Page 123 of Not That Ridiculous

“Why don’t you sit down and?—”

“Do you want a latte? Cappuccino? Americano? Tea, if you must?”

“Charlie—”

“I’ve got almond milk, regular milk, oat milk. If you insist on tea, I’ve got peppermint, English Breakfast, and Lady Grey. Not that I ever drink it myself. It’s good to have in for guests.” Suzanne Lawson liked English Breakfast. Pippa was all about her Lady Grey. The peppermint was for my indigestion.

Liam glanced at where I was drumming my fingers on the counter by the Gaggia. “Americano sounds great,” he said.

Americano. Yes. I knew that. His order was always an Americano.

He went and sat across from Kevin at the table and brought out a laptop, which he set to one side. I couldn’t hear much of their conversation over the noise of my machine. By the time I’d made Liam’s Americano, made a couple more and ran them outside on a tray with milk and sweeteners for the appreciative constables, called up to Meera and got her order, and then made one for myself, the paramedics had shown up and Kevin was gazing into space, having his blood pressure taken.

The rest of the afternoon and on into the evening blurred after that.

Liam took our statements, typed them up on his laptop and had us digitally sign them.

People came and went, banging up the stairs and creaking about overhead, then banging back down.

I made more coffee.

Kevin didn’t touch his latte. I made him another one.

We were both given stern instructions not to talk about it down the pub, or at the gym, or in the coffee shop, as it was an open investigation, and then Liam told me that if I wanted anything from my room, I should tell Constable Katie Jones, and she’d grab it for me and pack me a bag.

“A bag?” I said blankly. “Why?”

“Forensics is still processing your room. You can’t sleep here tonight.”

Is…? Is the cowboy still here?” I was sure that I’d seen someone being stretchered out earlier. I’d only caught a glimpse of the activity through the kitchen doorway into the hall, but I’d definitely seen a stretcher.

Without missing a beat, Liam said, “No. The body you called in has been taken out to the ambulance.”

“How many more are there?” Kevin interrupted, speaking for the first time in what felt like forever. His voice was husky. “Two more? Or is it three?”

Liam winced.

“What?” I said, and then immediately had a flashback that was glorious and horrifying at the same time.

The glorious: naked, happy Kevin investigating the wall.

The horrifying: naked, happy Kevin announcing that there were four alcoves.

“No,” I said. “There aremore bodies?”

Liam neither confirmed nor denied.

He didn’t have to.

“Oh my god,” I said blankly. “I’ve got a murder house. Adollhouse. Just like Ray. I mean…justlike Ray. Kevin found him, and everything.”

Kevin stood up suddenly, making me flinch. “Can I go?”

Liam’s blue-grey eyes flicked to me then back again. “Uh. Yes. I have to give you both a pamphlet and my card with my contact details?—”

“I’ve already got your phone number,” I said.

“That’s my personal number. You need my professional number, and email. Charlie, tell Constable Jones what you want packed, and you two can leave. Do you have an overnight bag she can use?”

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