Page 13 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

I shrug. “My broken bones are healed, and I’m more or less back to normal, just slightly less pretty and missing a spleen.”

“I didn’t mean physically.”

“You mean, have I gotten over the fact that I was attacked and almost beaten to death for being gay?” I sigh. “My life changed in ways that I couldn’t have possibly imagined that night. My life is…different now. I’m not the same person you knew, not even close.”

“I’m so sorry, Sam.”

“Don’t be. I don’t need your pity,” I tell him firmly. “It took me a long time to get my head straightened out and adjust to my new reality, but I’m content. I like it here in London and my business is doing well.”

“I’m glad.”

“Part of the reason I wanted to see you rather than talk over the phone was because I wanted to say thank you.”

“Thank you?” He blinks slowly, looking a bit confused.

“I know what you did for me, and I know what it cost you.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Danny, it wasn’t nothing. You were the first to come to the hospital to check on me, and after it all came out about my sexuality and the tongues started spewing venom, you stood up publicly and not only called them out but came out yourself in solidarity. Don’t think I don’t understand how hard that was for you. I know your family stopped talking to you after that.”

“To be fair, they were hardly talking to me before.” He stares down at his cup. “I didn’t just do it for you, Sam. I’m no martyr, so don’t go putting me up on a pedestal. I couldn’t live like that anymore. I wasn’t ashamed of who I am, and you shouldn’t have had to be either. We shouldn’t ever have to hide, worried about what could happen if we misread a situation or misjudge someone’s interest. What happened to you was wrong, but what came after made me ashamed of everyone around us.”

“You and me both.” I sigh. “Still, what’s done is done. I won’t be going back.”

“You know, I’d love to introduce you to Tristan. Maybe we could grab dinner one night,” he offers.

“I’d like that.” I smile, and I realise I mean it. “Although I wouldn’t have pegged him as your type. You always went for the built, athletic types, not cute little twinks. They were always more my type.”

“No, your type was snarky with a tongue so sharp you could cut yourself on it.” He chuckles. “And why am I not surprised you know what he looks like?”

“I’m good a–”

“At your job.” He finishes my sentence with a roll of his eyes. “I see you’re still as modest as ever.”

“Speaking of being good at my job.” I slide the manila folder across the table to him. “Your suspect. Maeve Landon aka Peggy Johnson aka Iris Carter aka Harriett Walker… I could go on.”

“What?” His eyes widen as he opens the folder curiously.

“She’s a black widow,” I reply. “At least, that would be my guess. I haven’t got to the bottom of all of it yet, but the more I uncovered, the more there was. Her birth name is Edith Anderson, born in Letchworth, October 8th, 1936. She married in ’56, and he died two years later of unknown causes. She then changed her name and remarried in ’59, then husband number two died too. It’s her MO. She marries, husband dies, she changes her name and moves on.”

“How the hell did you put this together so quickly?”

“Let’s just say I have access to certain resources that you don’t,” I say carefully.

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Then don’t.” I shake my head. “Now this is the important part. Edith had an older brother, now deceased, but he was arrested in 1984 and charged with multiple counts of fraud and forgery, for which he served time.”

“He was a forger?” Danny says as he studies a couple of passport photos of a younger version of the woman currently calling herself Maeve Landon.

“A very good one by all accounts, but found amongst the things in his flat was a ledger of all the identities he’d created for his clients. Honestly, I don’t know why he felt the need to document everything, but it certainly made the prosecution’s case easier.”

“So, he had a list of all his sister’s aliases?” Danny looks up from the photos.

“Yep, but get this. Before she got married to husband number one, she worked as a chemist’s assistant.”

“Did she now? Do you think the brother knew she was bumping off her husbands?” Danny scans down the list of names on the paper in front of him.