Page 9 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

“You’re back, then?” I mutter as he closes the door behind him with a quiet click.

“They finally cleared the snow enough for us to get to the main road. Traffic was a nightmare. We got in about an hour ago.”

“Where’s Tristan? I’d have expected him to be with you still.”

“He’s with Chan and Dusty.” Danny raises his hand and rubs the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders stiffly and wincing. “He feels guilty.”

“Why?”

He crosses the room and drops down into the chair on the opposite side of my desk. “I think a lot of it is left over from what happened during the eclipse. We should’ve known sooner what was going on with her, should’ve asked questions and protected her. Now she’s dead.”

I shake my head. “It’s not your fault or Tristan’s. Viv was a very private person. If she didn’t reach out for help, she probably had what she thought was a very good reason.”

Opening the drawer, I pull out a half-empty bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Danny’s not really one for hard liquor, so it’s a testament to his current state of mind that he doesn’t object when I pour two shots and hand one to him.

I watch as he releases a slow sigh and then takes a sip. He swallows and stares at the glass for a moment. When he finally lifts his eyes to mine, his gaze is filled with determination.

“Okay, what do we know about Viv’s murder so far?”

“At the moment”—I swirl the amber liquid in my glass before taking a sip myself—“not much. After we found her body, Maddie called it in. They turned up surprisingly fast. I wanted more time to look over the scene.”

My gaze falls to the cigarette packet with my name and the four-digit number scribbled on it, but for some reason, I don’t mention it. It’s not like I’m actively trying to keep information from my closest friend, but until I know what it means, it’s not worth mentioning. It may not even mean me; it could be another Sam.

“Has the post-mortem been done yet?” Danny asks, and I shake my head.

“I’m not sure. If it has, Maddie hasn’t mentioned it, but I doubt she’d have been able to get her hands on the report.”

“What? Why?”

“You know we told you about that new detective, Byrnes?”

Danny nods. “I haven’t met him yet.”

“That’s probably a good thing, according to Maddie. He doesn’t hold you in very high regard.”

“But he doesn’t know me.” Danny frowns.

I shrug. “I wouldn’t take it personally. The guy comes across as a bit of a prick. I can understand them giving me and Maddie the third degree at the crime scene, we were standing over a dead body at four o’clock in the morning, and it was obvious we hadn’t just stumbled upon it by chance. Holding me for questioning for hours? Yeah, that may also make sense, but I honestly wanted to punch him in the face by the end of it. He’s a real dick.”

“What exactly did you tell him?”

“We both stuck to pretty much the same story. You and Tris got stuck up north and were worried about Viv when you couldn’t get any answer from her. We told them you called Maddie, and she asked me to tag along because I know Viv. Maddie thought it was better that way, less suspicious than telling them I was the one checking up on Viv, but I think it’s just caused more problems. Byrnes is trying to shut Maddie out of the investigation every chance he gets.”

“Jesus,” Danny breathes out. “I can imagine how she reacted to that.”

I stare down at my desk, realising that I’m once again tapping my fingers against the loose papers.

“What?” Danny says after a moment.

I shake my head and scowl. “I don’t know. I have this weird feeling about the whole situation, but especially about the murder itself.”

“I get it. We’ve both seen our fair share of murder investigations, but this isn’t something either of us have ever dealt with before.”

I rock back in my chair and wince as it gives another alarming groan of protest. Taking another sip of my drink, I feel the burn as it slides down my throat. I glance up at the damp stain on the ceiling and try to organise my chaotic thoughts. “You should’ve seen her, Danny.” I swallow hard. “The killer took their time with her, drew these weird symbols all over her body. I’ve never seen anything like it, but the worst part was her mouth—” I break off, trying not to think about the ugly looping stitches of thick red cord sealing her mouth closed.

“Tristan’s been talking to Dusty about that. They think it’s some kind of curse or spell to stop her from talking in the afterlife. When Viv appeared to Tristan in that hotel room at the Ashton-Drake, he said she didn’t have a mouth at all, just a symbol where her lips used to be.”

“Begs the question, doesn’t it?” I twist my glass in absent circles on my desk. “What were they afraid she was going to say after she died, and more importantly, who did they think she was going to say it to?”