of investigation, and my few more questions need to take place down at the station.”
My eyes grew wide. “What? I don’t understand. How could that be?” If she had help, he must mean assisted suicide or murder. “Why would anyone want to murder a boutique owner?”
“That is what we need to find out. Ride with me to the station.”
“But my car…” I trailed off, thinking if only I had not forgotten my wallet I wouldn’t have discovered Solange and be on my way to the police station. What a nightmare. “Am I a suspect?”
“Don’t worry about your car. I’ll make sure you get back to it when we are finished. You admittedly were the last person to see her alive and found the body, so I need to know everything you know. Yes. Technically, you’re a suspect.”
OMG, I couldn’t believe this. Why did I have the bad luck to be one of the last, if not the last, people to be around others who were murdered? This was like the senator situation all over again, and I knew the police investigating that. This was much scarier. What if he thought I was involved?
We walked out to where he was illegally parked in front of the store. Nice cop perk, I guessed. “I don’t have to sit in the back do I?” I didn’t know why I was more freaked out about riding in the back of the car verses the actual car itself. I guess I didn’t want to look like a common criminal or any kind of criminal for that matter. The whole thought of riding in a police car freaked me out.
He chuckled. “No. You can sit up front with me. I don’t think you’re a flight risk or that you’ll harm me.”
Thank goodness. What a night. Wait until Anna and Jared, my two best friends, heard about this, they wouldn’t believe it, I still didn’t believe it. Who would have thought a simple job in retail would turn out like this?
Chapter 2
I had of course been in police stations before, but not one in Chicago, and this had an entirely different feel than the one in my small hometown. It was much more grimy, and not nearly as open and friendly. It definitely wasn’t a sleepy country police station. By now it was just after 11 p.m., and it seemed the police station was just starting to ramp up. But then, night is when all the crooks come out. Though, in Chicago, crooks were often out at all times, especially in certain parts of the city.
Detective Landon—Willie—told me to sit on the very uncomfortable chairs in, I guess, what was probably the station’s waiting room. He told me he would come get me when he was ready and disappeared in the back somewhere, doing who knew what. Ready for what, I didn’t know. I believed I shouldn’t be worried, since I hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe this was part of his method to get criminals to talk. Let them sit and stew. It was stressing me out. After about thirty long minutes of waiting—they really needed magazines in this place or a TV or something—Willie came to get me.
“C’mon. Follow me.”
“I got up and obediently followed him back through a maze of desks to a bank of what I assumed were interrogation rooms across the back wall. This was sort of interesting. I filed it away mentally in case I ever decided to write about a crime.
“Have a seat, Presley. Can I get you anything? Water, soda?”
“Is this the part where you try to make me think we’re friends?” I said nervously. “That’s what cops do in TV shows.”
“Aren’t we friends?” He smiled. He had a nice smile.
“Well, I just met you, so I’m not sure I’d classify us as friends, but I guess we aren’t enemies either.” I smiled back. What was going on? I think we were flirting. Just a little. But still, it wasn’t the best time for this. What was wrong with me?
“Okay. I need you to walk me through the entire day at the store…”
“Boutique,” I interrupted.
He looked at me funny.
“Solange had a fit when anyone called it a store. She always said stores were where you bought
My eyes grew wide. “What? I don’t understand. How could that be?” If she had help, he must mean assisted suicide or murder. “Why would anyone want to murder a boutique owner?”
“That is what we need to find out. Ride with me to the station.”
“But my car…” I trailed off, thinking if only I had not forgotten my wallet I wouldn’t have discovered Solange and be on my way to the police station. What a nightmare. “Am I a suspect?”
“Don’t worry about your car. I’ll make sure you get back to it when we are finished. You admittedly were the last person to see her alive and found the body, so I need to know everything you know. Yes. Technically, you’re a suspect.”
OMG, I couldn’t believe this. Why did I have the bad luck to be one of the last, if not the last, people to be around others who were murdered? This was like the senator situation all over again, and I knew the police investigating that. This was much scarier. What if he thought I was involved?
We walked out to where he was illegally parked in front of the store. Nice cop perk, I guessed. “I don’t have to sit in the back do I?” I didn’t know why I was more freaked out about riding in the back of the car verses the actual car itself. I guess I didn’t want to look like a common criminal or any kind of criminal for that matter. The whole thought of riding in a police car freaked me out.
He chuckled. “No. You can sit up front with me. I don’t think you’re a flight risk or that you’ll harm me.”
Thank goodness. What a night. Wait until Anna and Jared, my two best friends, heard about this, they wouldn’t believe it, I still didn’t believe it. Who would have thought a simple job in retail would turn out like this?
Chapter 2
I had of course been in police stations before, but not one in Chicago, and this had an entirely different feel than the one in my small hometown. It was much more grimy, and not nearly as open and friendly. It definitely wasn’t a sleepy country police station. By now it was just after 11 p.m., and it seemed the police station was just starting to ramp up. But then, night is when all the crooks come out. Though, in Chicago, crooks were often out at all times, especially in certain parts of the city.
Detective Landon—Willie—told me to sit on the very uncomfortable chairs in, I guess, what was probably the station’s waiting room. He told me he would come get me when he was ready and disappeared in the back somewhere, doing who knew what. Ready for what, I didn’t know. I believed I shouldn’t be worried, since I hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe this was part of his method to get criminals to talk. Let them sit and stew. It was stressing me out. After about thirty long minutes of waiting—they really needed magazines in this place or a TV or something—Willie came to get me.
“C’mon. Follow me.”
“I got up and obediently followed him back through a maze of desks to a bank of what I assumed were interrogation rooms across the back wall. This was sort of interesting. I filed it away mentally in case I ever decided to write about a crime.
“Have a seat, Presley. Can I get you anything? Water, soda?”
“Is this the part where you try to make me think we’re friends?” I said nervously. “That’s what cops do in TV shows.”
“Aren’t we friends?” He smiled. He had a nice smile.
“Well, I just met you, so I’m not sure I’d classify us as friends, but I guess we aren’t enemies either.” I smiled back. What was going on? I think we were flirting. Just a little. But still, it wasn’t the best time for this. What was wrong with me?
“Okay. I need you to walk me through the entire day at the store…”
“Boutique,” I interrupted.
He looked at me funny.
“Solange had a fit when anyone called it a store. She always said stores were where you bought
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