You Owe Me a Murder(50)

The long list I’d made on the plane stared up at me. I remembered writing it, but it felt like something that had happened a lifetime ago. The saliva in my mouth dried up and I wanted to drop the toxic paper. I vaguely recalled her placing it, along with the list she’d written about her mom, into her bag on the plane. Thanks to the vodka haze, I hadn’t thought about it since. I shoved it into my pocket.

“Now, if the police were to get a copy of that, I have to think it wouldn’t look good. I’m sure they’ve wondered about your interactions with Connor, but I doubt they think you murdered him. You’ve got no history of violence. And even if you were going to kill him, you wouldn’t strike anyone as the type to do it that way. Too messy. Heavens, they’re not even certain that it wasn’t just a tragic accident. No point in giving them a reason to rethink that theory.”

“You kept this on purpose,” I said.

“Of course I did.”

“You planned it.”

She pursed her lips as if considering. “No. I wouldn’t say that. I tucked it away, just as a spot of insurance. I certainly didn’t plan to use it. I still don’t. I don’t want you to get into trouble. You’re acting like I’m the bad guy, when I’m simply asking for you to keep your promise. You’re not doing what you said you would and then you’re trying to get me into trouble.” Nicki shook her head. “Honestly, you’re the one making things difficult. How do you think I felt when I got home this morning and there was my mum puttering about in her dressing gown in the kitchen? Then I come here and see a couple of detectives in the lobby. You’re the one not leaving me a lot of options.”

I tried to imagine explaining to the police that I hadn’t meant anything by the list, that I’d just been blowing off steam, and that she’d been the one to trick me into writing the part about how he deserved to die. The cops hadn’t decided it was murder, but they also hadn’t declared it an accident, either. If the police got this note, that could sway the investigation. Sure, there was no proof that I did it, but I’d been on the platform. If they put pressure on Alex, he might not be willing to lie for me anymore—?not after all the other lies I’d told. Not if he saw this. I’d basically stalked Connor at work and followed him here to England, and there were plenty of people who would testify I wasn’t happy about what he’d done to me. Then I’d lied, saying I didn’t know him, then saying we dated, then admitting we hadn’t. This sheet of paper basically tied up the investigation with a nice, tidy bow. CRAZY GIRL KILLS HER EX.

I clutched the phone. “Please don’t tell,” I whispered into the receiver, as if talking into her ear.

Nicki smiled. “I keep trying to get you to believe me: I don’t want any trouble. Now, first things first. I’m going to hang up. Then you’re going to give those nice detectives some story about why you called them, but it’s not going to involve me. If it does, I’ll hand this list right over.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I can’t do it.”

“Can’t do what? Talk to the police? Of course you can. Just spin them a little tale.”

“No, I mean I can’t—?” I glanced over my shoulder at the front desk clerk, who was busy tapping away on her laptop. “I can’t do the other thing.”

“Murder my mum?”

I flinched as her words seemed to scream through the phone. “Yeah.”

“We’ll worry about that later. First, get rid of the detectives. Then we’ll talk.” She clicked her phone off and then motioned for me to hang up.

I slowly passed the receiver back to the clerk. “Thanks,” I said.

Detectives Fogg and Sharma were both standing, waiting for me. I trudged over and shook their hands. “Thanks for coming,” I said.

“We were glad to get your call.” Detective Fogg smiled. There was a sliver of something black wedged between two of his teeth. I focused on that instead of his eyes. “You said you had something to tell us?”

Could Nicki hear our conversation from the hall? I shoved my hand into my jean pocket and felt the wadded-up paper. That list would bury me. “Yeah. I did,” I said, playing for time.

They both waited for me to speak.

“Did you want to go somewhere else to talk?” Detective Sharma eventually asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“No. I, um . . . it’s just that it seemed more important earlier and now it seems silly.” I hitched my bag up higher on my shoulder.

“We never know what might be useful in an investigation,” DI Sharma said. She motioned for me to sit on the sofa, and she and DI Fogg took the two wingback chairs across from me.

“So, I was just thinking about Connor. He was really worried about his college applications. His grades weren’t as high as he needed for some of the schools he was wanting to get into.”

The detectives looked at each other in confusion. “Okay. And . . .”

“And you’d asked if there was any reason he might be depressed. I didn’t think of it at the time.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Yeah.” I picked at a crack in the leather sofa cushion. “I thought I should mention it. You know, just in case.” I crossed my fingers that they wouldn’t ask me, In case of what? “Maybe he really had decided to kill himself, because he was so stressed, or maybe he hired someone to push him in front of the train because he was worried he wouldn’t get into McGill, his top choice.” I paused and sighed in real embarrassment. “I know. It seemed important this morning when I thought of it, but I guess I wanted to help so badly, I let my imagination get away from me.”