I slammed into something hard, sending me sprawling to the cobbles. I winced as my tailbone bounced on hard stone and Heathcliff’s phone clattered from my hand.
“Mina, I’m so sorry.” The wobbly shape standing above me resolved into my best friend. Jo held out her hand. I took it, and she hauled me to my feet. “I was just coming to see you at the shop. I called out to you and I thought you saw me, but by the time I realized you hadn’t I was in your way and—”
“It’s okay.” I rubbed my tailbone. “I shouldn’t have been staring at a screen while I walked. And there’s no need to be my seeing-eye friend. I’ve walked the path to the bakery so many times, I can do it sleepwalking or blindfolded or in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.”
“Noted. I probably would've been more help saving us a table. Apparently, the new fish and chips are a big hit, and the place is already packed. But speaking of seeing-eye friends, how’s the guide dog training?” Jo grabbed the phone off the ground and peered at the screen. “I know you have pictures.”
I swiped the phone from her, heart pounding.If she sees Morrie’s app, she’ll demand to know what’s going on.
Jo frowned, her hand still hanging in the air. “Are you okay? I know this Morrie thing must have you worried, but Mina, if you’re in communication with him, you need to tell the police—”
“No! I mean, yes! I mean… I’m sorry.” I laughed, but it came out sounding forced. “I didn’t mean to snatch the phone. Iamworried as hell, but I haven’t heard from Morrie. I guess… I’m still jumpy after that guy kidnapped us. It’s so surreal – I’m still processing, you know. It feels like it happened to someone else.”
“I know. That’s a classic reaction to trauma.” Jo wrapped her arm around me as we headed to the bakery. “But don’t you think you should be at home, giving yourself a break for once?”
“Nope. I need to stay busy or I’ll go crazy. Besides, training with my new guide dog is keeping my mind off Morrie. I did meet him yesterday. His name is Oscar, and he’s the absolute cutest. And yes, I do have pictures.”
I scrolled through Heathcliff’s feed, my heart warming at just how many photographs he’d taken of Oscar and I navigating the obstacle course. He even had a video of me giving Oscar the commands to walk straight and turn left or right. My heart rate returned to normal as we got in line for our treats. Jo must not have seen anything about Dracula on the phone, because she was the type of person to have called me on it immediately.
Ever since I discovered the baker, Greta, was guilty of murdering Gladys Scarlett – town matriarch and head of the Banned Book Club – the bakery on the corner of Butcher Street had stood empty, much to the town’s chagrin. It was a testament to how much the British love our pies and slices that the village petitioned the court to have Greta’s sentence shortened so she could get back to her shop sooner. Fortunately, common sense prevailed and the poisoner was still safely behind bars.
Luckily, just after Christmas a new baker moved in. Not only was Oliver Swinbourne a great chef with a flair for the best coffee in Argleton, but he was tall and broad-shouldered and easy on the eye. (Not that I could be relied upon any longer in that department, but my mother, Mrs. Ellis, and Grimalkin were smitten, and Jo confirmed he was a damn fine specimen).
Visiting the Daily Bread bakery with my morning coffee orders became a much more enjoyable chore, let me tell you.
“Hey, ladies,” Oliver beamed as we stepped up to the counter. “What’s your pleasure?”
“Heathcliff got your fish and chips for dinner the other night, and they wereamazing,” I grinned. “Is there anything you can’t do? You’re going to give all the men of this village an inferiority complex.”
Oliver tapped the blackboard behind him, which I couldn’t read but I presumed listed the fish and chip options. “I’ve already had three offers of marriage since putting my shingle out. What’ll it be, ladies? I’m afraid I don’t start serving my marriage-wrecking fish-and-chips until eleven.”
“Two flat whites,” Jo said. “And we’ll try two of your steak and kidney pies.”
“Oh, and treacle tarts,” I exclaimed, peering into the counter. Someone behind me in line made a comment about me putting my nose on the glass (it wasn’t) but I ignored them.
“You’re lucky,” Oliver said as he handed over our tarts. “If that developer chap has anything to say about it, these will be the last pies I ever bake.”
“What do you mean?” A thought occurred to me. “Not Grey Lachlan?”
Oliver pointed behind us shoulder to a man retreating across the green toward the pub. From this distance, he was just a blur to me. “The one and same. He’s been in here every day trying to buy the building out from under me. He keeps upping his offer, but I’m not budging. I came into an inheritance, see? I own the entire building right up to your bookshop, including two flats and the butchery and the flower shop next door. I love this town and I don’t want to sell up – Lachlan won’t move me unless it’s in a body bag.”
“That’s the spirit.” Jo bit into the treacle tart Oliver handed her. “This village needs you.”
Interesting. After striking out with Heathcliff, Grey’s trying to buy up the buildings around the bookshop. That can’t be a coincidence.
“So…” I slid into the table across from Jo. She sorted through the mug of sugar packets and handed me the coconut one I liked. It was amazing how quickly we’d fallen into this pattern – Jo saw that I had difficulty with something and so she just did it. It was weird, because I usually felt frustrated about the things I couldn’t do myself anymore, but Jo handing me that sugar without making a big thing of it made a happy lump rise in my throat.She’s a great friend.“What did you learn from the autopsy?”
“You know I’m not supposed to be sharing details of an active case with you,especiallysince you’re the girlfriend of our chief suspect.”
“So Morrie’s still a suspect? Jo, you know he wouldn’t murder someone. And I don’t care what Hayes believes – he’s not in cahoots with his kidnappers. I was with Morrie when they took us – he was just as confused and scared as I was.”
I hate hate hate lying to my friend. But if it keeps Morrie safe while we find the killer…
“I only know what the evidence shows.” Jo bit into her pie. “As for Morrie… how well can we ever truly know a person, anyway? Think about all the murders you’ve helped solve. Not one of those people seemed like the textbook definition of a brutal killer, and yet they were stabbing and poisoning and garroting up the village. I didn’t know Morrie was operating a death-faking business, and from your face I’m guessing you didn’t either. We can always be surprised by the people you thought you knew.”
I nodded, toying with the sugar packet. “Is his business against the law?”
“It’s a legal grey area.” Jo sipped her coffee. “Technically, faking your death isn’t a crime – it’s all the things you need to do after you’ve faked your death, like insurance fraud, forgery, identity theft – that can land you in trouble.”
