Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter
Fifty-One
“Is he dead?” Theo asked, more curious than worried.
I, on the other hand, was definitely worried. And horrified. And feeling sick.
“I’m scared to check,” I admitted.
“Nudge him with your foot,” she suggested.
Hoffman was my ex, and a total jerk, but I couldn’t bring myself to treat him like the bag of garbage at my feet.
Theo, who’d ended up following me toward the back of the building, had cruised outside when she heard my scream.
Judging by the lack of looky-loos, nobody else had heard me, or everyone who had was pretending they hadn’t.
I cautiously approached Hoffman where he lay sprawled face down by the dumpster. His brown hair was matted with blood, and red splatters decorated the shoulder and hood of his heather gray sweatshirt. His messenger bag lay next to him, too flat to contain any bottles.
I crouched down and reluctantly pressed two fingers to the side of Hoffman’s neck.
I stood up and backed away. “He’s alive.” I tugged my phone out of my pocket. “I’d better call for help.”
“Not yet,” Theo said, unzipping her backpack. “Take his fingerprints first.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Don’t you want to compare his prints to the ones in the speakeasy?”
“I need to call an ambulance. And the police. Someone clearly attacked him.”
“Another thirty seconds won’t kill him.”
This was one time I wouldn’t be swayed by Theo.
She crossed her arms and glared at me while I called 911. When I hung up a minute later, she tried again.
“We’ve probably got a couple of minutes before anyone shows up. You could still get his prints.”
“And how would I explain to the cops why he’s got black ink on his fingers?” I asked, standing firm.
Theo patted the backpack on her lap. “I’ve got wet wipes in here. My mom makes me carry them.”
Thankfully, the wail of a siren reached our ears. That wasn’t exactly an uncommon sound in the city, so I wasn’t sure if it was heading for the alley until the firetruck turned off the street and cut its siren.
Theo and I waited off to the side while the firefighters tended to Hoffman and then spoke with the paramedics and cops who arrived on the scene within the next couple of minutes.
By the time the paramedics had Hoffman on a stretcher, he had regained consciousness.
When he caught sight of me, he pointed an accusing finger my way. “Did you do this to me?”
“Of course not!” I planted my hands on my hips. “Why are you accusing me?”
“Someone hit me from behind.”
“It wasn’t me. I’m the one who called 911. You’re welcome,” I added acerbically when he showed no signs of gratitude.
“Where’s the whiskey you stole?” Theo called out from her spot by the building’s back door.
Hoffman scowled as the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance, but he said nothing further. As annoying as that was, I figured I already knew the answer. Whoever had attacked Hoffman had taken the booze he’d most likely stolen from Freddie’s office.
“Code four,” Theo said under her breath as I joined her by the door.
At least, that’s what I thought she said.
“What’s a code four?” I asked, confused.
“Thor, not four!” she corrected in a harsh whisper.
Detective Callahan strode past, giving us a suspicious glance on his way to the ambulance.
“Oh, great,” I said as he climbed inside to talk to Hoffman.
Theo and I spoke separately with a uniformed police officer, outlining how we’d found Hoffman in the alley. There wasn’t much to tell, so it didn’t take long, and we’d already finished by the time the detective hopped down from the back of the ambulance.
I silently warned my knees not to tremble when the detective fixed his ice-blue eyes on me. Theo returned to my side as Callahan approached.
He didn’t bother with a greeting. “It’s interesting that you were the one to find your ex out here,” he said, never blinking as he studied me.
I crossed my arms, then uncrossed them when I realized I’d taken on a defensive posture. “I’m not the one who attacked him.”
Callahan’s eyes narrowed by a hair. “I didn’t say you were.”
My arms hung awkwardly at my sides, like they didn’t belong there. The right one twitched, and I gave in to the urge to cross them over my chest again. “You were insinuating. I know Hoffman accused me, but I didn’t do it.”
Theo spoke up in my defense. “She’s been with me for the past hour. Well, for most of it, anyway.”
Oh, fantastic.
Way to help me out, Theo, I wanted to say, but instead I gritted my teeth.
Callahan’s blue eyes shifted to Theo and then returned to me. I got the feeling he was mentally fitting me for an orange jumpsuit.
“I checked the video surveillance footage from the grocery store,” he said, causing a weight to settle in my stomach. “It’s a seven-minute walk from this building to the store, and yet, on the day of the murder, you didn’t get there until nearly twenty minutes after leaving the Mirage.”
I knew what he’d left unsaid: That gave me plenty of time to sneak back into the Mirage through a side or back door, murder Freddie, flee the building, and then continue to the grocery store.
“I have shorter legs than you,” I pointed out, relieved to find that my voice wasn’t trembling like my knees were. “Plus, I stopped at the park for a few minutes to enjoy the sunshine.”
“Did anyone see you there?”
“Nobody who knows me,” I said, the weight in my stomach growing heavier.
His eyes still on me, Detective Callahan flicked open his notebook. He finally looked down to write a line or two, and I sucked in a breath, glad to be momentarily free of his intense scrutiny.
Then he hit me with the full force of his blue gaze again. “I’d appreciate it if the two of you left the scene now.” He gestured toward the open door and gave us a pointed stare.
I huffed out a sigh, and Theo rolled her eyes, but we obeyed.
“Thank you for giving me an alibi with a gaping hole in it,” I grumbled to Theo once the door had closed behind us.
“Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t have gone on that cookie run,” she said. “You know, Emersyn, you could be in big trouble.”
And orange was so not my color.