Morrie’s face contorted, his fingers closing around the knife. He raised it higher…
I threw myself across Sherlock’s body, staring up at Morrie as the knife hovered above me. “Morrie, don’t.”
Morrie’s hand froze. His smile didn’t waver. “This isn’t for you, gorgeous.”
“I know. It’s for you, and I think that’s why you shouldn’t do it. You can’t go around stabbing people every time they break your heart.” I swallowed. “That’s the old James Moriarty. The criminal. But the Morrie I love isn’t like that.”
“Maybe I don’t know how to beMorrie.” His voice dripped with bitterness. “Maybe I’m Moriarty, the villain, the con-man, now and forever. Maybe we can’t ever escape our stories.”
“That’s not true. I know you don’t believe that.” Even though the knife hovered above my head, I kept my eyes focused on Morrie. “You’ve devoted your new life to protecting the people you care about. You cultivated your criminal skills in this world to help your friends – so you could get papers for Quoth, and help Lydia Bennet talk her way into the Army, and secure good employment for all the other fictional characters who came through the shop. Even this death faking business was your misguided attempt to do good in the world. You said you didn’t care to ask why Kate Danvers wanted to fake her own death, but I bet that’s not true. I bet you care a lot – you just don’t want to admit it.”
The corner of Morrie’s mouth spasmed. My heart fluttered with hope.
Morrie’s lips curled back and he snarled, tossing the knife at the cabin, where it plunged into the wood and stuck fast, the silver cock-shaped handle quivering in the breeze.
“What should we do with him?”
“I think we should get the truth.” I knelt down beside Sherlock. “Why did you kill Kate? What information did Dave have on you? Why did you kill him? I’d remind you that I might have got rid of Morrie’s knife, but Heathcliff could still snap your neck like it was a matchstick.”
“I did none of these things.” Sherlock hugged his legs to his chest. “I came here to speak the truth, but I can see it’s pointless. I’m surrounded by lunatics and imbeciles.”
“We found you fleeing Dave’s house.”
“I wasn’t fleeing Dave’s house. I waswatchingit. I had reason to suspect Dave might be a target. I saw a figure creep from the shadows to ring the bell, dressed entirely in black. Dave answered the door and invited this black-clad figure inside, and about twenty minutes later, the pink-haired one showed up and let herself in. I was moving closer to get a look when you showed up.”
“Why did you think Dave was—” a rustling in the trees caught my attention, followed by a random buzzing noise. “What was that?”
“That noise? It sounded like…” Morrie’s eyes swept the tree line, following the buzzing. The corner of his mouth tugged up into a spoiled grin. “It sounded like we have a spy in our midst.”
Heathcliff dived into the trees. There was aTHUMP,and someone yelped in pain. Heathcliff returned a minute later, dragging a groaning body that he dumped beside Sherlock. The figure curled into the fetal position, staring up at us with wild eyes. A mobile phone was clutched in his trembling fingers.
“Who’s this?” Morrie peered at him.
“That’s Sam, the owner of Wild Oats. He lied about moving Kate’s body. But what I can’t figure is what he’s doing out here spying on us.” I leaned forward. “Unless… he’s the real murderer.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“What are you talking about?” Sam cried as Heathcliff dumped him beside Sherlock. “I’m not a murderer. I’ve never even met these two lanky gentlemen.”
“Then why are you spying on us?”
“Because I was rambling nearby when I heard shouting from what’s supposed to be an empty bothy. You never would have heard me if I didn’t get that phone call.”
“Is that true?” I narrowed my eyes. “You lied to us about finding Kate’s body. You were trying to move it when a tourist stopped you. That’s not the behavior of an innocent man.”
“So this is all about Kate?” Sam threw up his hands. “Fine! I moved the body. I admit it. It was an awful thing to do, and it still makes me feel horrible, but I did it.”
“Why?”
“Because I found it on Wild Oats territory. I was going to dump it somewhere far away, in one of the fields near the village, maybe. I thought I could make it look like she’d been hitchhiking and someone messed her up. I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking. Business had started to pick up again, and a murdered girl showing up would ruin us. Ithasruined us.” Sam hung his head, staring at the phone in his hands. “That was the bank calling. I’ve defaulted on my loans. Wild Oats is officially out of business.”
“Finish the story,” Heathcliff growled, advancing on him.
“Right, yes.” Sam gulped. “So, I decided to move the body. But then, halfway down the mountain, I ran into a German tourist, and so I had to invent a reason why I was just carrying a body around the woods. I made up the story about bringing it to the police. But then hewouldn’t go away, so I had to leave the body and walk back to the village with him. And that was the longest two hours of my life – not just because of the horror of Kate’s death and worrying about my business, but that guy wasweird.”
Hearing Sam the cockroach chef call another person weird seemed… worth investigating. “How do you mean?”
Sam’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t know, just… German. Talked in a stilted voice. Seemed to know an awful lot about bodies and police procedure. And even though he was hiking in the woods, he had the strangest clothes – a fitted blazer, like the kind you’d wear at a posh boarding school, with a crest on the breast pocket and everything, and a pair of fancy shoes.” He pointed to Morrie’s brogues. “Exactly like those, same color and everything.”
