Free Devil's Own by Susan Laine

but warned the men not to interrupt her.
    “Hiya, Reggie,” Niall said with a smile. The woman may have been spirited as a bull, but she was a good friend and an excellent ME. “I know it’s probably too soon, but did you manage to take a look at Florian Talbot?”
    “The latest rich stiff? No, I didn’t. My assistant, Nell, gave him a cursory prelim. I’m gonna do a full workup once I’m done with this one.” The body of a young Caucasian male lay on the table, chest open and intestines in full view.
    Niall looked away. He had never been a fan of autopsies. Not that he was squeamish about dead bodies, but seeing them open like this still churned his stomach. And a part of him saw it as disrespectful for anyone other than an ME to see them so exposed. “Anything weird?”
    “Like?” Regina Mendoza prompted, working.
    “C’mon, Doc,” Hughes said next to Niall, letting out a muffled burp. “Murder. Yes or no?”
    “From what Nell told me, his head was smashed in with a lamp. Pretty sure he didn’t do it to himself,” Regina responded laconically.
    “Time of death?” Niall didn’t like the confusion the method of death created. Only a precise TOD would help dispel the inflammatory burden landing on Angelina Talbot. And he knew Regina had asked about her assistant’s findings by now.
    “Body temp suggested estimated time of death is between three and five a.m.”
    Niall let out a relieved breath. Angelina had made the call to the police at 2:12 a.m., and she had arrived at her friend’s house around quarter to three. That meant she was in the clear. “Guess Mrs. Talbot—um, soon-to-be Ms. Yates again, that is, didn’t do it.”
    Hughes harrumphed. “Yeah, I figured. From the onset this didn’t feel like one of them easy-to-wrap-up kind of cases.” He shook his head wearily, pursing his lips. “Back to square one.”
    “Can I see the crime-scene photos?” Niall knew he was pushing it. As a PI, not a cop, he was in effect a civilian and wasn’t allowed to see evidence from an active police inquiry. But the police department had an understanding of sorts with private investigators. If the cops aided the PI in solving the case, the cops were allowed to take most, or all, of the credit—even if the PI was the one to crack the case. For positive publicity, leeway was given to PIs.
    “One of these days, I’m gonna say no. Then what you gonna do?” Hughes was only jibing Niall. Humor laced his tone. He was already on his way out the door when he hollered, “Get me more results soon, will ya, Reggie?”
    “Don’t I always?” She might have murmured something far less flattering under her breath, but wisely Niall snuck out of the room before he heard anything inappropriate.
     
     
    “M R . V ALENTINE , good to see you again.” Mrs. Talbot addressed Niall as she sat down in the interview room back at the police station. After Niall and Hughes had a quick bite to eat, Hughes had asked her to come, and Niall was glad she had acquiesced—and without a lawyer too.
    Niall nodded to her. “Mrs. Talbot.”
    Angelina shook her head, her lips tightening into a white-lined grimace. “Please, call me Ms. Yates. I won’t be a Talbot for much longer.” Her chin lifted proudly, but Niall detected a sign of anger as well. Angelina must not have appreciated being laughed at in such a cruel manner. This Niall understood.
    “Ms. Yates.” Hughes sat down next to Niall on the opposite side of the table, but Niall knew only Hughes would be asking questions. Niall was allowed to be here out of courtesy, and he didn’t want that privilege revoked. And he admitted he was beyond curious about the locked room mystery, so he didn’t want to get booted out under any circumstances.
    Hughes proceeded to verify Angelina’s personal information first before asking her to recount her story. She did, and Niall listened carefully for any inconsistencies between what she had told him and what she was telling now. There