Page 38 of The Watcher's Bride

I consider his question and decide the best course of action is to be as truthful as possible. “Yes, we got along well enough. He was a good colleague, hardworking, on time, polite, and friendly.”

“So you saw him only as a colleague, not a friend?” the younger man interjects, and I wonder what my other colleagues have said.

I shrug, trying to remain casual. “We didn’t particularly socialize outside of work. We got along, Mike was nice, but I wanted things to remain professional.”

“And Mike didn’t?” the lead officer astutely guesses.

I cringe a little, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “I got the impression that Mike wanted us to be more…”

“More than colleagues?”

“Yes,” I admit.

“So he asked you out?” Detective Brookes asks, leaning back slightly in his chair.

“Yes. He would occasionally invite me out for drinks after work.”

“But you refused?” Detective Simon suggests.

I shake my head. “Not always. If others were going, I would sometimes join, but I made my excuses if it was just going to be the two of us. I liked Mike, but not in that way. I wanted to keep things professional.”

Detective Brookes nods, seemingly satisfied. “When was the last time you saw Mike?”

“We worked the late shift together the night he was…” I can’t bring myself to say the words.

The detective nods. “Did anything out of the ordinary happen that day?”

“Yes. Mike walked me home.”

“And that was unusual? He didn’t normally?”

“No, he didn’t. It was the first time he ever walked me home.”

“Why did he walk you home that night?” Detective Brookes asks, fixing me with a curious gaze.

“He told me there’d been reports of a strange man hanging around outside the library and he wanted to make sure I got home safely.” I hope I haven’t made a mistake by not mentioning the conversation between Max and Mike. No one else was working then, and I doubt they’ve tracked down the customers who were there that night, and even if they did, I could claim it was a normal conversation.

“How did Mike seem that night? What did you talk about on the walk home?”

“He seemed normal. We talked about books, and he mentioned a story he was writing.”

“So nothing unusual happened on your walk home?”

I shake my head, “No.”

“What happened when you reached your apartment, did he come inside?”

“Yes, he came inside briefly to use my bathroom, and he stayed for a cup of tea. It seemed polite to offer it considering he’d gone to the effort of walking me home. He didn’t stay long. I thanked him for walking me home and said I was going to go to bed, so he left.” If things get bad and they look for his fingerprints or DNA in my apartment, I want to have a reasonable explanation for it, and this is the best I can think of.

“What time did he leave your apartment?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe around eleven?”

“Did he say where he might be going afterward or mention any plans?”

“No, and I didn’t ask. I assumed he was going home,” I reply truthfully. Despite the fact I know now who killed Mike, I certainly didn’t expect him to be killed that night.

“Did you ever notice or suspect that Mr. Thomas may have been a drug user?”

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