“See this here?” I point down and look around for what could have been blocking the blood splatter. The only thing it might have been is one of the many heavy bookshelves lined up in even rows.
Upon closer inspection, I see the nearest shelf is slightly out of line with the one across from it. “That definitely didn’t occur naturally, it’s too smooth,” Dad surmises after inspecting the area.
“You know, I don’t remember anything being up here but the shelves and old tables and chairs. Ms. Miller said all the furniture was moved out, so that leaves just the shelves.” I walk over to the one that seems slightly out of place and take a good look at the bottom to see if there’s any blood, but it’s as clean as a whistle. I mean, there isn’t even a speck of dust along the bottom row of books.
“What are you looking at?” Dad walks over and examines what I’m inspecting.
“Are all the shelves this clean?” I ask while already moving to examine another. Dad heads in the opposite direction, and after a few passes on either side, we make eye contact. “Does it seem strange to you how clean all these shelves are?”
“A bit, yeah,” he admits reluctantly.
“Someone did some tidying up after the fact.”
“It looks that way.” Dad plants his hands on his waist and drops a heavy curse.
Chapter 17
Professor Green in the library with a pipe wrench.
“Iknow she didn’t have anything to do with it, Frankie,” Dad tells me for what must be the third time.
“Okay, then let’s figure out who did,” I reply, speaking the words slowly so hopefully they will sink in.
I hear distant chattering and look over the railing to view the main floor. The sound of echoed footsteps comes next. Felix and Remy are walking down a hall, each holding tattered boxes filled to the brim with…well, junk. From here, it looks like trinkets and baubles, most of them shiny yet old or damaged in some way.
Careful, you nitwits.Felix looks over his shoulder and gives Percival a scowl. In return, the mink makes a little screech-like noise that resonates through the large space.
“Thanks, guys. You can put it all in Dad’s truck.” I wave over the railing.
“It’d be better in the dumpster,” Remy mumbles loud enough to be heard by everyone—including Percival.
Try it, you overgrown stump weed. I’ll chew through your Achilles tendon and hollow out your body for my new den.
“Percival!” I snort, half laughing and half outraged at the imagery, not that I think he could take Remy down, but it’s funny to hear from such a small creature.
He refused to carry half my things. I need my things.Percival sounds more worried than angry.
I get a sudden pang in my chest. I have a little experience with picking up and starting over. If having more of his crap will make him feel better, then so be it. “We’ll get the rest of your stuff, just stop threatening to kill him, okay?”
Remy stops dead in his tracks and looks down at the small animal. “Vicious thing, huh? Good, she needs all the help she can get. I’ll get your shit,” he tells Percival. Men baffle me sometimes. That was not the outcome I expected.
All three of them head out of the front door, pretty much ignoring my presence. Felix makes sure to hold the door open for Percival, but the little bugger is so quick, he slipped out the door right after Remy without any issue, leaving Felix to look around for him.
“I screwed this up good,” Dad says, pulling my attention back to the murder at hand.
“Nah, we’ll figure it out, Pop. We just need to look at the evidence.” For his sake, I hope he’s wrong. I hope I’m wrong too, because I have a suspicion Ms. Miller has more to do with this than she’s admitting.
Dad’s phone rings, and he plucks it off his hip. “Yeah?” A few seconds pass as he listens to the caller, then he asks, “Where?” There’s another lapse, and he nearly growls, “I’ll be right there. Stall.”
“What’s going on?” I ask the moment he ends the call.
“Scotty just pulled over a car with out of state plates for speeding, and they are heading out of town.”
“And?” I prompt.
Dad starts heading down the stairs. “And he has no ID or paperwork for the vehicle. When Scotty pressed him, he admitted he borrowed the car from a friend, but can’t tell us his name or how to reach him.”
“You think it’s a stolen car?” I ask, following after him.
