

“Okay,” I mumbled.

“Did you know Connor O’Reilly very well?” Detective Fogg asked, pulling on his thick dark beard.

“Not really.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to catch them and shove them back down my throat. I didn’t know why I’d said that, other than the last thing I needed them to do was dig into my past. This was probably what Miriam was trying to warn me about—?talking without thinking. My fingers knit themselves together under the table. “I mean, I knew him. We go to the same school, and we worked together this summer, and we used to be . . . closer. But no, we weren’t friends.” That, at least, was the truth, even if it was vague.

“Have you had much interaction with him on the trip?” DI Sharma asked.

“No.” The word came out in a long rush, like a sigh.

Detective Fogg looked down at his paper. “Kendra said she heard the two of you having an argument.”

My fingernails cut into my palms as I clenched my hands under the table. “It wasn’t really an argument. He made a nasty comment about a scavenger hunt we did the other day. I told him to fuck off.” My voice started to shake. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I didn’t want anything to happen to him.”

Tasha reached over and patted my hand. “Hey, it’s okay. People say things they don’t mean sometimes.”

“Had he said anything to you about being upset or bothered by anything? Any reason he might be depressed, or feel overwhelmed, stressed, that kind of thing?”

I shook my head. “I wasn’t the person he’d talk to if he was upset.”

“Were you aware he and his girlfriend had broken up?” Detective Sharma tapped her pen on her notebook.

The air in my lungs iced over. Then I realized they didn’t mean me, they meant Miriam. “What?” I looked over at Tasha.

She took a deep breath. “Apparently, Miriam told him that morning that she felt they’d be better suited as friends.”

Miriam had dumped Connor? That explained his lousy mood that morning. Had she somehow found out about what had happened between him and me? “I didn’t know,” I said softly. My feet itched to run upstairs and find Miriam. I had to know what had happened between them.

Tasha sighed. “No one did. As you can imagine, Miriam’s a bit distraught given what occurred.”

DI Fogg snorted as if he didn’t quite believe she was that unsettled. When he noticed the rest of us had paused to look at him, he cleared his throat and gazed down at the pad of paper in front of him.

“Miriam insists she and Connor parted as friends. She didn’t think he was that upset; she said he never wanted to get serious,” Tasha said. “I saw him myself yesterday morning and he seemed fine—?maybe a touch irritable, but he certainly didn’t seem despondent. I suspect that’s why he said something nasty to you—?he was in a bad mood. But a bad mood isn’t the same thing as clinically depressed. His parents are certain he’s not the type to do anything . . . drastic.”