“Are you kidding? They’re not getting near my body ever again. They stink ofnature.” Morrie grabbed at the tailored shirt he wore. “If I didn’t need this outfit to get out of here, I’d leave it behind too, but I intend to burn it as soon as I’m home.”
I placed my hand over the flap of his rucksack. “Don’t get so excited. You’re holing up with Sam here until it’s time. You’re going to have to make it back to Argleton by yourself,withoutattracting any attention. Can you do that?”
“Of course.” Morrie patted Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock stiffened under the sudden touch, his eyes flicking nervously to Heathcliff. “I happen to be friends with a master of disguise.”
I wrapped my arms around Morrie. He pulled me against him, stroking my hair in a tender way that wasn’t like him at all. Something horrible churned in my gut.
Don’t be crazy – this isn’t goodbye forever. You’re going to see him again tomorrow.
I knew that was true, and yet, I clung to Morrie until Heathcliff pulled me away. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he snapped to Morrie, who gave a mock salute.
Heathcliff, Quoth, Sherlock, and I hiked back down the mountain and poured into the old man’s car. We hadn’t even got the truth from Sherlock about how he’d roped this guy into helping us, but right now I didn’t care.
Our driver dropped us off at the train station. I expected Sherlock to pay him, but instead, he slid long fingers into his jacket pocket and removed an envelope. “I’ve located your daughter. She’s excited to hear from you again. Everything you need is in here.”
With a silent nod, the old man accepted the envelope. As he slit it open, tears rolled down his cheeks. Whatever Sherlock had done for him, it was a beautiful thing.
I almost felt sorry about the way we’d treated him.
Almost.
We all got out of the car and caught the next train. I missed having Oscar with me to find the stairs and railing. He’d already become such a normal part of my life that I felt his absence like a punch in the gut, the same way I missed Morrie with every fiber of my being.
Mum, who agreed to watch the shop for us while we went to Crookshollow, hurried out the door in a hurry to deliver a package of smelly oyster jewelry to a client across town, leaving behind a bucket of oysters and another stack of pearl-themed books she’d sold. After scarfing a dinner of Oliver’s fish and chips (they really were fantastic), Sherlock slept on the sofa downstairs while Heathcliff, Quoth, and I crowded into my bed.
The next morning we woke to the sound of banging and pounding. I peered out the window at the workers swarming over Mrs. Ellis’ old flat.Bloody Grey Lachlan. If he thinks starting construction work at 6AM is going to scare us off, he’s got another thing coming.
I pulled on a pair of skinny jeans and my Blood Lust band hoodie, and shuffled around making coffee and preparing the shop for opening. I pushed open all the windows to air out the oyster smell, but that only made dust from the construction site blow inside, so I shut them all again, except the one in the Children’s room.
Instead, I tried to move Mum’s oyster bucket outside, but Grimalkin pitched a fit, arching her back and hissing until I set it down in the hallway again.
“Fine, keep your smelly oysters.” I watched her hit a shell across the floor with her paw, jumping on it in an attempt to free the goodies within. “Just don’t choke on a bubblegum pink pearl.”
Edie came by with Oscar. She stayed for an hour to watch how we worked together, then left to return to the kennels. I dropped Mum’s envelopes in the mailbag, then busied myself serving customers, entering books into our catalog and shelving them. I checked my watch every ten minutes as each moment of the day crawled by like an hour. Every creaking floorboard and swearing tradesman had me whirling around, heart in my chest.
Fuck, I hope this works.
At 5:02PM, Heathcliff, Sherlock, and Quoth went out to the pub. I suspected our murderer was already watching the shop, and I wanted them to feel certain I was alone. I flipped the sign to CLOSED and double-checked the window in the Children’s room was unlatched.
I peered outside into the towering ivy bushes Heathcliff promised he’d cut back but never did, but couldn’t see a thing beyond the end of my nose.Is the murderer out there?
I flicked off the light and left the room, closing the door behind me.Come out, come out, wherever you are.
The shop was eerily quiet. I sat down behind Heathcliff’s desk (I still thought of it as his even though I did more work there than he ever did) and tried to start on our accounts, but the numbers blurred in front of my eyes. Partly because it was too dark, partly because I couldn’t focus on anything except the closed door of the Children’s room. At my feet, Oscar shifted restlessly.
At 6:03PM, I took the last sip of my cold tea, made a face, and opened Heathcliff’s top drawer to pillage his whisky stash.
At 6:16PM, I discovered I’d written ‘murder murder murdery murd’across two months of invoices, and tossed the entire pile in the trash.
At 6:18PM, I pulled a broken oyster shell from between the cushions on Heathcliff’s chair and hurled it at the armadillo.
At 6:21PM, I poured another whisky.
At 6:24PM, Oscar’s ears pricked up. The back door latch rasped and floorboards creaked as Heathcliff, Sherlock, and Quoth tiptoed through the house and got into position.
At 6:35PM. Oscar’s ears pricked again. My hand flew to his lead. From behind the Children’s room door, I heard the faint scrape of the window being pushed up, and the thud of a foot hitting the rug, but I ignored it and settled Oscar back down.
At 6:41PM, my stomach churned with fear and I had to cross my legs and try not to think about how much I wanted to go to the bathroom. I really, really regretted having the whisky. But not enough to stop drinking it.
