How to Fall in Love by Cecelia Ahern

Author:Cecelia Ahern
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2013-10-03T06:00:00+00:00

14

How to Have Your Cake and Eat It

Detective Maguire sat across the table from me in an interrogation room in Pearse Street garda station. His eyes were bloodshot, with crinkled bags underneath as though he’d had a hard night partying the night before. Once again I knew this not to be true. He’d grudgingly agreed to see me, warning that for the time being he would merely listen to my story before deciding whether to refer me to his colleagues. I understood that to mean he was acting as a filter; if my complaint wasn’t worth it, he didn’t want to waste garda time. I felt my forehead prickle with sweat. The room was suffocating, with no windows and no ventilation. If I were a suspect I’d have been ready admit to anything, to get out of there. Thankfully, I’d insisted on the door being left open so I could keep an eye on Adam.

‘Are you in the habit of picking up suicide victims?’ Detective Maguire had asked when I arrived with Adam.

‘I’m helping him with a job placement actually.’ It wasn’t a total lie.

I checked the door once again to make sure Adam was still there. He looked bored and tired but at least he was present.

‘You always bring your work home with you?’ he asked.

‘You ever go home?’ I snapped.

I realised too late that he’d been on the verge of opening up for once. My snapping immediately caused him to retreat to his shell; the force field went back up, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, clearly berating himself over his weakness in letting his mask slip.

My response left me feeling guilty; I realised I preferred dealing with the tough Maguire. I didn’t want to relax and start sharing trade secrets with this man.

‘So tell me again, you think a man wearing a black leather jacket and turtle-neck jumper, possibly an Eastern European, smashed your windscreen with a hurley stick because you possibly witnessed a drug sale between this man and a black car with tinted windows – of which you can remember no other details – on a country lane, for which you can’t provide directions or a location because you were playing a game of getting lost. Have I got that right?’ His tone was bored.

‘My friend Julie’s windscreen, not mine, but yes, the rest of that is correct.’ It had taken me three days to make a report about the windscreen, partly because I was helping Amelia with her mother’s funeral arrangements, partly because of my schedule with Adam but mostly because I was avoiding having to spend a single second in Detective Maguire’s company, though in the end I knew he was the one who could help me.

‘Why possibly Eastern European?’

‘He had that look,’ I said quietly, wishing I hadn’t mentioned that part at all. ‘He was enormous, strong jaw, wide shoulders. But then he had a hurley stick, which made him look more Irish …’ I trailed off, my face reddening at the amusement on his face.

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