Page 49 of Dropping Like Flies

Griffin’s lips were touching my ear now, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver of arousal through me. “Young. Good looking… Nice.”

“Is he? I didn’t notice when he was standing next to you. I only had eyes for you.”

I laughed. As a good thing to say, it was definitely up there. And it was enough to break the tension. “Good. Keep it like that.”

“Yes, detective.” There was a hum of promise in Griffin’s tone that had me checking my watch and seeing how far away from two a.m.—the club’s closing time—we were. It wasn’t even midnight; we still had two hours to go.

We resumed circulating for a while until we came to a temporary stop. “Maybe, after this,” Griffin said, his tone seductive, “you could take me home and punish me.”

I turned my head so that our lips almost met. “What am I punishing you for?”

“Leaving you. Not seeing sense. Being stubborn. Being blind. Being stupid. Touching someone else.”

“That’s quite a long list. It’s going to take a lot of punishment.”

“I’m sure you’ll—”

Griffin never got to finish his sentence, a shout loud enough to be heard over the music, taking center stage instead. “HE’S GOT A KNIFE.”

And then all hell broke loose.

Chapter Eighteen

Griffin

Ben was off and running before I’d even processed what was happening. By the time I went after him, I faced a sea of people sensible enough to be running away from danger rather than toward it, coming in the opposite direction. The shout had come from the second floor, Ben taking the stairs two at a time in his haste to reach the top.

Not everyone had escaped. There was a large crowd of people trapped behind the man waving a knife around, none of them daring to pass in case he used it on them. It took a moment to realize that I recognized him. Mainly because with sweat plastering his hair to his brow and the frenzied look in his eye, he looked nothing like the man Ben and I had only interviewed a week ago. Yet, Douglas—Dougie—Elrod, it most certainly was. Did his mother know he was here? I almost laughed at the absurdity of the thought.

Harry was trying to reason with Dougie, one hand outstretched while he edged closer. One tap on the shoulder from Ben, and he conceded his position to a superior officer. No doubt he was relieved to pass on the mantle of responsibility. I know I would have been.

Ben slid his hand into his jacket pocket and produced his badge as a couple of bouncers appeared at the top of the stairs. He held it up without taking his eyes off Dougie. “DCI Ben Weaver.” They, too, were happy to step back and leave him to it. They remained in the background, presumably in case a bit of muscle was required. Someone had apparently informed the DJ that there was a bit of a situation, the music stopping abruptly mid-song, the silence jarring.

“Don’t come any closer!” Dougie screeched. “I know how to use this thing, and I’ll cut you.”

“Do you remember me?” Ben asked calmly. “We spoke last week.” From the look on Dougie’s face, he seemed to be having trouble remembering who he was, never mind someone else. “We came round to your house because we needed to ask you a few questions about your ex-boyfriend, Rupert Shaw.”

“He died,” Dougie said. “I killed him. I warned him he didn’t want to break up with me, that we weren’t done, but he wouldn’t listen. Nobody ever listens to me.”

The confession hit like a slug to the chest. Was Dougie really Satanic Romeo? If so, Ben and I had both discounted him, and for reasons that had nothing to do with him having an alibi. We’d both recognized how easy that would be to get from his mother, who obviously doted on him.

“I’m listening to you,” Ben said as he inched forward another step. “Why don’t you give me the knife, and then we can sit and talk.”

Dougie shook his head. “You don’t want to talk to me. Not really.”

“I do. I came round to talk to you, remember? We had tea and biscuits together.”

Something flickered in Dougie’s expression. “You didn’t eat any. My mother was offended.”

Despite the frantic thud of my heartbeat, and ignoring Ben’s expression telling me not to, I stepped forward so Dougie could see me. If I left Ben to deal with this on his own, and he got stabbed, I’d never forgive myself. I might not have any police training, but I’d dealt with difficult people before. Hell, I was one. “I had a biscuit. A custard cream. Do you remember me?”

Dougie’s panicked gaze met and held mine. I gave him an encouraging nod as his brow furrowed. His gaze soon swung back to Ben, though. “I didn’t want to kill him. Not really. I just wanted things to be like they used to between us.”

In the background, Olivia was recording the conversation on her phone.

“I understand that,” Ben said soothingly. “And we can talk about it. You can tell me everything that happened that night.”

“I killed the rest as well,” Dougie said, a shocked gasp going up from the people trapped behind him. A guy who didn’t look to be any older than nineteen decided he’d had enough at that point and tried to get by Dougie. He shrank back when Dougie turned in his direction and he found himself the recipient of some wild knife slashes.

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