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I clear my throat, and they nod, checking their notes again. Hamish must have made a complaint after Connor beat him up. I wonder if they’re going to bring Connor in for questioning.
I almost snort. They wouldn’t have the balls. Why else would I be here? Unless Hamish lied and said I was there.
“And did it end on a sour note?”
“Define sour?” I ask dryly, finally finding a volume above a whisper.
“Did it end badly?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Hamish hounded me to put him on my rent-controlled lease. Two weeks after I did, he dumped me, gave me four hours to pack three suitcases, and kicked me out. Then he had his friend fire me. So we’re not exactlybestiesnow.”
The cops study me for a beat, and I swear one of them swallowed a grin.
“And where do you live now?” Trying-not-to-smile cop asks me.
“I live with my boyfriend.”
They share a look. “And his name is?”
I chew my lip for a moment. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to say Connor’s name. I can’t not say anything. I don’t want my baby stuck in a prison cell for not cooperating or whatever the charge would be.
“Connor Fitzpatrick,” I whisper. They both sigh in unison like they were expecting it.
“Mr. MacLauchlan asserts that a Connor Fitzpatrick paid him a visit at his apartment, viciously beat him with no apparent motive, apart from mentioning your name.”
They both fall silent as they watch me, but I school my face into a blank expression, wondering where they are going with this. When I don’t speak, the first cop continues.
“Mr. MacLauchlan was insistent about pressing charges against this Connor Fitzpatrick….” the cop hesitates, a flicker of something in his face. Oh. I almost giggle when I realize his dilemma.
They came to me hoping it was some random Connor Fitzpatrick, not Lucky Fitzpatrick of the Irish mafia. They don’t want to press charges against Connor. Or they can’t. I’m pretty sure the police force is rife with corruption. Hell, this whole city is rife with corruption.
“If you could confirm a few things regarding Mr. Fitzpatrick.” The cop clears his throat, and I smirk at him.
“He’s the Connor Fitzpatrick you think he is,” I drawl, feeling smug when they try but fail to hide their grimaces. “My boyfriend, that is. I have no idea if he attacked Hamish. All I know is that Hamish has been harassing me. I can show you the messages if you allow me to get my phone out of my pocketbook.”
The cops nod stiffly, looking a little relieved that there might be a reason for them to rubbish Hamish’s claims.
Digging out my phone, I open the message thread and slide it across the table to them. Hunching over my phone, they scroll back through the messages, reading them all until they reach the ones from when Hamish kicked me out. The first cop offers me a small smile.
“Given the circumstantial nature of Mr. MacLauchlan’s statement and the evidence that he was harassing you, there is no need for us to pursue this matter further.”
The cop rubs his hands together as his partner returns my phone.
“We can arrange for you to be dropped back at your vehicle.”
Uh, no. They’re not getting out of this that easily. They have terrorized me for no reason. I want to see them squirm.
I smile, sitting back in my chair. “Oh, no need, I’ll arrange a lift. Thank you.”
I stand, and they hurriedly shove to their feet, leading me out of the foyer while stammering about it being no trouble arranging a lift.
Um. No. Connor will come and have a word with these people, and I’m going to enjoy thefuckout of it.
Chapter NINETEEN
CONNOR
My phone buzzes in my pocket as Paddy holds up a yellow duck with a blue egg patterned gift set.
