Free Sweet Revenge (Cocoa Narel Chocolate Shop Mysteries Book 1) by Morgana Best Page A

the dead man was Ridgewell?”
    The room started to spin and I thought I’d be sick. I leaned forward and put my head between my knees. Neither detective commented for a while, and I assume they thought I was pretending to be upset. Finally, Detective Clyde spoke. “Can I get you some water?”
    I gingerly sat up. The room had stopped spinning and my stomach had settled. “Yes, please. Was Ridgewell the victim?”
    “It is we who ask the questions,” Detective Clyde said as he left the room, hopefully to get me some water.
    I shot a look at Rieker, and he nodded. “Yes. For the record, how do you know the victim?”
    I rubbed my temples. “I went to school with him. He was one of The Populars.”
    “The Populars?” Rieker raised his eyebrows.
    “The Populars—you know, the most popular kids in school. That was a nickname for them.”
    “Were you jealous of them?”
    I shook my head. “No. They weren’t popular; they just thought they were, and they were mean. They were spiteful and nasty and everything else. They were terrible bullies. Have you seen those shows about mean kids in high school on TV?”
    Rieker just looked at me, but I pressed on. “Well, The Populars were much worse. All The Populars were bullies and really nasty people. They bullied people like me.”
    Rieker’s ears pricked up at that and I thought perhaps I had said too much. “So you were angry with them?”
    “Yes, as is everyone with people who bully them,” I said. “But I didn’t murder him, if that’s what you’re thinking. Guy Smith was one of The Populars, too.”
    By now, Rieker’s eyebrows had risen so far that I thought they might go flying off his head. “And you had reason to resent him, too.” He said it as a statement rather than the question.
    “I had reason to resent all The Populars, and in fact I did resent them all, just as anyone resents people who relentlessly bully them,” I said again. “But that doesn’t mean I would murder them. If I were going to murder them, I would have done it back in high school.”
    Rieker did not appear to be convinced by my protests. “What exactly did Ridgewell Dugan do to you?”
    “What do you mean?” I asked him.
    Detective Clyde came back through the door and handed me a glass of water. I took a sip, but it reeked of chloride. I put it down abruptly.
    “I am asking you for examples of the alleged bullying that Ridgewell Dugan perpetrated on you in high school,” Rieker said.
    I nodded. “Oh, I see. He stole my phone and sent text messages from my phone inviting the boys out and even inviting the principal on a date, along with lewd comments. The principal didn’t believe me and I got more detention.” I realized I was gritting my teeth as I said it, and hope that wasn’t implicating myself further. “Anyway, I wasn’t the only one they bullied. They bullied a few other people. I wasn’t the only one,” I said again.
    I had no idea whether Rieker believed me or not. “Do you have anything else to add to your statement?” he asked me.
    I thought for a moment before answering. “No.”
    “It will go better for you if you tell us now,” Clyde said.
    “I don’t know any more!” I said angrily. “I’ve told you everything I know.”
    Rieker shrugged. “Wait here. Someone will be in soon with your statement to sign.”
    The detectives promptly left the room. They had a funny idea of ‘soon,’ because I was there at least twenty minutes. I was pretty angry by the time I signed my statement, and I hadn’t even had my morning coffee or chocolate yet. Was it illegal when questioning someone to deny them the right to coffee? I was going to get a caffeine-deficiency headache out of this.
    “One of the officers will drive you home now,” Rieker announced. I was glad he hadn’t sent me down to the officer who would give me a limited time to call Carl.
    I had the officer drive me to Carl’s house instead of mine. I was distraught, and I couldn’t wait to