I tellhim.
“Dorrit?” he asks when I’m finished. “David Dorrit had someone do this toyou?”
“Yeah.” My voice doesn’t waver, but I feel some tears leak out of my eyes. I wipe my face with the side of my knuckle. My hand comes away dry. I wipe my face again and now I’ve just smudged my makeup. Maybe there aren’t anytears.
“That fucking guy. What the fuck—” He stops as one of the cops escorts a man over to my bed. Sweat beads along his forehead. The summerheat.
“Miss Lewis?” the mansays.
“Yes,” Isay.
“I’m Detective Cohill. Just wanted to ask you a few questions. Get a clear picture of what happened in yourapartment.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me about your night.” hesays.
“She was out having drinks withme.”
The detective and I both look atScott.
“Is this your boyfriend?” he asks, glancing at both our hands. He’s looking forrings.
“No. He's my friend andcoworker.”
“Friend and coworker, do you mind giving us aminute?”
“I'm also her lawyer,” Scottsays.
I let out a sigh. My chest hurts. I’m freezing. “He is a lawyer. I’d like him to stay,” I say even though I’m not sure if that’s how I feel. My brain is split in two. One side is protecting me, or hiding. The other side is doing the thinking for the rest of me. Scottstays.
“Well I'm not arresting you right this second,” Detective Cohill says. “So if your lawyer could let you tell me what happened that would begreat.”
I look up at Scott through my eyelashes. I know he's worried, but I know what the fuck happened. I can handlethis.
“David Dorrit Jr. tried to have me killed. He sent that man to killme.”
“David Dorrit Jr.? As intheDorrits?” He doesn't believeme.
I sit straighter and smooth my hair behind my ear. “Yes.”
“And how do you knowthis?”
Because I’m not a fuckingliar.
“I handled a case for him several months ago and he wasn't pleased with my work. The man in my apartment said David Dorrit Jr. sent him to put me to sleep with his hands. He told him to take his time killingme.”
In a previous life, I did sex work, worked as a professional dominatrix. The women I learned from taught me all their tricks, the rules and precautions to take in the trade. They told me how to avoid and if I had to, deal with violent client and law enforcement. When I left the business to practice law for good, I never thought I’d have to take those lessons with me. I never thought they’d apply when dealing with clients through Murrell, Dunne, Walmax and Wright. Foolish ofme.
“Well, I guess he didn't study his mark. The way you're built,” Detective Cohill says to my face as if women like me should take the fact that I was successful in fighting for my life just because I’m tall and thick boned as a compliment. That feeling in my chest moves up to mythroat.
“Do you know how he got into your apartment? Didn't see any signs of forcedentry.”
“I don't know,” I tell him. “He was just in there. I didn't look around before I called 9-1-1.”
“You didn’t lose any keys recently? Forget to change your locks?” Cohillasks.
“I haven’t lost a set of keys since I was nine years old. I don’t know how he gotin.”