Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92668 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92668 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Even if that something else was my first love.
“Lottie?” he prompted, raising his eyebrows slightly.
“What do you think?” The words came out snappier than I’d intended, but could you blame me?
I was a little stressed.
Noah pressed his lips into a thin line, rendering his expression inscrutable. “I’m sorry, but I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Where’s Jamie? Can’t he do it?”
“No.” He held eye contact with me for a second. “Don’t make this hard, Lottie.”
“Don’t make it hard? Did you miss the part where Jamie said I’d just had a panic attack? Jesus Christ, Noah. Would it kill you to give me five minutes to make sure I don’t lose my shit again?”
Right as I asked that, blue lights illuminated the trees at the entry to the property, and an ambulance appeared through the greenery.
Look at that.
I didn’t want to be checked by a paramedic, but if it made Noah wait, then I’d let them do whatever they wanted to me.
Check me over? Do a blood pressure reading? Check my reflexes? Take me to dinner? Sure, sure, sure, sure.
Noah stepped to the side as two paramedics got out of the ambulance.
“Detective Inspector George,” an older woman greeted him. “What can we do?”
“I believe Sergeant Donovan called you for Miss O’Neil here.” He looked at me. “It is still Miss O’Neil, isn’t it?”
Ugh.
“Yes,” I ground out, clenching my jaw.
He nodded. “He thinks she had a panic attack after discovering the scene, and we need to question her.”
The older woman eyed him. “Then you might have to wait a bit.”
He didn’t say anything as she walked over to me, instead stepping off to the side to talk to the younger paramedic who had accompanied her.
“Right then, Miss O’Neil. Is there something else you’d rather be called?” she asked, kneeling down in front of me.
“Charlotte is fine,” I answered.
“Well, Charlotte. A panic attack, was it?”
I nodded. “Not my finest moment.”
She took my arm and flipped it over, exposing the inside of my wrist, and checked my pulse. “It’s understandable. Now, let’s take our time making sure you’re all right here, shall we?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Twenty minutes later, my paramedic—who I’d learnt was named Charlotte like me, but who went by Charlie—finally decided I was okay enough to be questioned by Noah.
I’d also learnt that Charlie was his aunt by marriage, had heard all about me from Ash, and had put two and two together to give me a minute to breathe.
I liked Charlie.
I was absolutely going to buy her flowers for that.
She left me with a wink and nodded to Noah that it was fine for him to come over.
It wasn’t, if you asked me, but sadly nobody had. I didn’t think anyone cared if I said it was fine or not—there was, after all, a dead body in my bed and breakfast, and the police undoubtedly had a lot of questions.
Noah pulled a little notebook out of his pocket and looked down at me. “It’s a shame we have to meet like this.”
“It’s a shame you’re fucking about with small talk,” I muttered.
“Lottie, I’m the police, and you just found a dead body. Co-operation wouldn’t kill you.”
“Then you can start by calling me Charlotte.”
“Fine. Charlotte.” My name was said with a bite. “Tell me what happened.”
“Isn’t that your job to figure out?”
“Don’t make this difficult.”
Solid advice.
I bit the inside of my cheek for a moment before I spoke. “I got the electric turned back on this morning. Stan said he would check it all for me and wanted me to turn it off at the fuse box, so I came over to make sure it was working and do as he’d asked. I was walking through the place when I saw a shoe by the window in the sunroom and went to investigate.”
“And found the deceased?”
“No. I found a group of flower fairies conducting a sacred ritual.”
Noah stared flatly at me.
“Yes,” I replied. “I found the deceased.”
“Do you have any idea who it is?”
I hesitated.
Noah noticed. “Charlotte. If you know, you have to tell me.”
“Declan Tierney.” I swallowed. “Owns a construction company. We had a… discussion… in the bar last night.”
“Discussion?”
“He tried to buy the bed and breakfast, and I told him where to shove it.”
Noah paused, scribbled on his notepad, then flicked it shut and put it back into the inside pocket of his blazer. “Wait here.”
That wasn’t good.
I was smart enough to know that I was in big, big trouble.
Noah marched over to a group of officers, spoke to someone else, nodded, then came back to me. “I need to take you in for questioning. I was hoping to avoid it, but…”
“Are you questioning me as a suspect?”
“I have no choice but to get this on record.”
I pressed my lips together. “Then I want a lawyer. I’m not saying anything until I get one.”