“Huh, all right.” A silent pause lingered, and then Chelsea yawned loudly into the intercom. “It’s morning. How can I help you? detectives?”
We’d like to have a quick word with you, if that’s okay?” McDonald leaned over the intercom box.
“Oh.” Chelsea’s voice jumped up an octave or two.
Dunne glanced at McDonald and whispered, “Well, that got her attention.” The nervous tone of her voice replayed in his thoughts.
“Seems that way.” McDonald nodded his head.
“W-what about?” Her voice cracked.
“If you could let us in, we won’t keep you long,” said McDonald in his most charming voice.
Buzzzzzzz.
At the sound of the doors unlocking, Dunne entered followed by McDonald.
Dunne glanced left then right. Nothing seemed out of place in the pristine entrance.
No doubt, the twenty-five flats were owned and rented by professionals, all with well-paid jobs. No urinated stairwells assaulted his nose. The corners remained rubbish free, and not a mark of graffiti lurked for the eyes to see.
“Come on.” Dunne pushed through the entrance of the stairwell. “What was the number again?”
“Twenty-five.” McDonald took the stairs two at a time.
Once on the floor, and in front of the door, McDonald rang the bell.
The door swung open, and a burst of lavender mixed with Jasmine, wafted from her flat.
“Morning.” Chelsea, wrapped in a dressing gown with messy bedhead hair, leaned on the door frame.
“Morning, no work today?” Dunne ran his eyes over her, taking in her dishevelled appearance.
She looked like she had a late night. The dark circles under her eyes a tell-tale sign. Plus, her constant yawning. He glanced behind her into the flat, searching for any visitors she may have, but no one appeared to be there. There was no other lightening inside her home, and the curtains to the living area remained closed.
“No, it’s my day off today.”
A yawn escaped her lips, then she focused in closely on Dunne and his partner, as if taking in their suits and physique.
He and his partner were of similar height and build, but they had striking differences. Dunne’s milk chocolate skin contrasted against his pale blue shirt, whereas McDonald’s unusual mix of dark mahogany-coloured hair with icy blue eyes now seemed to hold her attention.
“Come in.” She waved Dunne and his partner inside, then pointed behind her. “Go straight on into the living room.”
Both Dunne and McDonald stepped over the threshold, then made their way into the open plan living space.
Off to the left, Dunne visually took in an attached kitchen area—he cleared the room again visually, ruling out any additional occupants, then turned his attention to the living room.
Expensive, name brand leather sofas occupied the room.
A large television mounted on the wall was set to the ready position, and a perfect view of London filled the ceiling to floor windows.
Chelsea had gotten lucky when her late lover included her in his will, mused Dunne. He smoothed his beard and took in the sterile, almost picture-perfect book appearance of the area.
“Take a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Chelsea walked down a short hallway to what Dunne suspected was the bedroom.
McDonald took a seat, and Dunne joined him on the sofa.
Dunne leaned into his partner and whispered, “Wasn’t this one of the properties he left her?”
“Yep. And from what I remember, it’s just one of many.”
“Damn, not bad,” Dunne said under his breath, then took another look around. “Well, I can see why his family was so pissed she got everything.”
“Exactly.”
Dunne pondered the deceased millionaire’s state of mind when he changed his will and cut his estranged wife and family out, leaving everything to a younger woman he had recently met.
“Two months he had a fling with her.” McDonald checked his watch. “And she got everything?”
Chelsea appeared at the doorway dressed in a simple black dress. “So, what can I do for you gentlemen? Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No thanks,” replied Dunne.
“Naw. I’m all good,” said McDonald.
“We have a few questions for you.” Dunne decided to just dive in since he didn’t have all day.
4
De ja Vu
Chelsea
Chelsea lowered herself onto the sofa opposite Dunne and McDonald, then covered her face with her hands.
“Not this again. I thought we were done. I’ve not done anything. I have no idea—”
“Look, Chelsea, we understand that,” replied Dunne. “His murder was closed and left as a cold case. But we have a few more questions for you. Something else has come to light.”
Chelsea’s gaze flashed back to meet Dunne’s dark brown eyes in an instant.
What? She gripped the hem of her skirt, then smoothed the fabric over her thighs.
Dunne’s words caused her pulse to race for a second, but she recovered and focused on getting her body language in check. She remained cautious, not wanting to appear on edge by the unexpected news.
Chelsea remembered all too well how observant Dunne and his little side kick were, especially during the last investigation into Tony’s murder. The last thing she needed was to be in the spotlight, again.
She didn’t relish being under the thumbs of the detectives or for Tony’s family to examine her life under a microscope.
Her mind briefly moved to Manisha—Tony’s estranged but very legal wife.
This can’t be happening! I bet she’s behind all this, she thought.
She tossed the situation around in her mind as if to try and place exactly what could have come to light that would send Dunne back to her doorstep. Her fear turned to rage.
A steady heat pooled in her stomach and made its way through her body, invoking her anger. The mere thought of Tony’s family, or anyone else for that matter, messing up her plans again didn’t settle well.
Chelsea took a deep breath, smoothed over her hair, then fixed the most innocent face for Dunne and McDonald she could muster.
She placed a hand over her heart and got into character as if to resume her delegated role to remain off Dunne’s radar.
“What do you mean something else has come to light?” She widened her eyes and glanced from Dunne to McDonald. “Do we have more
