Page 47 of Detectives in Love
“Four p.m.”
“Four in the afternoon?!” I almost jump. I remember lying down on the couch just to scroll through my phone, planning to head to my room—but I must’ve completely blacked out. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
Xavier glances over, then quickly looks away. “Thought you could use the rest after yesterday,” he says, trying to sound casual. Then he adds, a little too fast, “Besides, we can’t go out anyway. The journalists are camped outside again.”
I frown. “Journalists? What the hell is it this time?”
Xavier grabs a newspaper off the table and tosses it onto my lap. “Second page.”
I sit up straighter, shrugging off the blanket (where did that even come from?), unfold the fresh copy of theRomford Recorder, and rub my eyes before reading.
“‘Partners-in-Crime Lives Up to the Name,’” I mutter. The headline’s paired with a photo of me and Xavier scuffling with that so-called journalist outside Rishetor. My stomach sinks as a sigh slips out. “Oh, perfect…”
“That’s not all.” Xavier drops onto the couch beside me with his laptop and reads out, “Midnight Crime Solvers: How Mr. X and His Partner Broke Into Hilton Crematorium…”
I blink at him. “You’ve got to be kidding. How did they even find out, let alone post it this fast?”
Xavier shrugs. “No idea. But this headline’s ridiculous.”
I snort. “Yeah, sounds like we’re some kind of married crime-fighting duo.”
It takes me a second to realize I actually said that out loud. I blush, instantly regretting it. Xavier gives me a long look, then raises an eyebrow with the faintest smirk.
He lets the silence hang, then says, “Our apartment’s bugged. I’m sure of it now.”
I frown. “By who? I thought it was just Ernest.”
“My nosy uncle included,” Xavier says loudly, like he’s addressing the ceiling. Then quieter, “But he’s not the one leaking gossip. For all his faults, Ernest, if you haven’t noticed, ‘cares’ deeply about myreputation.” He grimaces, like itphysically hurts to say it. “I even called him. He swears he didn’t bug our bathroom.”
“Our bathroom?” I squint at him. “What are you talking about?”
Xavier switches tabs and tilts the screen toward me. A headline jumps out:“Newt Doherty Injures Shoulder During Nocturnal Crematorium Escapade.”
My jaw drops. “What the hell?”
“Someone’s been listening,” Xavier says. “And it’s not Ernest.”
“Who the hell bugs a bathroom?” I mutter, dragging a hand through my hair, still reeling.
“No clue,” Xavier says. “But before we tear the place apart looking for bugs, I need to get back into Rishetor. There’s a theory I want to test.”
I cross my arms. “Didn’t Willand just tell you to drop the case?”
“To hell with Willand.” Xavier shuts his laptop and gets up from the couch. “I just need one last piece of evidence.”
“Want to share the theory?”
“Sure. But I need to confirm something first.”
“You’re the one who said there are journalists outside,” I remind him, raising a skeptical brow.
“We’ll figure something out,” Xavier says, thoughtful.
“I could probably talk Katie into letting us in one more time,” I offer, trying to sound casual.
Xavier’s expression tightens. “No,” he says suddenly, voice clipped.
I blink at him. “Wait—don’t youwantto get into Rishetor?”
