Miss No One, Mark Ayre [romantic love story reading .TXT] 📗

away. She saw the shame in Ndidi's eyes and gave him a chance to make it right. When he didn't, Abbie turned from the detective and placed her hand on Christine's shoulder.

"You're not alone," she said. "If the four of us formed a club, we'd be called the Self-Loathers. I'm working hard to change my self-perception, but I still spend at least a third of my time despising myself for one thing or another. Ariana abandoned herself to cruelty after her father died and only got worse when someone murdered her sister. Now she seeks redemption, but you can't seek redemption without claiming guilt, and the claiming of guilt inevitably leads to a certain degree of self-hatred. Isn't that right, Ana?"

With a slow nod, Ana said, “The nights are the worst."

"You bet they are," said Abbie. Still holding Christine's shoulder, she turned to Ndidi. "Then we have our good friend Detective Idrissa Ndidi.”

All three women turned to the only man in the room. His legs shifted. He looked uncomfortable and as though he didn't know what to do with his hands. It was his turn at the confessional, but he wore his silence like a suit of armour. No matter. It wouldn't protect him from Abbie.

"Someone once told me most people, when attacking another person, are really attacking themselves. This is not as universally true as it is sometimes perceived—for example, not all homophobes are closet homosexuals—but it is a common phenomenon, and Ndidi here is a good example. You know what I mean, don't you, Idrissa?"

Ndidi met Abbie's eye for a moment, then looked away.

“I’m not corrupt.”

Abbie smiled. “When Ndidi interviewed me at the station, he expressed strong loathing for corrupt police officers. Later, at his house, I suggested he was perhaps angry at himself. After all, Gary told me Ndidi worked for Lucky Draw.”

“Gary was a filthy liar.”

“Actually,” Abbie responded to Ndidi, “he was pretty clean. Especially for a drug addict. I do believe he was lying, though. I think you hate yourself, but not because your’e corrupt. Quite the opposite.”

“What?” said Christine.

Abbie kept her eyes on the side of Ndidi’s face for a few seconds, giving him the opportunity to reveal the truth. When he didn't, Abbie turned back to Christine.

“Ndidi was furious that a superior he respected turned out to be corrupt. I deduced he was talking about Hammond. Like you, he knew Hammond was corrupt, but he wasn’t corrupt himself. He hated Hammond’s corruption.”

“Then he’s a coward,” said Christine, looking at Ndidi.

“Like you said; when we arrived yesterday Ndidi was disparaging of your status as an undercover officer.”

Christine turned back to Abbie. “Yeah. So?”

Abbie spread her hands. “How did he know you were working undercover? What’s more, why did Leilani come to you with her information about Hammond and the casino? She was taking a huge leap, trusting someone she barely knew with a secret that could get her killed."

“We discussed that,” said Christine. “Leilani had to trust someone and I was the logical choice. And I assumed you told Ndidi I was working undercover.”

“I didn’t," said Abbie, “and the logical choice for Leilani wasn’t you, it was her husband. Why would a police detective's partner work for known criminals? Even if those criminals have never been convicted. Ndidi can't have been happy about it. Would his wife really take the job anyway? And this wasn't just about Idrissa. Leilani had to know she was putting herself and, by extension, her family—her daughter—in danger by working there. Would it be worth all those arguments and all that worry for a teller's job?"

Christine stared at Abbie, then looked to Ndidi, who was staring at the floor.

“Again, we discussed all this," said Abbie, “but let me put a new spin on it. Idrissa is a good cop. He may have gone astray since his wife disappeared, but before that, he saw corruption in his police division and endeavoured to do something about it. He might have pretended he hated his wife working at the casino, but I'm willing to bet it was his idea. And the reason she took her findings to you? Leilani didn't trust you because you were new in town, and you seemed nice; she trusted you because her husband told her you were trustworthy. Because he was the one who leaked the information about Hammond to the head of the anti-corruption unit who hired you. He's known who you are from the beginning; Idrissa sent his wife to you, so his attitude yesterday didn't come from any problem with you but out of self-loathing for himself. He feels like a grass, and worse, he feels as though he got his wife killed. With you, he was just projecting. People are like that."

Christine stared at Abbie, half agog. The words took some time to process, but when they did, she seemed to have to force her head to turn back to Ndidi.

"Is this true?"

Everyone looked to the male detective. Abbie didn't know her suspicions were correct but was pretty sure. It was the only thing that made Leilani's actions—working at the casino, trusting Christine—make sense when combined with Ndidi’s knowledge of Christine’s job and his apparent hatred of corrupt police officers.

Ndidi kept his eyes to the floor, and at first, it seemed he wouldn’t answer. After several seconds, when it became clear no one was going to look away, he gave a curt nod.

"I suspected Hammond and found out what I could, but I was afraid to push too hard, so I sent what I'd learned to the nearest anti-corruption division. It was they who suggested I send my wife to work at Lucky Draw. I wasn't happy, but Leilani and I didn't keep things from each other. We discussed our options, and she begged me to let her go for the job. Like you, she hated police corruption and said it was her duty to help, even if she wasn't a detective. I wasn't happy, but I agreed." He looked from Christine to