“Now, now, everyone is a suspect where our Mina is concerned.” Morrie added his name to the legal pad. “I think he’s our best lead, especially given the smell and the stolen money. Mina said he was sheltering under the eaves when she arrived last night, before the storm got really bad. But none of us saw him out there after the murder. If he moved that book, it means he came in the shop last night. It could be an opportunistic killing. Now, as for the knife… Jo sent in her report this morning.”
“Isn’t that information supposed to be kept confidential?”
“Sure is.” Morrie pulled out his phone, “Now, this knife is a bit unusual. It’s an odd shape, almost like an ancient blade from the Middle East, and the handle has these elaborate carvings, but it’s modern. Jo says she can’t identify it as a replica, but she’s taking it to an ancient weapons expert.”
“Jo just sent information about an active murder investigation to a friend of the chief suspect?”I can’t believe it. Jo seemed so dedicated to her job.
“No, no. Jo is way too moralistic for that. I hacked her phone,obviously.Do you know anything about this knife?”
I peered at the picture, surprised that I recognized the blade. “Yeah. Marcus Ribald did a collection two years ago that was all about the Persian Empire. He had these knives made to go in the goodie bags at the premiere.”
“So only people who attended that show would have got these knives?”
“Yeah, as well as everyone in the office, but half of them would’ve gone straight home and stuck them on eBay.” I shrugged. “The little known secret about fashion people is that they’ll all up to their eyeballs in credit card debt to finance their wardrobes. If other people can’t see you wear it, there’s no point in owning it. Ashley and I sold our blades the following week. They paid for three months of rent and partying. I doubt you could figure out who owns that knife now.”
“Still, it’s another connection to the fashion industry, so that’s a start.” Morrie jotted that down. “I can start with the knife and the eBay sales. Quoth, can you head over to the police station, see if you can find out anything else?”
“Sure.” Quoth stood up and jogged upstairs.
Morrie peered through the blackout windows at the growing crowd outside. “You are going to sell so many books today. Maybe we’ll be able to eat something other than tinned beans or takeaways this week.”
“He doesn’t even want to open today,” I complained.
“They’re not here to buy books,” Heathcliff grumbled, flinging the legal pad into a drawer and pulling over his ledger.
“Then make it impossible for them not to. Move the thrillers and true crime books onto the sociology shelves, and let them at it.” Morrie clapped his hand on Heathcliff’s shoulder.
“That’s actually brilliant.” I said. “I could start—”
“The books stay where they are,” Heathcliff growled. “And if I’m being forced to open the shop,you’renot going to be here when those biddies come in. Go upstairs and hide. Quoth will light the fire for you and you can read books and drink all the tea until the shop closes.”
“What, just hang out in your private space, putting my girl germs all over your precious stuff?” I grinned and wiggled my arse at him. “I’m going to mess up the arse-groove in your chair so bad.”
“Don’t youdaresit in that chair,” Heathcliff snapped. “That was a one-time privilege.”
“It’s going to be too weird sitting up there while you guys are down here working. Can’t I at least have something to do?” I reached for the ledger. “I know, let me balance the books.”
“Hands off.” Heathcliff yanked the ledger away.
“Quoth will keep you company. He can go to the police station later on,” Morrie suggested.
“He can guard my chair from interlopers, is what he can do,” Heathcliff growled.
“See, you’re not really selling it to me.” I liked Quoth more than I did yesterday, but he was still a weirdo who watched me from the shadows. I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend the day trying to make small-talk with him while Heathcliff and Morrie dealt with the chaos downstairs. On the other hand, one should always take the opportunity to get paid for reading and drinking tea.
I sighed. “I’ll go up, provided you pay me time-and-a-half.”
“You drive a hard bargain, woman.”
“Thanks. I learned from my mother.” I grabbed a copy of Wuthering Heightsfrom the shelf, making sure Heathcliff saw the title when I went past him, and climbed the stairs to their apartment.
I told myself I wouldn’t snoop around when I got to the first floor landing. Of course, I snooped. Last night the SOCO team rolled up the rugs and took them away. Dark squares on the floorboards showed the marks of years of wear. There was still a faint aroma of chemicals in the air.
Ashley’s dead.
My eyes prickled with tears I didn’t want to cry. What Ashley did to me had changed the way I felt about her, but now she was gone all I could recall were all the crazy adventures we’d had as rebellious punk rock teens. I replayed our last conversation over and over in my head. Maybe shewastrying to reach out? I’d pushed her away. Maybe she saw me come into the shop last night and followed me to try and talk again, and that homeless man jumped out and attacked her?
Maybe in some crazy way, Iwasresponsible for her death.
