slipped it in hers. "And if this isn't the place to let it go, let's find somewhere where you can."
"Like where?"
"My brother's casino. We can find a quiet corner."
"A quiet corner in a casino?" He looked skeptical.
"If you know where to go, absolutely."
She started to stand up but he resisted. "Gwenna, this isn't a good idea."
"Why not?"
"Because the department is going to have to ask you questions still about the online group you belong to. And if that victim is really Slash, there will be more questions. This isn't really even appropriate for us to be talking."
"So you came to the casino to interview me further. That's all. And we have been discussing it. I'm not a suspect, so why does it matter?"
"Everyone is technically a suspect. Especially if you knew the victim."
That honestly hadn't occurred to her. "I was in my hotel suite until nine forty-five. I took the train to the station, and then found him. I can prove I was at home until then because I had a fight with my ex-husband in the hallway right before I left. I'm sure at least someone had to have heard us."
"No one said you had to prove an alibi right now. We're a long way from that. We're just gathering facts right now." He stood up and gathered his trash. "You're right, let's go back to your casino."
"It's not mine." Gwenna picked up her coffee cup and followed him to the garbage, pitching hers after his. "It's Ethan's."
"But you live there, right?"
"Yes." Gwenna stuck her hands in her front pockets, suddenly wondering why it bothered her to admit that. "For now."
"So you moved from England a few months ago?"
"Five months ago."
"And what do you do for a living, Gwenna?"
That was a loaded question, though Nate couldn't possibly know that. "Not a damn thing."
----
Chapter Four
Nate Thomas had parked his car in the casino garage next to Gwenna's reserved spot, and now he was following her into the building, wondering if the reason he'd originally thought she wasn't all that smart was because she was actually incredibly sheltered. Naive as opposed to dimwitted. While she had refused to elaborate, Gwenna had made it sound like she didn't work. She had clearly gotten married at a young age, if she had already been divorced for three years. And she was living inside her brother's pimped-out casino, which was about as far from reality as you could get.
A doorman gave Gwenna a big smile as he swung open the door for her. "Good evening, Ms. Carrick, how are you?"
"Fine, thanks, Reginald. How are you tonight?"
"Oh, can't complain." The doorman was tall and broad and held the door cheerfully for Gwenna. Then he seemed to realize Nate was actually with her as opposed to just randomly walking behind her. "Who's your friend?" he asked, voice dripping with suspicion.
"This is Detective Thomas. He's here to ask me some questions." Gwenna stopped and put her hand on the doorman's sleeve. "I was at the train station and I found some poor man's body. He'd been killed, Reginald. It was horrific."
"What!" Reginald looked outraged. "That's no good, Ms. Carrick. That's just wrong."
"You've hit it exactly."
"Does Mr. Carrick know?"
"No, thank God. And let's not tell him just yet, okay?"
"Sure, whatever you say."
"Thank you, dear."
Maybe it was being British, but sometimes Nate thought Gwenna sounded a hell of a lot like his grandmother. Yet she was young and beautiful, not a wrinkle or orthopedic shoe in sight. The contrast was a curiosity he wanted to explore. There was something totally enigmatic about her. The pieces to the puzzle seemed to jumble more, and none of them fit anywhere that he could find.
"There's a restaurant over here that is only open for breakfast. It's just a little diner thing. We can go in here if you like." She paused in the entrance to the grand lobby, skirting a glass end table. "Oh, wait, I have a better idea. We'll go in the spa. It's closed for the night and it has really lovely velvet couches."
He wanted to suggest they
"Like where?"
"My brother's casino. We can find a quiet corner."
"A quiet corner in a casino?" He looked skeptical.
"If you know where to go, absolutely."
She started to stand up but he resisted. "Gwenna, this isn't a good idea."
"Why not?"
"Because the department is going to have to ask you questions still about the online group you belong to. And if that victim is really Slash, there will be more questions. This isn't really even appropriate for us to be talking."
"So you came to the casino to interview me further. That's all. And we have been discussing it. I'm not a suspect, so why does it matter?"
"Everyone is technically a suspect. Especially if you knew the victim."
That honestly hadn't occurred to her. "I was in my hotel suite until nine forty-five. I took the train to the station, and then found him. I can prove I was at home until then because I had a fight with my ex-husband in the hallway right before I left. I'm sure at least someone had to have heard us."
"No one said you had to prove an alibi right now. We're a long way from that. We're just gathering facts right now." He stood up and gathered his trash. "You're right, let's go back to your casino."
"It's not mine." Gwenna picked up her coffee cup and followed him to the garbage, pitching hers after his. "It's Ethan's."
"But you live there, right?"
"Yes." Gwenna stuck her hands in her front pockets, suddenly wondering why it bothered her to admit that. "For now."
"So you moved from England a few months ago?"
"Five months ago."
"And what do you do for a living, Gwenna?"
That was a loaded question, though Nate couldn't possibly know that. "Not a damn thing."
----
Chapter Four
Nate Thomas had parked his car in the casino garage next to Gwenna's reserved spot, and now he was following her into the building, wondering if the reason he'd originally thought she wasn't all that smart was because she was actually incredibly sheltered. Naive as opposed to dimwitted. While she had refused to elaborate, Gwenna had made it sound like she didn't work. She had clearly gotten married at a young age, if she had already been divorced for three years. And she was living inside her brother's pimped-out casino, which was about as far from reality as you could get.
A doorman gave Gwenna a big smile as he swung open the door for her. "Good evening, Ms. Carrick, how are you?"
"Fine, thanks, Reginald. How are you tonight?"
"Oh, can't complain." The doorman was tall and broad and held the door cheerfully for Gwenna. Then he seemed to realize Nate was actually with her as opposed to just randomly walking behind her. "Who's your friend?" he asked, voice dripping with suspicion.
"This is Detective Thomas. He's here to ask me some questions." Gwenna stopped and put her hand on the doorman's sleeve. "I was at the train station and I found some poor man's body. He'd been killed, Reginald. It was horrific."
"What!" Reginald looked outraged. "That's no good, Ms. Carrick. That's just wrong."
"You've hit it exactly."
"Does Mr. Carrick know?"
"No, thank God. And let's not tell him just yet, okay?"
"Sure, whatever you say."
"Thank you, dear."
Maybe it was being British, but sometimes Nate thought Gwenna sounded a hell of a lot like his grandmother. Yet she was young and beautiful, not a wrinkle or orthopedic shoe in sight. The contrast was a curiosity he wanted to explore. There was something totally enigmatic about her. The pieces to the puzzle seemed to jumble more, and none of them fit anywhere that he could find.
"There's a restaurant over here that is only open for breakfast. It's just a little diner thing. We can go in here if you like." She paused in the entrance to the grand lobby, skirting a glass end table. "Oh, wait, I have a better idea. We'll go in the spa. It's closed for the night and it has really lovely velvet couches."
He wanted to suggest they
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