“I’ve been in better shape,” I manage. “Sit down.”
He takes several big strides toward the plastic chair near my bed, and plummets into it from what seems like a great height. Then he spends way too long adjusting himself and fiddling with his phone.
“Where’s Leo?” I slur.
He doesn’t look up. “We have a Leontine Reeves in custody at present. Would that be the female you’re referring to?”
Custody? Of course she’s in custody. Jesus. “Is she okay?” What has she told them about me?
Detective Posner shuffles forward. The chair legs scrape across the floor. “Seems to think she shot you, as a matter of fact. You want to elaborate on that for me?”
“She didn’t mean it.” The words fly out before I have time to consider anything. And now I’ll have to wallow in them, get good and sticky.
He makes a sound between a laugh and a snort. “I’m sorry—what?”
“She didn’t…it was an accident.”
“She says she shot you,” he states, not without sarcasm.
Great. She’s playing the noble confessor. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Of all the times I’d need to come up with a plausible cover story, it has to be when I’m stuffed with opiates. Grasshoppers, why does the world hate me? I didn’t even cut it open; I just poked it a little. Had some fun.
I’m guessing by the way Posner’s questioning me that Leo hasn’t said much else. Let’s hope she’s calling his bluff—it’s all I have.
“My…my assistant is dead,” I croak.
“Tuija Klein,” he says.
Firecracker.
Fuck.
“She was murdered. I’m sure you’re aware of this.” I’m talking through my teeth. “It’s made Leo paranoid. When she came to me, she had her gun stuffed down her waistband. I didn’t see it. She was…she had a coat on.”
“Let’s hope Miss Reeves has a permit for that gun,” he mutters, mostly to himself.
“She and I are involved. We began to get intimate and the gun…I must’ve knocked it.”
“Your doctors tell me your injuries are consistent with a close range shot.”
“That’s because she was grinding on my dick at fucking close range.”
He sighs. Puts his hands out, starts gesturing around. “Look. I know you’re not at your best, shall we say, but I’m gonna need you to help me out. If the gun’s in her waistband, it’s pointing down, right?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.”
“I didn’t see it. I just know it was there because it happened to go off.”
“And what kind of position were you in when the gun went off…?”
If I could control my eyes enough to roll them, and not just go cross-eyed, that’s exactly what I’d be doing. “I don’t remember. Shit’s been pretty intense these last few days. One minute we’re all over each other, the next I’m on the floor, bleeding, and she’s crying her eyes out. That’s all I have.”
He tuts. “So it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that she intentionally fired the gun.”
“Trust me when I tell you it would be wildly out of character. Is there a lawyer in here?”
“Mr. Lore, you’re the victim. You don’t need a lawyer.”
“Does Leo have a lawyer?”
“I’m not permitted to share that information with you.” He’s got this narrow-eyed, suspicious look on his face. “Is there a possibility that Miss Reeves fired her gun…in self-defence?”
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
“It was an accident,” I grind out, “and I’m not saying anything else without a lawyer.”