She turned to Heathcliff. “You said there was money missing from the till?”
I glanced at Heathcliff in surprise. He nodded. “Aye, about a hundred quid.”
Wilson added the evidence bag to her stack of papers, and made a note on her pad. “Thank you for this information. We’ll need to have a word with Mr. Larson. Any other unusual activity in the shop over the last few days, Mina?”
“I’ve only worked here two days,” I said.
“Oh, I see.” She scribbled something else down. The knot of panic in my chest tightened.Why is she so interested in everything I say?“Mr. Earnshaw, have you noticed anything out of the ordinary in or around the shop recently?”
“Nothing unusual,” Heathcliff said. Wilson dismissed me to question him, and I went to stand with Moriarty on the landing. He’d finished chatting to the Chief Inspector, and was watching the SOCO team work through the evidence with a rapt expression on his face.
“Why do you look so happy? Ashley was just murdered.”
“Murder fascinates me.” Morrie’s arm slid around my shoulders, pulling me tight against him. I sank into the warmth of his body and his lavender and vanilla scent. “I’ve already read every book in the True Crime section. In another life, I might’ve been a detective. It’s fascinating seeing a crime scene unfolding in real life. So how’s the number one suspect?”
“You mean me?”
“Of course you. Couldn’t you tell from all those questions Sergeant Jenny Wilson was asking you?”
“How amIthe number one suspect?”
“It’s elementary.” Morrie grinned, ticking off points on his fingers. “You had a falling out with the victim. You saw her earlier today, so you knew she was in town. She was killed in your workplace, at night, while you were upstairs. You were one of the first people to find the body.”
Bloody hell. When he put it like that…“But I was hanging out with you guys the whole time. You’re my alibis.”
“Yes, and no.”
“What do you mean,and no?”
“I’ve just overheard Sergeant Wilson asking Heathcliff about his personal life. If she doesn’t know his reputation as the resident village Bernard Black, she’ll find out soon enough. My own reputation precedes me as well. She may believe we’d be inclined to protect you because we’re lonely bachelors and you’re the first pretty girl who tolerates our eccentricities. It does look pretty suspicious you got this job two days ago without any bookshop experience, and now your old friend turns up dead.”
“But I’m only a suspect because I’m lying to protect Quoth.” I slid out from under his arm. “This is all your fault. I never should have lied.”
“You can go and tell Wilson about Quoth if it’s really important to you,” Morrie grinned. “Of course, if you tell her you lied about that detail, you’ll look even more guilty.”
“I can’t believe you did this to me,” I hissed. “I might be in serious trouble because I lied. You never told me I’d be making myself into a suspect. I thought you were my friend.”
“We’re whatever you want us to be, gorgeous.” Morrie held out his hand. “I made you a promise. We all did – we’ll protect you. We take our promises seriously. We’re going to find out who did this and get you off the hook for this murder.”
“And just how are you going to do that?” I folded my arms across my chest.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m very clever. Quoth can be resourceful. And Heathcliff is terrifying, especially if someone he cares about is in trouble.”
“Heathcliff doesn’t care about me. He’s barely known me three days, and he doesn’t even seem to like me that much.”
“If you say so.” Morrie waved at someone. “Between the four of us, we will make sure the real killer is punished for what he’s done. Hey, there’s Jo.”
“Hey Morrie!” A woman on the other side of the police tape swiped a blonde lock off her face and made a shooing motion at me. “Don’t lean over the tape like that. We can’t risk you contaminating the scene.”
“Right.” I leaned back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Mina’s lying,” Morrie said.
“What?” My heart pounded. “Don’t say that. I’m not lying. I haven’t lied about anything.”
I glared at Morrie, but his expression was completely innocent. “Mina’s not sorry at all. She’s a morbid freak just like me and you. She wants to know all about your work here.”
To my surprise, the lady laughed. “Oh Morrie, you are a hoot.” She smiled at me. “Don’t mind him. He came to a talk I gave at this year’s ___field Writers Festival on poisons in Agatha Christie novels. It was a room full of old biddies and this strapping specimen, staring at me with those icy blues and frantically taking notes. He’s been plying me with beer in exchange for gory stories ever since. But I haven’t had the pleasure?”
