One not focused on a potential murder, he thought. “That would be great. Anything else you want to tell me about what happened Saturday?”
“Only that I really appreciate the police and emergency services for getting here so fast. They’re wonderful.”
Small-town heroes. Check. He stood, grabbing his phone. “Thanks for taking the time. If I have any more questions, I might give you a call.”
Mae blinked and stood, too. “That’s fine. Tell Roz I said hi.”
“Will do.” He exited the office first, sheepishly pointed to the restrooms, and ducked into one as she headed out to the main floor.
A couple of minutes later, feeling much better, he found himself in the hallway. And drawn back to the scene of the crime. Or the vape. Whatever it was.
With a look over his shoulder, he headed down the dim hallway toward the back door and pushed it open into a bright afternoon. The rain had gone, though the pavement still looked wet in spots. He let the door ease shut but propped it open with a brick that lay next to the door, probably there for just that purpose, for deliveries and so on.
The alley was mostly empty, though there were a few vehicles behind the various businesses that backed up to the street on each side. All the vehicles were parallel-parked on one side since it was one-way. Any evidence of what had happened was gone. No debris. And the rain had probably washed away anything else. He didn’t want to think about that.
Big Bang Books was in the middle of a block. He looked both ways, toward the cross streets at each end of the alley, where the occasional car passed by. They were pretty far away. It was unlikely there would be rolling witnesses. He scanned the businesses, looking for cameras. There was one a few doors down, but it was focused on the back door of that building. No help.
Surely the police had thought of all that. Just as they’d looked in the dumpster a couple of doors down.
Or had they?
It was dark green, with black lids on the top that looked easy enough to lift. He’d just take a quick look. The businesses here shared it, he figured.
Alden reached the dumpster, looked around and didn’t spot any witnesses. Then he lifted one of the two lids and peeked inside. It didn’t smell good, but the bagged trash didn’t seem that unusual, and he had one rule when it came to reporting, even when he was with the National Eye: He did not go dumpster-diving. After all, Wayne Vandershell died when his vape pen exploded. It wasn’t like somebody dropped a gun or a knife in here.
He took a step back and spotted a recycling bin next to the trash container. It was a little bigger than the rolling trash cans outside his apartment, but bright green and painted with a white recycling symbol. It had been hidden from view when he was down the street. What the heck, he thought.
He lifted the lid and saw a jumble of soda cans, a few bottles, various papers, and—a book?
He thought he recognized the cover, though he could see only the back of it. It was half covered with papers.
Did his rule against dumpster-diving apply to recycling bins?
Alden didn’t have to dive. The bin wasn’t that big. He reached in and flipped the book so he could see the front of it.
It was Enolia Honeywood’s The Murex Murder.
A jolt ran through him. Who would’ve thrown out a brand-new book?
He looked around the pavement, found a thin plastic grocery bag that had escaped the trash but was still reasonably clean, and used it to pluck the book out of the recycling. Then he got the book inside the bag without adding any more of his fingerprints, just in case, and squeezed it into the inside pocket of his jacket. He headed back toward the bookshop.
He’d just moved inside and eased the door closed when Mae appeared out of the gloom.
“Alden?”
“Oh, hi, Mae. I just wanted to look around outside to—you know. See the scene again.”
“Are you done?” Her tone was courteous, but it was clear she was ready for him to go. That was OK. He was ready, too. And he wanted to look at the book he’d found.
“Yes, thanks.” But another question occurred to him as he followed her into the main room of the store and toward the front door. “Hey, Mae? Who took that photo of you and your aunt at her house?”
“Oh, that was Craig.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s always around. He lives above her garage.”
Chapter Ten
Roz didn’t have Nicole Esquivel’s number. She’d called April Reins from the parking lot behind the diner and boardwalk and left a voicemail. April texted her back a few minutes later, saying she didn’t have Nicole’s personal cell but Liani Reyes might. A few more minutes of phone tag, and Roz had it.
She would’ve preferred just dropping in, but she figured she’d be less intimidating if she cleared the runway first.
