The Dragon at the Edge of The Map

Chapter 1

She cleared her throat, hoping they didn't take it as a sign of weakness. "Monique Duchesne." She knew better than to volunteer any information. Anything she offered would be used as a thread to find questions that she wouldn't want to answer.

"And how long have you lived here?"

She noticed Adams write in the notebook while Watson asked the questions. "Five years." The coffee started dripping, so she went to get the milk from the fridge.

"Where do you come from?"

That was an odd question. "What do you mean?"

"You know, we all came here from somewhere. Where did your folks come from?"

"Why?"

Watson shrugged. "Just curious. Why don't you want to answer?"

There it was. Cops didn't like it when you held back information. Even if the question had nothing to do with whatever crime they were investigating. Monique was tempted to tell him to mind his own business, but she worried that he'd use that against her. "My dad emigrated from Yugoslavia. My mom was fourth generation Canadian."

He nodded, and Adams made a note. Watson continued. "And what do you do, Monique? For a living?"

Damn. The questions were going to come no matter what she did. "I sing at Blue Scene and I do a bit of tour guide stuff. Why do you need to know that?"

Mike Adams looked up from his notebook. "I thought I recognized you. You've got a great voice."

Monique smiled, but didn't let down her guard as she poured coffee. "Thanks. So why do you need to know about my work?"

Detective Watson ignored her question and sipped his coffee. "So is that where you were tonight?"

"Yes, I got there around nine and left about fifteen minutes before you saw me. Is this where I should tell you I want my lawyer?"

"No, the victim's been dead more than an hour. We got an anonymous call and when we got here... well, you saw what we saw. I'm sorry about that." He rubbed his forehead and Monique realized she wasn't the only one pretending to be unaffected by the horror across the hall.

Another sip and Watson asked, "Did you know him?"

She loosened her grip on the mug before she snapped the handle. The panic wouldn't push away, this needed to be over soon, or she'd collapse while they were in her home. She shook her head and rubbed at a spot on the counter. "He only moved in last month. I said hi to him once, and I think he had an accent, maybe eastern European. It was hard to tell from just a 'good morning'. The guy liked Death Metal and didn't understand you could play music at less than full volume."

"Did he have any visitors?" Watson was watching her closely.

Monique shook her head again and rose to put her mug in the sink. Leaning against the counter, she said, "I didn't pay much attention. I don't remember hearing anyone knock on his door." She crossed her arms, hoping they would get the hint that she wanted to be finished with the questions.

The detectives rose leaving their half-empty coffee mugs on the table. "Thanks. I guess if there's anything else we need, we can reach you here?"

"Here or the club. Should I be worried about someone breaking in?"

Detective Adams slid his notebook into his pocket, retrieving a business card. "Make sure you lock your door, and don't open it to strangers. If you need anything, or something happens, call."

Monique took the card, a list of contact numbers filled the back. "So, it wasn't random?"

Detective Watson looked her up and down. Monique felt the dismissal in his glance. "We don't discuss open cases with the public. Just be careful, and you should be okay."