Copy Cap Murder by Jenn McKinlay

pocketed his phone and came back over. “Well, I guess they are figuring things out.”
    â€œIs the office open again?” I asked.
    â€œIt will be tomorrow, but not to me,” he said.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” I asked.
    â€œIt seems I’ve been suspended from my position without pay until further notice,” Harrison said.
    â€œOh, no!”
    â€œOh, yes,” he said. “It looks as though they’ve made up their mind about who is guilty of killing Winthrop Dashavoy. Me.”

Chapter 9

    â€œBut that’s ridiculous!” I said. “They have absolutely no right to do that to you.”
    â€œAccording to Reese, my altercation with Win proves that I had ill will toward my colleague, that I took advantage of his drunken state to thrash him, and they suspect that I got too carried away and strangled him with his necktie,” he said. “I think they find it particularly distasteful that it was the company tie I used to kill him.”
    â€œThat is absurd. I was there and you didn’t strangle him, you socked him in the eye. You were most definitely not apart from me long enough to choke someone and then hide their body,” I said. I reached for my cell phone.
    â€œWhat are you doing, Ginger?”
    â€œI’m calling DI Simms,” I said. “He needs to know thatyou were with me, that I am vouching for you, and that there is absolutely no way you could have done such a horrible thing.”
    Harrison put his hand on mine, keeping me from searching for Simms’s number.
    â€œI really appreciate the support,” he said. “But having you call on my behalf like a worried mum is not going to help me. In fact, I fear it will just make me look more guilty.”
    I gave him a flat stare. “Is that even possible?”
    â€œOuch,” he said.
    â€œListen, I’m not saying you are guilty, but if I was on the outside looking in, it would look bad for you,” I said. “You and Win have been rivals since childhood; there is an ugly history there that you told me about yourself. It’s not going to be difficult for the police to find the same information.”
    Harrison rubbed a hand over his eyes. I knew I was badgering but he needed to get a grasp of how serious the situation was and he needed to let me help him. Damn it.
    â€œYou got into a fistfight with Win in front of witnesses, just minutes before someone strangled him and now you’ve been suspended from your job. Harry, it doesn’t look good. You have to let me advocate on your behalf,” I said.
    He shook his head. “No, I won’t let you get dragged into this any more than you already have.” He tapped the article in the newspaper to emphasize his point.
    I would have argued but he started to pace around the shop, so I knew he was working through something. He was muttering to himself, another indicator of processing, so I waited.
    â€œSuspended. How can they suspend me?” he asked noone. “I am their best analyst. I bring in millions in revenue. They’ve known me for years. How could they even think that I would do anything so vile, so horrible, so evil?”
    He paused by the front window and stared out onto the street. I felt for him. I knew what it was like to have the entire world watching you, judging you, thinking things about you that were unflattering and untrue. In my case, I packed up and moved to another country. I didn’t think he had that option.
    The Metropolitan Police might not have arrested him yet but they definitely did not want him to leave the country either. DI Simms would listen to me. I knew he would and it was imperative that they not waste time trying to prove that it was Harrison, because the real killer was out there, and whether I liked Win or not,
not
, his killer must be brought to justice.
    Harrison resumed pacing and muttering again. He was working his way back to the counter when his phone rang