“Miss?” he said, looking at me.
Why was he looking at me?
“I heard you say you met with the deceased this afternoon.”
Oh, crap again. “Yes, sir?”
“I’ll speak with you now, if you please.”
Me? What did I do? I had to pry my hand away from Helen’s before I could stand. MacLeod helped me up as if I weighed almost nothing. Once I was standing, I still had to lean back to look up at him. The man was extra large. His eyes were the type that twinkled when he talked, but I doubted he’d be jolly enough to let me slide simply because I happened to know his old buddy Derek.
And speaking of his old buddy, where was Derek? Figured he’d disappear when I needed him most. It wasn’t the first time he’d left me to fend for myself with the cops.
MacLeod allowed me to go before him up the stairs of the close, but he kept his hand on my elbow the entire time. It should’ve been comforting but felt more like he was coaxing a turkey to the chopping block.
When we reached the area at the top of the close, I saw Derek talking to one of the investigators. As I walked past in MacLeod’s wake, Derek shook his head in resignation. Hey, it wasn’t my fault I seemed to find dead people on a regular basis.
Angus MacLeod led me inside a nearby office building where, apparently, a few offices had been commandeered for the investigation. We walked down a short hall to an open office and he indicated a chair in front of a mahogany desk. “Please do have a seat, Ms…”
“Wainwright. Brooklyn Wainwright.”
“Ah, yes, Ms. Wainwright. You know our Commander Stone, I understand.”
“Yes, I do,” I said, starting to sit. “We’re acquaintances from-”
“A previous murder investigation in which you were also the prime suspect.”
My butt had barely hit the chair before I bounced back up and blurted, “Also the prime suspect? What’s that supposed to mean?”
And what kind of stupid question was that? I knew exactly what he was insinuating, and I wasn’t happy about it. How had I become the prime suspect again? It was so unfair. This probably wasn’t the best time to throw a tantrum, but I wanted to pout and kick something.
“It simply means that you have some experience with murder,” he said a little too cheerfully.
My inner alarm meter rose quickly. “No, I don’t. I mean, yes, I’ve been unfortunate enough to have come across a few victims of murder, but I have no experience with murder personally. I mean, I’m not a… Well, I would never…” Oh, God, I just needed to shut up.
“Please sit down, Ms. Wainwright,” he said again.
I stared at the threadbare visitor’s chair, then glanced at him. He had already seated himself in the deluxe boss’s chair behind the intimidating desk, clearly in charge. This wasn’t looking at all friendly. Good thing he wasn’t really carrying a claymore.
Did he think I did it? That this was a slam dunk? Was he picturing this investigation all wrapped up with a bow on top? I pulled my jacket a little tighter around me, feeling a distinct chill in the air.
“Fine.” I sighed as I sat. I could learn to hate the police, despite my sincerest efforts to love my neighbor and all that.
“Thank you,” he said. “Now, what I meant by experience was that you, Ms. Wainwright, of all people, may be the most accommodating of witnesses, having been on both sides of a similar situation in the past, and thus able to shine a clear light on the sad events of this evening.”
My eyes narrowed. His dialect was almost lyrical, his words were lovely and I should’ve been charmed, but I had this twitchy feeling that it was all a bunch of smoke he was blowing up my kilt. Not that I was wearing a kilt, but really, wasn’t he just flattering me before his henchmen showed up and dragged me away in shackles?
“So… you want my help?” I ventured.
He smiled brightly. “Aye, now you’ve got the right of it.”
I took a deep breath and channeled my mother, trying for one of her cheery Sunny Bunny smiles. I would’ve succeeded were it not for the sudden nervous tic in my cheek. “Okay, sure. Of course I can help. What would you like to know?”
He asked questions and I answered, telling him everything that had taken place from the beginning of the tour until the police arrived on the scene. I tried to remember everyone’s comments, every room we walked into, Helen’s first screams, then mine, then me racing out of there and straight into Derek’s arms.
“You can imagine my shock,” I said, “when Derek Stone appeared out of the blue, just as the body was discovered.”
I hastened to add, “Not that I’m accusing him of murder or anything.”