Vexed on a Visit by Fiona Grace

Author:Fiona Grace [Grace, Fiona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fiona Grace
Published: 2020-06-11T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Lacey jiggled her knees nervously. Did all UK police questioning rooms look the same? Utilitarian, with that strange sparkly linoleum flooring and white ceiling tiles, and those hard-backed uncomfortable plastic chairs? It was stiflingly hot inside as well, since the day was turning out to be a gloriously warm one. The sort Lacey would much prefer to spend on the beach sunbathing rather than in a police station sweating.

She tugged the collar of her shirt. “Can we open the window?”

From the table across from her, DCI Brass looked up from her paperwork and nodded to DCI Fryer, who had, so far, been completely silent. He stood, looking out of place in his preppy 1950s college boy attire, and pushed open the awning-style window. It barely opened two inches, and did next to nothing to let any fresh air into the room. Lacey wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans.

“Let’s go through everything again,” DCI Brass said, shuffling her papers. “You’re on vacation with your family, right? So where did you travel here from?”

“Wilfordshire,” Lacey said. “Devon.”

“The UK?” DCI Brass asked, surprised.

“I live here. I moved to England from New York earlier in the year.”

“What prompted the move?”

Lacey wriggled uncomfortably in her seat. Her divorce from David was none of DCI Brass’s business, and had absolutely no relation to the investigation into Desmond’s killing. And yet what choice did she have but to divulge her most painful experience to these probing strangers? Any resistance on her part would look suspicious. Doubly so thanks to the beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

“My marriage fell apart,” she said, not quite able to bring herself to say the dreaded “D” word. She was surprised, too, to realize just how much sadness it brought her to admit. She’d barely had five minutes to truly think about the implosion of her fourteen-year marriage. Now she could tell she’d kept herself busy to purposefully avoid thinking about it.

DCI Brass slid her notebook across the table to Lacey. “We’ll need your address.” She placed a pen on top of the pad.

Whenever Lacey had given personal details to the police in Wilfordshire, they’d typed them straight into a computer system. This seemed like an attempt to get her handwriting, which would suggest there was some piece of evidence from the scene involving handwriting. Lacey filed the thought away in the filing system of her mind dedicated to Desmond’s death.

“Something wrong?” DCI Brass commented.

“No, no, not at all.” Lacey snatched up the pen and scrawled down the address for Crag Cottage, wondering if she was shooting herself in the foot. DCI Brass would run her address through the system and see she’d had dealings with the police in Wilfordshire on more than one occasion. Any detective worth their salt would follow that up by calling the local police station for the lowdown. If Brass got through to DCI Beth Lewis, Lacey would probably be okay. She and the female detective tended to see eye to eye. But if Superintendent Turner took the call? Well, in that case, she may as well kiss her freedom goodbye.

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