Page 52 of Not That Complicated

“I’m a person of interest.”

“Definitely are.”

“To Nash,” I said, “not you.”

“I’m assuming you mean legally.”

“Weren’t you listening? He’s an arsehole. I wasn’t a person of interest for the first body. Why now?”

Adam smiled.

“I am offended,” I said. My voice quavered.

“I can tell.”

It wasn’t offence making me shaky. An official interview had been perfectly in order. Two bodies. If it was someone other than me, I’d have been all for it.

I wasn’t offended, I was unsettled. I was scared.

“Here.” Adam held out a key card.

“My booking suddenly reappeared, did it?” I said.

“No. But have a luxury suite upgrade as an apology for the mix-up. We like to keep our repeat customers happy.”

I searched his face but he seemed to mean it. “That’s very kind.” I took the key card, then narrowed my eyes at him. “Same price, though?” I said, “You’re not tricking me into spending five hundred pounds on a Premier Lodge room, are you?”

“No, you snob.”

“I’m not a snob.” I whisked the card out of his hand.

Maybe I was a little bit of a snob. Mostly, though, if I was going to spend hundreds of pounds a night or for two nights, it wouldn’t be somewhere within walking distance of my house. You know. My murder house.

It would have a view of the ocean, bare minimum.

“Ray.”

“Yes?”

Adam’s eyes were on mine. There was something cautious in them. “Are you okay?”

Right. I was staring off into space, thinking about a room with an ocean view. “Me?” I said, “Oh, yeah. I’m great.” I shot him two thumbs up, caught the strap of my laptop bag when it slipped off my shoulder, fumbled the key card, and rushed off.

I hesitated at the lifts, wondering which floor my room was on. I looked back at the desk.

Adam was watching. He silently held up three fingers.

Third floor. Got it. Finger guns.

As I stood there waiting for the lift to arrive, my phone vibrated. I jumped, forgetting I’d stuffed it in my front pocket. Yeah, no, I thought. It can wait.

It went to voicemail after ten rings. Then it began again.

Oh, fine. I grabbed it, went to turn it off, then saw Adam’s contact photo on my screen.

“What?” I said, turning to glare at Adam. He was leaning on the front desk, phone held to his ear.

“If you need to talk about it...” he said.

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