Hazel

10 SAM

“I’m glad to see you’re okay, Sam.” Ahmed closed the office door behind me, muffling the commotion in the hallway.

“People were looking at me funny.”

“I think it’s because of the girl they found this morning.”

“Are we really that similar?”

“Similar features. Hair color and cut.”

“I guess it’s in style.” I smiled at him, but he didn’t seem to be having a good day.

“There’s more...” Ahmed walked around the desk and rifled through the folder that had been closed when I came in. “We got a positive ID in our system. She’d been arrested for vagrancy before. The girl from yesterday... she was blonde before she was killed.”

“It’s not uncommon for women to go brunette.”

“True.”

“But that’s not why you thought it was me... is it?”

“You’d make an excellent detective, Sam. I’ve told you that.”

Ahmed flashed a charming smile.

“I’ve always loved mysteries. I used to read Agatha Christie when I was a teenager,” I said.

“Unfortunately, it’s a lot less glamorous than in the books,” he added. “About your question... I’d like you to answer something for me first.”

“Okay.”

“Mr. O’Brien... what do you know about him?”

I took a deep breath.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not asking as a jealous suitor or anything like that.” Ahmed stood up and came over, stopping beside me. “I can’t give details of an ongoing investigation... but since he arrived, we’ve had problems we didn’t have before.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This girl... the one we found. She was seen with him the night before her death,” he said quietly.

“The girl who was with him at the bar?”

“We found his card on her.” Ahmed showed me a photo from the folder. The bloodstained card lay near a dumpster in the alley where she’d been found.

“You can’t think he has anything to do with this.” I handed the photo back to him.

“I can’t ignore the facts.”

“He was with me yesterday.”

“The girl’s been dead for two days.”

“He was with me the night before.”

“All night?” Ahmed asked. “Were you with him at that bar?”

I hesitated, and Ahmed sighed.

“Sam...” He took my hand. “I don’t think you should let him stay at your place.”

“He paid for the place.”

“Then leave. You can stay with me, if you want.”

“Ahmed.”

“Okay. Bad idea.” He composed himself. “I know you can take care of yourself... but I won’t sleep easy knowing you’re with him.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Ahmed.” I pulled away. “Connor’s a grouch... but he’s harmless. He has an excellent police record and just lost his friend.”

Ahmed’s reaction was subtle when I defended Connor.

“Besides, you said it yourself. I can take care of myself,” I added. “Connor would never betray his friend... if that girl really had the same injuries as Bob, your theory that Connor did this is extremely weak.”

“I’m capable of conducting my investigations on my own, Miss Riad.”

“Then, officer, do your job and arrest the real killer behind these deaths,” I shot back, matching his cold tone. “And let me make sure Connor doesn’t get in your way.”

I turned and left the office, leaving Ahmed behind. I made my way down the corridor with heavy steps. As I passed one of the officers’ cubicles, I saw two composite sketches on the computer screen. I froze when I realized they could easily be me and Connor.

I quickened my pace and put on huge dark sunglasses. Keeping my eyes down, I got out of there as fast as I could. I needed to warn Connor that some people actually do take necrophiles seriously.

I was approaching the alley to my loft when I spotted a young woman standing in front of the antique shop. My eyes followed hers and found Connor shirtless, holding a cup of what must have been his eightieth coffee of the day.

Connor was an attractive man, though not my type. I prefer younger guys, and less grumpy ones. He was more the grumpy old lone wolf type.

But undeniably attractive.

The exhibitionist detective stepped away from the window, and the young woman quickly put on her sunglasses, looking as shaken as an atheist who’d just witnessed a miracle.

She wasn’t much shorter than me. She had lighter skin, which wasn’t hard since I was more tanned than I’d ever been. Her hair was the same shade as mine but much longer.

Looking at her made me think that if I’d been a normal girl, we could’ve been twins. Fancy clothes, a giant hat, and high heels.

I walked past her and smiled, but she didn’t smile back. She probably couldn’t see me from behind those huge sunglasses.

I fished the antique shop key out of my pocket and opened the front glass door. I left the closed sign up. I went straight to the package Mr. Omar had told me would be arriving.

I opened the packaging to find a sixteenth-century dagger with an ivory handle and a triangular blade. Mr. Omar didn’t usually carry this kind of piece in the shop, but every now and then clients placed special orders—like this one from the BMC listed on the card.

This BMC had made some donations to the antique shop—rare pieces from various cultures. In exchange, every now and then, they made peculiar requests, like this dagger.

The sound of the door caught my attention. I turned around and came face to face with a hulking brute who seemed to take up half the room.

“Good afternoon,” I greeted. No response.

“The order.” He pointed at my hand. “I’ll take it.”

“Okay, I just need your ID.” I smiled, trying to stay friendly even though the terrible manners of some clients drove me crazy.

“Just put it in the box and give it to me.” He leaned on the counter, making me realize he was even bigger than I’d thought. “The formalities aren’t necessary.”

“They are for me.” I put the dagger back in the box and clutched it.

The man drew himself up to his full height, making me feel small.

“I’m in a hurry, little lady,” he said, sounding irritated.

“The little lady is just doing her job.” Connor’s voice came from behind the man, near the exit.

“If you want to take it, you’ll need to give me some ID.” I felt slightly safer with White Head’s presence.

The big guy grumbled, then pulled out an ID badge with his photo and the logo of some company connected to BMC. I’d seen that logo on another delivery before.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” I snapped a photo of the ID and handed him the package.

Connor stayed by the door as I walked the man to the exit. I stood beside Connor and watched him get into a car parked a few meters away.

“My bad… I heard a noise… I forgot you said you were going to work.” His eyes met mine.

“It’s all right.” I shrugged. “It was actually useful having a pair of XY chromosomes on my side.”

“Who was he?” Connor helped me close the door.

“Some grumpy employee of an important donor.” I slipped the keys into my pocket. “What matters is I’m off for a few days.”

Connor opened the door for me.

“Mr. Omar kindly gave me a few days off to make up for the whole mess with the sublease of my apartment.”

“He should reimburse me. That’s what he should do,” he grumbled as I walked past him. When we got inside the apartment, he went straight to the bathroom while I headed to the kitchen and poured myself some water.

I leaned against the counter and flipped through some papers scattered there. I heard the shower turn on and the water start running.

“Don’t take too long in there. I need to pee,” I shouted while scanning the sheets covered in margin scribbles. Connor had a habit of jotting down random words and numbers in the corners of the page. I had no idea how he made sense of it later.

“At least the handwriting is nice,” I murmured.

“Thanks,” he said from behind me. I spun around suddenly, bumping into his damp chest. His hair was wet and he smelled like my new shampoo. How many showers was this man going to take? And why was he almost always half-naked and sneaking up on me?

My eyes traveled down from his chest, finding the usual towel wrapped around his waist. I snapped my gaze back up immediately.

“You asked me not to take long,” he said, as if that explained the towel. As if I hadn’t seen this scene before.

“R-right.” I swallowed hard. “I… I’m going.”

I ran to the bathroom, leaving behind the disturbing (and sexy) and embarrassing (did I say sexy?) vision of Detective White Head in just a towel.

When I came out, Connor was already fully dressed, but the image of him in just a towel kept replaying behind my eyelids.

“I was going over the information,” he said, stretching his back and arms. My eyes followed his movements. “So, what did Ahmed want?”

“To know about you.”

“About me?”

“He’s worried about me.”

“He shouldn’t be. You know how to take care of yourself.” Connor sat on the bed.

“I told him that.”

“Besides, I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I told him that too.” I sat beside him.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it from day one,” he explained. “Would’ve saved me some aspirin.”

“Your headache isn't my fault,” I shot back and got a look in response. “Okay. I may have partially contributed to making your symptoms worse.”

“My experience with women hasn't exactly been the highlight of this trip.”

“Which brings us to the first piece of information.” I took a deep breath. “The blonde girl who drugged you... what do you remember about her?”

“I told you everything I remembered.”

“Yeah... that's what I thought.”

“What is it?” He sought my eyes, making me look at him.

“It was her... the body found this morning.”

“I thought he said the body looked like you.”

“Well... she did, when he found her. That, plus the fact that she had your bloodstained card...”

“Wait... what?” Connor seemed genuinely surprised. “You don't think I...”

“What? Of course not.” I laughed nervously. “But Ahmed does. You were the last one to see her alive.”

“I don't blame him,” Connor admitted. “He's doing his job.”

“But he's wrong. You didn't do this!”

“You can't be sure.”

His response surprised me.

“You found me like a drunk passed out in the street.”

“You wouldn't kill a woman.”

“I've killed women, Samantha,” Connor admitted so naturally it shocked me a little. “On the job, of course.”

“Because you had no choice, probably.”

“You don't know me, Samantha,” he countered.

“I trust my intuition.” I stared at him.

“Intuition is a guide... but facts are what matter. You know that... you're a facts-and-evidence kind of girl.”

“Sometimes all we have is a nagging feeling. And it's stronger than anything.”

“You're right... but Ahmed is right about one thing.”

“What?”

“You need to stay away from me.”

“That's ridiculo—”

“Ammit is out of control.”

“And you think leaving me alone will keep me safe?”

“You can stay with Ahmed... seems like he's pretty concerned about your safety,” he said pointedly, making me furious.

“Don't you dare.”

“What? He seemed concerned.”

“It's his job.”

“Sure.” Connor went to the kitchen and poured himself another cup of coffee.

“You didn't tell me what you found at the morgue.”

“Not much.” He pulled a photo from the stack of papers on the counter. “Bob had no defensive wounds.”

“He could have been caught off guard.”

“Hard to catch a marine off guard.”

“Haaaard to catch a mariiiine off guaaaard, blah blah blah.”

“You doubt that?” Connor stared at me, and only then did I realize I'd mimicked his words out loud.

“Sorry, but you said yourself they caught you off guard at the bar.”

“I was distracted and drugged.”

“He could have been too,” I countered.

“Come to think of it... that's not such a crazy idea.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

Connor shrugged and pulled a phone from his pocket. Not his—mine. The one he'd said he hadn't seen.

“I needed to take a picture,” Connor replied without even looking at me, scrolling through my phone. “The preliminary report has something.”

“What?” I moved closer and snatched my phone from his hand.

“A partial mark on the palm of his hand,” he added. “Now that I think about it, it looked like an animal.”

“Did you actually see that at the morgue?” I asked.

“I think so. I thought it was just dirt at the time.”

I grabbed the pen and flipped over one of the sheets on the counter.

“Can you draw what you saw?”

Connor, still skeptical, took the pen from my hand and sketched something on the paper.

“See!” I shouted. “You can't get by without me!”

I celebrated while he watched me with a surprised look.

“I think we have a lead.” I ran to my files and pulled a folder from the pile. “While I was investigating my parents' disappearance, I visited some pretty creepy places.”

I opened the folder and flipped through to a note I’d made almost two years ago. In the corner of the page was the same drawing Connor had sketched.

“This place is called Azur. A Turkish nightclub down at the port,” I explained. “A real playground for tourists who often report remembering very little about their time there. If you catch my drift.”

“I don’t get what Bob would be doing there.”

“Well, word is they’ve got some pretty busty women.”

“We’re not here to get distracted by women,” he shot back.

“Well... the blonde girl...”

“I wasn’t flirting with her,” he snapped. “She said she had problems.”

Sure.

“Bob could have been following a lead,” Connor concluded. “I need to go there.”

“Not gonna happen. You need someone on the inside to invite you.”

“Do you know someone who can get me in?”

“I might,” I said coyly.

“Ahmed shouldn’t be worried about me—he should be worried about all the shady characters you know.”

“I did what I had to do,” I replied, scrolling through my contacts.