Read Online A Ghoul's Guide to Love and Murder by Victoria Laurie - Free Book Online Page B

encounters with law enforcement, and it was always the same deal: suspicion and skepticism until they saw the demon du jour up close and personal, and then they were all, “Oh, please help us, M.J.!”
    â€œFine,” I told Olivera. “We’ll follow you to the station.”
    Heath was quick to protest. “Em, we’ll need to wait for the attorney to meet us there.”
    â€œNo, we won’t,” I told him. When he opened his mouth to argue with me, I laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “Heath . . . the dagger. Someone has it.”
    He pressed his lips together and nodded. “You’re right. Okay, let’s go.”
    I called to Gil, who came out from the spare bedroom looking frustrated. “I’m waiting on a callback,” he said.
    â€œIt’s okay. We’re headed down anyway,” I said, as Heath handed me my jacket.
    â€œWithout a lawyer?” Gilley said. “M.J., don’t be stupid!”
    â€œDon’t be stupid?” I repeated angrily. “Gilley, somewhere in this city someone has Oruç’s dagger—which
you
offered up to the museum on a silver platter, and in so doing,
you
placed it within the public domain, where it obviously tempted someone into stealing it. And now someone appears to be dead, so I gotta ask you, who’s really the stupid one in this scenario?”
    Gilley’s face flushed with shame and he dropped his gaze. “Me,” he said softly. “You’re right, and I’m so, so sorry, guys. I really thought I could keep it safe.”
    â€œCome to the precinct with us,” Heath said gently while I continued to fume a little. “I think we’re gonna need you to confirm our whereabouts for tonight anyway.” For emphasis he glanced at Olivera, who nodded subtly. So it was true. We were under suspicion for the crime. Great. Just great.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    We met Olivera outside the precinct and then followed her inside, up a flight of stairs, and down a long hallway to the back of the building. Once through a set of double doors, we came out into a large room with desks arranged in a kind of haphazard fashion, some facing each other and others simply by themselves like little islands floating in a sea of paperwork.
    I wasn’t used to seeing actual desks at a police precinct—all of the previous investigative offices I’dvisited had always been arranged in cubicles, which I personally hated. I never knew how people could spend hours at a time in a tiny three-walled area with barely enough room to turn around and which gave only the pretense of privacy. Looking at the area Olivera had led us to was like stepping back in time before corporations became so uniform. I liked it.
    â€œOver here.” The detective gestured, waving us to the far corner of the room, where a door stood open. We filed in one after the other and sat down in one of the four chairs assembled in the room. I thought maybe Olivera had called ahead and told someone to put enough chairs in the room.
    Behind us, a gentleman, probably in his late fifties or early sixties, entered, and he brought his own desk chair with him. Taking a seat in the corner, he crossed his beefy arms over his portly belly and studied us one by one. He also gave off a vibe of authority, perhaps one notch above what Olivera was putting out.
    â€œThis is Lieutenant Wilgus,” Olivera said, with a subtle wave of her hand in his direction. “He’ll be joining us for the duration of our talk.”
    I shifted a little in my chair. If the precinct lieutenant was sitting in, then something really bad had to have gone down at the museum.
    Olivera took her seat and opened up her notebook. “Talk to me about earlier this evening,” she began. “Why did you go to the museum, and what happened there?”
    Heath took the lead and talked slowly, carefully,and in great detail about our