Page 4 of The Irish Redemption

“Are you fucking listening?” Gerald surges forward and painfully grasps my shoulders in his meaty hands. He brings his face so close that I should be able to smell the stale stink of his breath, but all I smell is blood.

“The under-the-table payments, the whores who use this place, the drugs. Not a fucking peep, you hear me?” Gerald snarls. “You know nothing. You’re just the fucking cleaner.”

Gerald darts back when there’s a knock at the door, and a second later, the white door swings open and in steps a woman. Her blonde hair sweeps up to the top of her head, and square spectacles balance on the bridge of her nose. Her grey pantsuit hugs her body and as our eyes meet, I can’t help but wonder if the fabric is as soft as it looks.

Should I be thinking about that right now? I have no idea.

“Good afternoon. I am Detective Sarah Gogs.” She introduces herself with a flat smile. “You are the business owner, correct?” Her sharp gaze lands on Gerald and he nods quickly, offering her a hand to shake.

“Gerald, yes.”

She doesn’t take it. Her eyes snap back to me, and I’m rooted to the spot. “And you, you’re the one who found the body?”

I nod slowly, unable to take my eyes off her.

“Gerald, my colleague outside wants a word with you. Do you mind?” Sarah steps aside and tilts her head, indicating that Gerald should leave. He hesitates but leaves after a moment, but not before he shoots a warning glare in my direction. Once the door closes, Sarah perches on the edge of Gerald’s messy desk and sucks in air through her teeth.

“What’s your name?”

Finally, I find my voice. “Evelyn,” I croak. “Evelyn Morris.”

“How are you doing, Evelyn?”

“Is he really dead?” I ask softly, despite the answer being clear in my mind.

“Yes.”

I close my eyes and the tears fall. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t get the image of him out of my head.”

Sarah’s tone softens and there’s a note of sympathy. “You never forget seeing a dead body, I’m afraid,” she replies. “Evelyn, I’m sorry to have to do this, but I need to hear it while it’s still fresh in your mind. Can you tell me what happened?”

Nodding, I open my eyes and stare up at her. Despite the hard lines creasing her forehead and the tight purse of her lips, her eyes hold an unexpected warmth. I cling to it as I speak.

“I was cleaning as usual and just listening to music. I didn’t hear anything or see anything. I just… I did the room and then I went into the bathroom to clean, and that’s when I saw the… the…” My throat closes and heat rushes up my neck, settling behind my eyes. The tears come thick and fast, forcing me to dip my head away in embarrassment. Abandoning my pathetic coffee, I fight to wipe the tears away.

“Did you recognize the victim? Did you see him at all?”

I shake my head, struggling to picture his face. All I can see is the gaping wound on his throat and in my mind, it spreads across his body until it consumes him.

Sarah makes a soft noise, then her hand lands gently on my shoulder. “I understand this will be difficult for you, Evelyn. I’m going to have one of my officers take you down to the station so we can talk properly, okay?”

My head snaps up as my heart jumps like a punch. “What? You think… You think I did this?” I weep.

“It’s protocol,” Sarah replies, smoothly dodging the question. “It will be more comfortable for you to talk away from the crime scene.”

The crime scene.

Of course.

That man is dead and someone killed him. Could it be someone else who is staying here?

Or something much worse?

The bright lights and antiseptic smell of the police station are starkly different from the motel. It’s like I’ve been whisked away into an entirely different world. Sarah seats me in a comfortable office and brings me a cup of real coffee, one with a taste and scent strong enough to cut through the copper smell that’s following me like a ghost.

She sits on the couch across from me, notepad in hand, and taps her pen lightly against it while watching me drink. The heat from the coffee trickles slowly through me, and I can trace it in my mind's eye as tight muscles slowly ease from the heat.

“How long have you worked at the Sunrise Motel?” Sarah asks.

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