I swallowed back the inappropriate desire to engage him in some sultry dirty talk and instead leaned against the wall across from him. I was about to open my mouth, was working up the perfect post-suicide sentence when Pike hitched his shoulder at me and silently walked away.
I fought the urge to growl and then the urge to crawl under my bed and hide. I wasn’t used to people walking away from me—especially not male people. I was working up a reason to follow Pike when Emerson stopped behind me, close enough that her patchouli scent wafted off her and stuck to me. I grimaced, then immediately pasted on an appropriately demure smile.
“This is awful, isn’t it?”
She actually shrugged. “Hate to speak ill of the dead, but the coward was obviously too scared to show his face after he stole my fabric.”
My voice was a hissing whisper. “Are you kidding me? A man is dead, and you’re still focused on your fabric? God, even Pike,” I said, jutting my chin toward him, desperate to feel his name on my tongue again. “A complete stranger feels more for Reginald than you do.”
Emerson shook her head, that gnat-in-her-ear expression on her face. “Pike is no stranger.” She waved her hand in his general direction. “He’s an ex.”
I hoped to God that Emerson meant an ex to Reginald or Felipe because even finding out that the love of my life was gay was preferable to finding out that he may have once been attracted to someone like Emerson. “He hangs around a lot. Kind of can’t get the message.”
I felt my mouth drop wide open. By the pleased purse on Emerson’s lips, I could tell that she knew she’d hit a nerve. She looked about to say something smart but was silenced by an officer carrying a Ziploc bag stuffed with hideous fabric.
Emerson made a tiny puppy sound, then shoved me out of the way. “Where are you taking that? That is my fabric!” she yelled. “I told you he stole it.” She snatched the whole bag out of the officer’s gloved hand and gaped. “It’s ruined!”
The officer snatched the bag back. “It’s evidence.”
“Evidence?” Emerson said. “But it’s mine. I need it for the competition!”
Pike came over to us, getting in front of Emerson and letting the cop scurry away. “Reginald used that fabric to hang himself.”
“Oh, my God,” I whispered.
“Did he use it all? Do I have enough for my garment?”
I swung my head toward Emerson, astonished. “That’s what you’re worried about? Your stupid fabric?”
“We’re in a competition, Nina, or have you forgotten?”
“We’re at the scene of a suicide!” Part of me wanted to give Emerson’s neck a little slash just to see what kind of demon she was. But I could hear her breath, hear the blood pumping from her heart and pulsing through her human veins. My stomach turned in on itself knowing that someone still in possession of her soul could be so callous. “A man is dead.”
“Can you ask someone about the extra fabric?” she asked Pike.
“I’m just a photographer, but I can ask one of the cops. . . .” he said, though clearly uncomfortable as he stepped back.
“I cannot believe you, Emerson. I knew you were a snake but I didn’t peg you for completely heartless. Reginald is dead.”
“And I’m sorry for that,” she said unconvincingly. “But he was still a competitor.”
I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my head and for once, I couldn’t think of a thing to say. That seemed to be just fine to Emerson, who shrugged again.
“And then there were two,” she said before walking back toward her apartment.
I was shaking my head, still shocked, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and blinked into the slate-gray eyes of yet another police officer. This one was short and stocky, with tree-trunk legs and a little leather notebook clutched in his baseball-mitt hands. He used the tip of his Bic to scratch at his receding hairline. “Are you the one who discovered the body?”
For some reason, my voice was stuck in my throat so I nodded, dumbly.
“I just need to take a quick statement. Your name and address, please.”
I must have recited everything properly because the cop seemed satisfied. He looked up from his notebook, eyes laser-focused on mine. “What was the state of the body when you first entered the premises?”