from The Haunted Lost Rose by C.L.Bauer
I survived the lengthy interrogation, supposedly a statement about the murder, but it was certainly a questioning of the “gotcha” format. They even made me go downtown to walk through the building almost like a “perp walk”, meet with a Detective Marino, and flee out of the building feeling frazzled and befuddled, and every other word that describes sheer hell.
Along the way, my legal representation was greeted by many who missed him in court. We ran into many of his old friends. Dad was definitely in his element. Then we ran into Paddy. My own brother pretended to not even notice me. Dad and he talked briefly in the hallway, and I slumped against a wall as I perfected my talent of invisibility. Over the years, I’d become very good at blending in and going unnoticed. During the lunch after Conor’s death, no one saw me sitting in the corner for over an hour. I liked being the wallflower; attention only made me aware of my flaws and insecurities.
My voice was weak and wavering after thirty minutes of time-sensitive questions. Finally, my father tapped his hand on the table in front of us.
“Detective, let’s make this easy for you. Tom and Charlotte O’Donohue were the man’s realtors. Charlotte clearly had a meeting set up with Mr. Martin that morning. There is proof she called her brother on her way there. It was beginning to snow. Mr. Martin’s car was parked in the lot before her arrival. The door was locked. She went in and discovered the man’s body. What more do you want?”
The detective coolly searched through the file folder in front of him. “What about the rose he gave you?”
“No, the rose was on the mantle when I arrived. He didn’t give me a rose.”
“Did he ever give you flowers?”
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