Page 142 of Not That Ridiculous

“I’ll do it. Why don’t you go and empty the dishwasher?”

“Nooo. Let me make him a coffee. Please, Charlie.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m willing to bet you make this man a coffee every damn morning.” I cut Liam an assessing look. “I’m also willing to bet you serve it to him in bed.”

“Of course I do!” Jasper said cheerfully. “It makes sense. I get up way earlier than he does. We only have Nespresso, though. This is the good stuff. Right? Besides, I want to make him a latte.”

“Fine. Go ahead. Try not to burn yourself with the steam wand again, I’m running out of plasters.”

He had three minor steam burns on his wrist, which he pointed out to Liam.

Liam, predictably, reached over the counter and caught his forearm, lifting it up and inspecting the small plasters I’d applied. If there hadn’t been so many people watching, I was convinced that he’d have kissed it better.

As it was, we were all spared the adorable moment, and he settled for telling Jasper to watch what he was doing, and make it two doughnuts. One glazed and one with sprinkles.

With no other customers to serve, I left Jasper to whatever flirty barista/hot cop fantasy he was in the middle of fulfilling, and ducked into the kitchen to see to the dishwasher.

Liam wandered in two minutes later, latte in one hand and a plate with his doughnuts in the other.

“Are you supposed to be eating on the job?” I said, emptying the cutlery basket with a brisk rattle of still-warm metal.

“Yes. It’s encouraged. Glucose is good for cognitive function. That’s just science.”

He leaned against the cabinets and watched me as he worked his way through a doughnut and I worked my way through emptying and reloading the dishwasher. I dropped in a tablet, closed the front with a brisk snap, and started it up.

I turned to face him. “What’s the latest? You’d better not be here to take me in for interrogation. If you are, we’re going out the back. I’ve had about as much gossip as I can stand, thanks.”

“You’re not a suspect. I’d have taken you in straight away if you were.”

“You didn’t take Ray in straight away.”

Liam gave a long-suffering sigh. “I didn’t take Ray in at all, despite how he likes to tell it. And despite Jasper’s libellous articles in theInquirer, Ray was never a suspect, either.”

“When do I get to go home?”

“Not today.”

“Really? How long can it possibly take? What are you even doing?”

He gave an irritatingly unhelpful shrug and brushed me off. “It takes how long it takes.”

“Great. Can you tell me how many bodies there are? Was Kevin right? Are there four? Are they connected to the bodies found at Ray’s?”

“We’re not releasing information to the general public at this time, since it’s an open investigation.”

“Am I the general public?”

“More or less.”

“Can you at least tell me if they’re all cowboys?”

Liam’s face did something. The expression was there and gone so quickly that I couldn’t quite tell if it was amusement or distaste, or a queasy mix of the two.

It did tell me that they weren’t all cowboys.

“Astronaut?” I guessed. “Firefighter?”

He shook his head.

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