“Sorry. I thought you were a water nymph. As you were.”
Grimalkin stuck her foot back in the air, narrowly missing kicking the tea-tray in Quoth’s hands as my birdie entered the room in his human form, wearing a pair of black cargo pants and nothing else.Mmmmm.My loins (gross word, but accurate in this case) still ached in that satisfying way from what Morrie and I had done on the police car.
Nothing like a beautiful, shirtless boy with a luminous waterfall of black hair bearing hot cups of tea and biscuits. It’s every self-respecting British girl’s wet dream.
Grimalkin transformed back into a cat to enjoy the saucer of cream Quoth placed on the carpet for her. Next, he set a steaming cup of tea in front of me and curled up beside me. A curtain of black hair draped across his face as he nuzzled into my shoulder.I’m home, I’m home.
Heathcliff grabbed his own cup from the tray and slumped into his chair. He nodded at my tea. “Drink first, then you can talk. You’ll have to call your mother, and Hayes, too. We can do it for you if you want.”
“I’d appreciate that.” As much as I knew she’d be out of her mind with worry, the last thing I wanted to do at that moment was converse with my highly-strung mother.
I sipped my tea, feeling the horrors of the day drop away as my stomach filled with warmth. Even impossible things became clear and simple when facing them with a cup of tea.
After a terse conversation where Heathcliff informed Hayes I’d arrived home safe, and that I’d call him a little later when I was able to give a statement, and an even more tense one where Heathcliff held the phone away from his ear while my mother screamed down the line at him, the bookshop fell into blissful silence. That left only my troubled thoughts to scream inside my head. Quoth transformed back into his bird form and preened his feathers. Grimalkin folded her long legs underneath her and regarded me with a regal tilt of her chin. I drained my cup, set it down, and drew a deep breath.
“I need to explain what – andwho– happened to Morrie. He’s been framed for the murder of a hiker named Kate Danvers.”
“Of course he fucking has,” Heathcliff growled.
“Croak!” Quoth shushed him.
I nodded. “Morrie’s innocent of that crime, but someone is trying to pin it on him. His business card was found on the victim’s corpse, and footprints matching his brogues found near the body. The police have traced Morrie’s involvement to a sideline business he’s been operating. A year ago, Morrie helped Kate Danvers fake her own death, only now she’s shown up dead for real.”
CRACK.I winced as Heathcliff slammed his fist into the desk. “Idiot,” he muttered.
“It gets worse. Morrie’s known about Kate’s death for some time. Guess how? Sherlock Holmes told him.”
“Sherlock Holmes?” Heathcliff thumped his fist on the ancient cash register, which pinged in protest.
“Yup. Morrie’s ex-boyfriend appeared in the shop a couple of months back and has been creepily stalking Morrie ever since. That’s how Sherlock knew about Kate’s death before we did. He disguised himself as a police officer, stole a cruiser, and dragged me and Morrie to a cabin in Barsetshire Fells where he and Morrie intend to hide out while they investigate Kate’s murder to clear Morrie’s name.”
“How did we not know Sherlock Holmes was loose in the world?” Heathcliff demanded. “That poxy bastard must’ve snuck out without us knowing.”
“Apparently, it was that night we all…” I placed my hands over Grimalkin’s ears. “You know, where Morrie and Quoth and I played with Morrie’s handcuffs, and then you and I got primordial in the living room.”
“Meow?” Grimalkin shot me a scandalized look. She stood up and stormed from the room, her tail flicking behind her. I sighed.Life was so much easier when she was just a cat.
“What’s he like?” Heathcliff demanded, drawing me back to the present.
“Sherlock? Tall. Foppish hair. An arrogant prick.” I paused. “He’sexactlyMorrie’s type.”
“Sounds like a twat.” Heathcliff’s eyes blazed. His shoulders tensed, and a flicker of concern flashed across his features – so quick I blinked and once more stared at the irascible scowl buried beneath wild whiskers. I knew that Morrie had feelings for Heathcliff, but Heathcliff had never given any indication he played for the other team, except for the moment when he’d kissed Morrie back. Before he shoved Morrie across the room and stormed off.
...I froze, my body locked in a rage of lust as Morrie’s lips teased Heathcliff with a featherlight touch. Heathcliff’s eyes narrowed, and he had raised his fist. I forced myself from my chair, thinking that he was going to punch Morrie...
The memory flickered across my vision. Even when I was completely blind, the image of Heathcliff wrapping his huge hand around the back of Morrie’s head and pushing his face hard against his, their mouths smashing together in a hot, violent, punishing kiss, would forever be burned into my memory.
Now Heathcliff leaned forward, his dark eyebrows knitting together, his eyes unreadable. A rough hand reached up to touch his own hair, and Iwondered.
Why is Heathcliff so interested in the appearance of Sherlock? Usually he’s indifferent to anything unless it causes him to miss out on quiet, books, or alcohol.
“Sherlockisa twat. I don’t trust him,” I said. “He’s trying to win Morrie back. That’s why he chose to stay hidden from us. He’s been spying on us all this time. He could have helped during any of the other murders, but he didn’t. With Dracula around, we could have used him… yet he shows up now, when it’sMorriein trouble.”
Heathcliff’s dark eyes swept over mine. “You think he’s got something to do with this case?”
“I don’t know. But I do know I don’t want him to be the one to solve it. Sherlock Holmes might be the world’s greatest consulting detective, but he doesn’t know Morrie like we do.” I folded my arms. “We’re going to solve this mystery first, clear Morrie’s name, and show literature’s greatest detective that he can’t mess with Mina Wilde’s family.”
Chapter Six
