Page 45 of The Guilty Girl

‘Listen here, Richie, you need to get real for a minute. Keep close to the squad car and start acting like an anxious first-time dad. God knows you’ve been doing nothing but acting since I told you I was pregnant.’

‘Ah, don’t say that. It’s way below the belt.’ He flicked on the indicator and swung left at the roundabout, staying as close as he could manage behind the squad car.

‘Admit it, Richie, and for once in your pathetic little life be honest. You view a baby as an encumbrance to your lifestyle.’

‘What lifestyle?’ He shook his head, totally puzzled.

‘The lifestyle you live after dark. The one where you act the sexy stud while playing your crappy music. All that late-night flirting and whatever else you get up to will be curtailed once our son is born. And I get the feeling … no, I’m sure you resent this baby. You won’t know what’s hit you when he arrives.’

He didn’t reply, but his stomach dived. Her words cut through him because they were true. Brontë was on to him in a big way, and he hoped to Christ she had no idea about what had happened last night.

‘You’re not denying it, are you?’ She gently rubbed her bump.

Silence might be the best option – he didn’t want to incriminate himself in front of his highly intelligent, eagle-eyed wife. That argument was for another day. Instead, he tried to figure out what, if anything, she knew. If she was aware of even a little, he was in deep shit. He was beginning to think she knew too much already.

22

Lottie had grabbed a coffee and sandwich from the Bean Café and was sitting at her desk chewing away when her mobile rang. Sean. What now?

‘Sean, I’m busy. What’s up?’

‘Granny rang. She doesn’t sound good. A cold, I think. She asked me to buy her milk and bread and drop them over to her.’

‘Okay.’ She’d have to call to her mother after work. ‘Can you go on your bike?’

‘Sure. Mam, that’s not really why I—’

‘I’m busy, Sean. I’m investigating a murder.’

‘Yeah, you told me, and it’s shocking. You see, the thing I wanted to know about … Erm … when am I going to be interviewed?’

‘Sometime today. It will probably be Detective McKeown.’

‘Will you be taken off the case? Because I was there?’

She saw where he was headed. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t. I picked you up around midnight. Lucy’s death occurred hours later, though I’ve yet to get anything near an exact time. Just tell what you saw or heard, and give the names of anyone you knew there. Okay?’

A long pause. She could hear him breathing while she sipped her coffee.

Eventually he said, ‘Okay.’

He didn’t sound too sure. ‘Is there something else?’

‘Well … I mean, I don’t think so. Will I have to tell … everything?’

‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘You have nothing to hide, Sean, have you?’

‘I better go and get Granny’s stuff. Chat later.’

Lottie stared at the phone in her hand as her son killed the call. What could be wrong with him? She’d picked him up shortly after midnight and he was home in his bed not long after. Maybe he had seen the half-naked photograph of Hannah. She should have asked him about that. McKeown would.

Then she wondered if he had taken one of those pills like Hannah and Cormac had. He wouldn’t have, would he? She’d kill him if he had. She was about to ring him back when she was alerted by raised voices in the general office outside her door.

Eat first, then see what’s going on.

She swallowed a mouthful of coffee and took a bite of her sandwich, readying herself for whatever would hit her next.

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