Liquid Lies by Lois Lavrisa

Author:Lois Lavrisa [Lavrisa, Lois]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781468154269
Amazon: B007GQ10WS
Goodreads: 13515806
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2012-03-01T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Yes. This was just the beginning of my unraveling. Upon arriving at the Round Lake police department I was led through a long hallway. The initial shock and humiliation of being brought in for questioning had worn off. I knew I wasn’t guilty. All of this would be cleared up as soon as I found the true killer.

Maybe I should lawyer up, as the lingo went. If I called Estelle she would go into a panic and probably be too befuddled to help. Plus it would cause her way too much anxiety and she had enough going on trying to save her house from eminent domain. Ditto for Hazel.

Calling Ken was out of the question. Even though we had a long dating history, and were engaged at least until yesterday, since he dumped me I was pretty sure that he wasn’t going to help me out of this mess.

I needed to call Mark. He could find an attorney for me. His neighbor recently passed the bar exam and seemed to be sniffing around for any legal work he could get his hands on. I hope that also meant he worked for cheap or even free. Since I knew I was innocent, I just needed an attorney to get me through the system until I could prove that Jacob was the real killer.

Then it occurred to me that if I told the police who the killer was, I’d also have to tell them how I figured it out. That would lead back to the night Francesca and I killed the trucker. Perhaps the priest was right. I’d know the time to tell the truth. Maybe it was now. Or maybe I should plead the Fifth Amendment.

Detective Wurkowski took me into a drab room, about twelve feet by ten feet with institution grey painted walls, a rectangular metal table in the middle, a steel chair on both sides and a third chair off in a corner. What looked like an observation two-way mirror lined one wall. The room reeked of pine cleaner.

Detective Wurkowski motioned me to sit in the chair, facing the mirror. “Ms. Coe. We are questioning you because we have reason to believe that you may have killed Francesca Pike.”

“Yes sir. You’ve established that,” I said. “By the way, like I had said before, you can call me by my nickname, CiCi. Since we’ve been seeing each other so much, I was thinking of nicknames for you. What do you think of Detective Work?”

He shook his head.

“How about Cowski or Ski?”

He let out a huge exasperated sigh.

“Or Detective W?”

A vein in his forehead began to show. “You can call me Detective Wurkowski.”

“Got it. I’m sorry.” My face felt warm.

“Did you kill Ms. Francesca Pike?” he asked.

“No. I did not kill Francesca,” I said. “Did you ever talk to her neighbor, Doug? I told you that he may have seen her after I did, the night she was killed.”

“Yes we did.” He sat down across from me. “We are exploring all leads.

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