Page 12 of XOXO, Little Butterfly (The Storyteller’s Bodyguard #2)

Tristan

“What did you think of Ms. Connelly, Mr. Morra?” Detective Douchebag starts questioning me.

I recall the last time I saw her and the conversation we had. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to know her that well, but she seemed like a kind lady.” Until I realized she betrayed Birdie, sleeping with her husband under her roof.

“Was Ms. Connelly and Mrs. Abel on good terms? Did they like each other?”

“They’ve been working together for so many years, so I guess, yes.”

“Have you ever felt that Ms. Connelly was jealous of Mrs. Abel?”

My gaze narrows. “Everybody is jealous of my client. Everybody wants a piece of what she has.” Like you .

He takes his time studying my face. “In your opinion, which piece did Ms. Connelly want?”

I shrug.

“Her money? Her fame?” He leans his head forward. “Her husband?”

“You think Abel was having an affair with Ms. Connelly behind my client’s back?”

“You tell me.”

“I’ll tell you what I know.” I clasp my hands and rest my elbows on the table. “Any man who cheats on Birdie Abel is a dickhead.”

He waits for me to say more, but I just smile. Infidelity and murder go hand in hand. If he thinks for one second he can spin off my words into a motive to use against Birdie, he’s in for a mighty disappointment.

“When was the last time you saw Ms. Connelly?”

“The day Katie Saldana was announced dead. Ms. Connelly was at the house until late at night.”

“Does she stay late at Mrs. Abel’s house often?”

“I think so. Mrs. Abel told me her assistant sometimes stayed over in the guestroom downstairs.” Where she fucked her husband.

“If they were that close, on a harsh day like that, don’t you think Ms. Connelly would have stayed over, especially if she was there at a late hour already?”

That was probably Gia’s intention, but she was upset Birdie yelled at her and left.

I’m not stupid to give him that much, though.

Birdie had a fight with Gia. Police can twist that into motive, too.

“Maybe, but we turned the guestroom into the control room when we took the job, and all other rooms were occupied by the team.”

He smirks. “Convenient.”

Wipe that shit off your ugly face or I’ll wipe it for you. “Excuse me?”

“Where were you on March 11th between seven p.m. and one a.m. on March 12th?”

My nostrils flare. “With Mrs. Abel, doing my job, protecting her while she’s out having dinner with you at The Alchemist.”

The motherfucker smirks again. “What time did you reach her house after dinner?”

“A little before midnight. I didn’t leave the house until the next evening. You’re welcome to check the security footage to confirm.”

“How do you describe Blake Abel as a person, Mr. Morra?”

A piece of shit that doesn’t deserve Birdie, just like you. But what’s Abel got to do with Gia’s death when I’m one hundred percent positive her killer is in this room? “He’s my client’s husband.”

“And?”

“It’s hard to form an opinion about a man you’ve only met once,” I lie.

“When did you meet him?”

Eight years ago. “My first day on the job at my client’s house.”

“Was he still living with Mrs. Abel back then?”

“No. He’d stopped by. Was shocked she hired us without his approval. He got angry and tried to fire us. When she stood up for herself, he…” My fists ball as I remember the feeling of his face bruising under my punches.

“He what?”

“Became a threat to my client I had to neutralize.”

“He attacked her?”

I nod. “It’s all on camera. Again, you’re welcome to check the footage. Why the sudden interest in my client’s husband?”

“Please just answer the questions, Mr. Morra. Was Mr. Abel carrying that day he attacked your client?”

You little piece of shit. When I prove you’re the stalker bastard, I’m gonna enjoy watching you take your last breath. Let’s see who will have the power then.

“Mr. Morra?”

I nod again. “I confiscated the weapon after he tried to attack her.”

“Where is it now?”

I think you know exactly where it is. I see what you’re doing here, scumbag. You want to pin your murder on Abel and be the fucking hero in Birdie’s eyes. Not on my watch, you prick. “I returned it to him after the team escorted him out of the premises.”

He stares at me for a while. I stare back without a blink.

He clicks his pen and turns a page on his notepad. “What kind of gun did he carry?”

“A Glock 23.”