No. I can’t believe it. Irefuseto believe it.
“That doesn’t mean anything!” I showed her the needles stuck to my own boots. “You know those things are the herpes of the tree world. They stick to everything. They’re already spread all over the shop – Heathcliff could have got them stuck all over him doing perfectly mundane daily tasks.”
DS Wilson didn’t acknowledge me but continued to write on her pad. A sick feeling twisted in my stomach. Heathcliff had alotmore pine needles stuck to his clothing than I did.
That’s because he’s a filth wizard.He’s probably been wearing those same clothes for days without cleaning them. And by his own admission, he crashed about in a drunken stupor last night. He probably did hug the tree. Of course he’d be covered in needles.
Someone else snuck into the shop after Heathcliff went to bed. That’s the only explanation.
Next, DS Wilson inspected the floor. Now that I was looking closely, I could see needles scattered everywhere – over the nativity and books on the table, and all across the windowsill. Two more broken glass baubles lay in a forlorn heap beside Heathcliff’s desk. DS Wilson collected a couple of the larger shards in an evidence bag.
“There’s a horrible smell over here.” She pointed to an area near the table.
I bent down and sniffed, my head spinning from the fumes. It was that gross catnip spray Mum brought in, but it was a different spot than the one Mum sprayed yesterday. DS Wilson showed me a wide circle where the rug was soaked in the stuff, and there were a few glass shards scattered at the edge.
“Mum wrapped up a bottle and placed it under the tree,” I remembered. “The bottle was glass. I bet the thief broke it and left this stain.”
“I agree,” she said. “Perhaps the perpetrator will reek of it.”
Morrie loudly sniffed Heathcliff’s jacket. “It’s hard to discern one scent from the layers of odor,” he said. “But I do detect a hint of catnip.”
“That’s because Mina’s mother sprayed that poxy stuff all over the shop yesterday,” Heathcliff shot back.
Muddy footprints of different sizes tramped across the rugs. It would be impossible to separate the prints of our tree thief from ours or our customers. We followed the trail of needles and mud across the floor and down the hall to the front door. Opening the door, we saw more needles on the stoop and steps before the night’s snowfall obscured any possible path.
DS Wilson stooped to inspect the front door. “This lock hasn’t been broken or damaged. No one forced their way in. What about other ways to get into the house?”
My stomach lurched.
I showed her the rear entrance. The lock there was also intact. We walked around the bottom story to check if any windows were broken. None were, and all the latches were shut tight.
“This building has a cellar?” DS Wilson rubbed her arms as that freezing draft whipped down the hall.
I nodded. “But it has no external window or entrance, and the vent isn’t large enough for anyone to squeeze through, let alone get out with a tree. The entrance is blocked off with a bookcase. I don’t even know where it is, but Morrie can show you if you want—”
But DS Wilson was already distracted by something on the staircase. I stooped down to look closely and noticed a scattering of needles trailing up the stairs. We followed the trail up to the first-floor landing, where another glass shard waited.
“What’s this?” DS Wilson picked up some tufts of black fur beside the shard.
“That’s the fringe on Heathcliff’s coat.” My stomach twisted in knots. I didn’t like where this was going. “Like the needles, it’s probably all over the shop…”
DS Wilson bagged the fur and held up another broken shard. “And why would this be on the stairs?”
I had no answer. My heart sinking, I followed her up the narrow stairs to our flat. The needle trail continued across the living room. In the corner beside Heathcliff’s chair, DS Wilson picked up a small length of ribbon and a torn piece of gift wrap. None of us had been wrapping presents upstairs, so the only way those could have got up here was if… if…
No. It’s not true.
The needles came to a stop outside the door of Heathcliff’s room.
Something cold settled on my chest. I reached up to turn the knob.I’m going to open this door and see the usual messy room and everything will be fine, because Heathcliff would never do this—
“You’re not allowed in there!” Heathcliff flung himself in front of the door, his eyes wild.
DS Wilson shot me a triumphant look. I grabbed Heathcliff’s arm and tried to pry his fingers from the doorframe. “Just let her look inside. When she sees there are no presents in there, she’ll know you didn’t do it, and we can—”
“No.” Heathcliff’s dark eyes raged.
Tears pricked in the corners of my eyes.Why didn’t he want DS Wilson to see inside his bedroom? What’s he hiding?
