“That Facebook group was private. Not public. And it was more of a spirited debate,” she defended.
“They’ve also been interviewing attendees of the panel you were on in Salem. Did you say you…” Carson glanced down at a page in his little book and read, “were afraid you might murder Professor Graves?”
“Uh, oh,” Harper whispered.
Chapter Eighteen
Apparently being a murder suspect was bad for business.
There were plenty of people walking by the shop. Slowing down to glance in the window. Lean in to whisper to one another while glaring at Natalie.
But as far as the number of customers who actually came inside the store, those were few and far between. And the ones who made a purchase, even fewer.
“I’m going to have to dust the cash register at this rate,” Natalie said with a sigh after locking the front door and heading back to find Liam in her apartment.
She hadn’t even bothered to empty the drawer of that day’s cash. It was so little, it wasn’t worth counting it and reconciling the sales. She’d just add it to the next day’s—not that she predicted tomorrow to be much better.
Liam glanced up. “Slow day?”
She let out a snort and headed for the open bottle of wine on the counter. “You could say that. I guess cops in the shop didn’t instill consumer confidence.”
“It’ll get better once the next bit of gossip gets their attention.”
“Easy for you to say. Your customers are dead.” She raised the wine glass to her lips.
“I wouldn’t call the cadavers customers?—”
She lowered the glass again and shot Liam a glare. “Just let me have this one, okay?”
His lips twitched with a smile. “Okay.”
After a swallow of the Malbec burned down her throat she plunked the glass back down on the counter and spun to face Liam. “What if the New Haven police refuse to let this go?”
“They will,” he said as his cell rang.
Standing, he pulled it out of his pocket. His expression changed as he read the display before answering the call.
“Doctor Walsh speaking… Yes… No, I understand. That’s fine. I’ll see you then.”
There was no anticipation as great as that of waiting to hear about the other side of a conversation she’d heard only half of. She should probably be more empathetic toward Liam since this was his experience when she spoke to the ghosts. That reasoning didn’t make her any less impatient to hear who he’d been talking to.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“The coroner’s office. The van is on the way here to get Graves. I’m meeting them at the lab in twenty minutes.”
“It’s already after six,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, they got delayed but they didn’t want to wait until the morning. The New Haven PD is pushing them to get this autopsy done.”
“See. I told you. They’ll never let it go.” She reached for the glass again, found it nearly empty, and refilled it from the also almost empty bottle. Good thing there was plenty more on the shelves out in the shop. It wasn’t like anyone was buying it.
Liam shook his head. “Let them spin their wheels investigating. You’re innocent. So am I.”
She imagined the police department flipping every rock they could find looking for evidence to convict her. Interviewing everyone who’d been in Salem with her.
“Liam, all the attendees from that conference are going to tell the police how mad I was at Lionel after that panel.”
“And the police will also hear that all the attendees saw Graves alive and well after that panel as well as the following morning at the breakfast buffet you told me you and Harper skipped.”
