Page 66 of Detectives in Love
“Shh. I’m thinking.”
He stays like that for another fifteen seconds, then suddenly spins me around and presses his hand flat against my shoulder blade.
“What the hell are you doing?” I murmur, my mouth not quite working right.
“Testing a theory.” He lets go without explanation and strides out of the alley.
“Care to share it with the rest of the class?” I mutter, catching up.
We step onto Bolton Gardens and head up the street.
“The robbery and the murder were committed by different people,” Xavier says, glancing over at me. “It’s obvious from the injuries. Based on the wound, the killer was roughly my height—just over six feet. The robber caught on camera was about five-five.”
“So it’s just a coincidence?” I frown. “Same victim, same alley, twice?”
“Could just be dumb luck,” he says. “But I doubt it. We need to talk to Bridge’s wife. But first, you need food.”
“I—what?” I say, completely thrown, but Xavier’s already steering me down the sidewalk with a hand between my shoulder blades, and I don’t argue.
We cross Bolton Gardens and step into a small café on the corner of Collingham Road called The Ponds.
“What about the wallet?” I ask as the door chimes behind us. I mostly just need to say something—anything—to distract myself from the fact that Xavier’s hand is now on the small of my back, guiding me inside. “The killer took that too.”
“It was just a distraction,” Xavier says, brushing it off.
The café is empty. A bleary-eyed waitress leads us to a window booth with red faux-leather seats overlooking the street.
I order two full breakfasts—one for each of us. While we wait, the waitress brings coffee, flashing me a warm smile as she sets down the cups.
Xavier catches it. I can tell because the moment she walks away, his eyebrow lifts.
“What?” I say, lips tightening.
“Nothing,” he replies, all innocence.
I roll my eyes. “Spit it out before you burst.”
“I’ve got nothing to say.” He shrugs, sipping his coffee.
“Nothing to say? Really? You should see your face.”
Xavier leans back, eyeing me over the rim of his cup. “Just trying to figure out what women see in you,” he mutters.
I shoot him a look, something inside me twisting with a sharp, stupid sting. “Obviously, they find me attractive,” I blurt, face going hot.
Xavier blinks, like he’s just realized what he said. “No—I didn’t mean you’re not…attractive.” He clears his throat, cheeks coloring. “It’s just…they look at you like…” He trails off, clearly flustered.
“Like what?” I ask, trying not to sound so pathetically hurt. “Go on, spit it out.”
“Like you’re a teddy bear they want to cuddle.”
I choke on my coffee just as I take a sip to calm down. “Well, is that so hard to believe?” I manage, a little steadier now—though I’m still clearly offended.
“Yeah,” Xavier says, looking cornered. “You just don’t seem…the type.”
I snort, lifting my chin. Then—before I can stop myself—I say, “I didn’t see you complaining last night.”
The second it’s out, I wish I could take it back.
