“Because… because Quoth isn’t supposed to be here. The person who discovers the body is always a suspect. If the police know he found the body, they will look too deep into his background, and they’ll take him away to a very bad situation.”
“You mean jail. Is Quoth a criminal?” I bet he’s a creepy stalker, I thought but didn’t say.
“No, I do not mean jail,” Morrie said. He reached up and stroked my hair. With Heathcliff’s huge arms around me and Morrie touching my face, my focus wavered, my mind slipping further from reality. “Quoth’s never so much as collected a speeding ticket, nevermind broken any useful law. This situation is complicated, and he won’t want to burden you with his story right after you’ve just had this shock. But if the police knew he was here at all, it would be bad for him, for all of us.”
“You want me to lie to the police to protect this guy?” A horrible thought occurred to me. “But he was downstairs alone at the same time as Ashley. He could have done this to her.”
“He wasn’t alone, and he didn’t do this,” Morrie said. “I know that for a fact.”
“As do I,” said Heathcliff.
“How, how?”
“Gorgeous, we don’t have time to give you the full story. I promise that whatever happens, we’ll lend our considerable resources to protect you. And as soon as we can we’ll tell you everything. Right now, all I need for you to do is trust me. Can you do that?”
“Ashley is dead and you’re asking me to lie to the police. No, of course I can’t bloody trust you!”
“Only to protect an innocent person who absolutely did not commit this crime. But if they know he was first to see the body they will focus on him instead of going after the real killer.”
“I can’t believe you’re asking me to do this.”
“I can’t either,” Heathcliff growled. “Mina should speak the truth. We’ll figure out a way to help Quoth. We always do.”
“I’m not forcing Mina to do this,” Morrie said. “It’s her decision. But it would be infinitely easier if she left Quoth out of it. If she felt bad afterward, she could always go to the police and change her story, say the shock affected her and made her forget certain details.”
“You’ve accounted for my eventual betrayal?” I didn’t know whether to be impressed or offended.
“All you need to tell the police is exactly what you saw – that we all heard a noise, and you came down the stairs after us and saw the body on the floor, already dead. Just leave out the part about Quoth coming down first.”
“Where will Quoth be in this story?”
“Nowhere. Quoth doesn’t ‘technically’ live here. So just don’t mention him.”
“But he’s upstairs getting the tea!”
Morrie shook his head. “No, he’s not.”
I broke from Heathcliff’s grasp and raced upstairs, tripping on the second step and pitching forward, nearly chipping another tooth on the doorknob. I caught myself and fumbled through the living room to the tiny kitchen at the rear of the flat. Unlike the living room, it fit the vernacular of typical bachelor flat – a mess of unwashed dishes and empty takeout containers in various stages of decomposition. Wind whipped the curtains from the open back window.
I lifted the kettle off the stove. It was ice cold. Quoth was nowhere to be found.
Chapter Eleven
“Are you okay to answer a few questions now, ma’am?” The young sergeant asked, her eyes eager.
I sat in Heathcliff’s chair in the main room of the shop. A cup of tea sat undrunk on the desk in front of me. Nevermore Bookshop was now officially a crime scene. Police officers filled the tiny space, combing the staircase, hallway, and garden for clues while the SOCO team worked upstairs, first zipping Ashley’s body into a white bag and removing her to wherever they took bodies, then taping off the Sociology shelves and dusting and dabbing and tweezing every tiny scrap of physical evidence. Heathcliff flanked my left side, a strong, warm hand resting on my shoulder. His presence was all that kept the bile rising in my throat.
“Yeah, sure.” I tied my unruly hair up into a bun, then let it down again. I folded my hands in my lap, then unfolded them. I dabbed at my eyes, but they were dry. I didn’t know what a person was supposed to do when their ex-best friend was murdered.
“You were the one who found the victim?”
“No. I mean, not really.” I pointed to the tall figure standing across the room speaking with another police officer. His eyes met mine, eyebrows raised in pleading. My stomach churned. I screwed up my eyes. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “I was behind Morrie and Heathcliff. We heard a noise and ran downstairs and we found her lying on the ground, and the knife…”
And Quoth, Quoth was there first. He found the body and then he fled. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t make them fall out. Maybe it was Heathcliff’s hand on my shoulder, or Morrie’s smile, or the wave of exhaustion washing over me. My cheeks burned with heat. Any moment now, Sergeant Wilson would call me out on my lie and throw me in jail…
Instead, she patted my hand. “Please, take your time. I know it was a horrible thing to see. I understand you knew the victim?”
“Yes. Her name is Ashley Greer. Her mum lives up on Donahue Road. We’ve been friends since we were fifteen, and we lived together in New York City for the last four years.” I pulled at a loose thread on my skirt. “Actually, we used to be friends. Ashley and I had a falling out recently and we haven’t talked in a few weeks. I didn’t know she was back in town until she showed up at the shop.”
Sergeant Wilson scribbled furiously. “You used to be friends?”
“Yeah. Back in New York City, we were both working for the same fashion designer. Ashley got competitive over a job we were both up for. She told the designer something about me – a secret I told her in confidence – so the designer would choose her instead.”
“What did she say about you?”
My throat closed.
“It’s not important. It’s not relevant to the investigation,” Heathcliff snapped.
“I’ll decide what’s relevant.” But I shook my head and the sergeant didn’t press. Instead, she turned back through her pages of notes. “You saw Ashley in the shop this evening?”
“No, earlier today. She came into the bookshop this afternoon, and stayed for an hour or so.” I flicked my head toward the staircase, and a pang of nausea clenched my gut. “She spent most of her time in the Sociology section. She even came back after she changed her outfit.”
“Why did she change her outfit?”
I explained how the shop’s raven had left a present on her shoulder. “She must’ve been looking for something in particular, but she never asked for help. We only spoke for a few moments.”
Sergeant Wilson added several notes on her pad. “You speak as if her behavior was strange.”
“Ashley’s not a sociology buff. In fact, she’s not really into books or learning at all. This is the last place I’d expect to see her.”
“Do you think she came here to talk to you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t think so. She seemed surprised to see me.”
“And where would you expect to see her around the village, if not in the bookshop?”
In a dark cave, sharpening her claws. “I don’t know. At home with her mum, at the pub, or heading down to London for shopping or a gig. Ashley never liked Argleton much. It’s not her scene.”
“So you have no idea what made her return to the bookshop this evening?”
I shook my head. “The bookshop wasn’t even open. The door would normally be locked. It was only open because Morrie left it unlocked for my visit. We’re building a website for the shop.”
“So you didn’t invite her back to the bookshop?”
I shook my head “No.”
“And you have no idea what she was doing downstairs after hours?”
“I already said that! There weren’t even any lights on. Qu— Morrie turned the
m on when he came down the stairs.”
“Ashley wasn’t looking for you? Perhaps she wanted to discuss what you were fighting about.”
“I doubt it. As far as Ashley was concerned, she hadn’t done anything wrong. I was the one being over-dramatic. Why are you asking me about my fight with Ashley? That’s not going to help you find her killer.”
“One more thing.” Sergeant Wilson held up a plastic bag containing a plain ring – a small diamond on a narrow gold band. “This ring was found in the victim’s pocket. Do you recognise it?”
I shook my head. “Ashley would never be caught dead in something like that. It’s not even close to her style.”
Sergeant Wilson snapped her pad shut and stood up. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mina. That’s all we need for now. However, we may ask you to come down to the station for further questioning, so don’t leave the county, got it?”
“Hey, guv?” one of the officers called out. “I found something.”
I watched the sergeant walk away, my mind reeling. Further questioning? Don’t leave the county?
Are they making me a suspect?
The uniformed officer crouched beside the wingback chair under the window. He held up a book. Bright illustrated cats danced across the dust jacket. The homeless man’s book. “I found this shoved under that chair,” he said. “There’s a bit of a stink over here, too, like a cat puked up.”
“That’s the book the homeless man was reading earlier,” I said. “But it shouldn’t be under the chair. I put it away on the shelf.”
“Homeless man?” Wilson narrowed her eyes at me. “You didn’t mention this.”
“His name is Earl,” Heathcliff called out. “Long beard, tatty coat. I let him come in sometimes when the shop’s quiet an’ read.”
“That’ll be Earl Larson, then?” The officer asked. Heathcliff nodded. “We’re aware of him. I’ve done him a few times for loitering ‘n causing a disturbance down the pub, but he’s a good sort. Mostly harmless.”
“He was in earlier today,” I said. “He sat in that chair reading for about an hour. But I swear I put that book away.” Wilson made a gesture to the officer, who slid a paper evidence envelope from the open packet on the table and inserted the book inside. Tonight I’d learned that evidence bags should always be paper, not clear plastic like they were on TV.
“If the door was open, maybe he came back. He might’ve wanted shelter from the storm.”
“That’s what we thought when we heard the noise. There was a thump, and the sound of the door slamming.”
She turned to Heathcliff. “You said there was money missing from the till?”
I glanced at Heathcliff in surprise. He nodded. “Aye, about a hundred quid.”
Wilson added the evidence bag to her stack of papers, and made a note on her pad. “Thank you for this information. We’ll need to have a word with Mr. Larson. Any other unusual activity in the shop over the last few days, Mina?”
“I’ve only worked here two days,” I said.
“Oh, I see.” She scribbled something else down. The knot of panic in my chest tightened. Why is she so interested in everything I say? “Mr. Earnshaw, have you noticed anything out of the ordinary in or around the shop recently?”
“Nothing unusual,” Heathcliff said. Wilson dismissed me to question him, and I went to stand with Moriarty on the landing. He’d finished chatting to the Chief Inspector, and was watching the SOCO team work through the evidence with a rapt expression on his face.
“Why do you look so happy? Ashley was just murdered.”
“Murder fascinates me.” Morrie’s arm slid around my shoulders, pulling me tight against him. I sank into the warmth of his body and his lavender and vanilla scent. “I’ve already read every book in the True Crime section. In another life, I might’ve been a detective. It’s fascinating seeing a crime scene unfolding in real life. So how’s the number one suspect?”
“You mean me?”
“Of course you. Couldn’t you tell from all those questions Sergeant Jenny Wilson was asking you?”
“How am I the number one suspect?”
“It’s elementary.” Morrie grinned, ticking off points on his fingers. “You had a falling out with the victim. You saw her earlier today, so you knew she was in town. She was killed in your workplace, at night, while you were upstairs. You were one of the first people to find the body.”
Bloody hell. When he put it like that… “But I was hanging out with you guys the whole time. You’re my alibis.”
“Yes, and no.”
“What do you mean, and no?”
“I’ve just overheard Sergeant Wilson asking Heathcliff about his personal life. If she doesn’t know his reputation as the resident village Bernard Black, she’ll find out soon enough. My own reputation precedes me as well. She may believe we’d be inclined to protect you because we’re lonely bachelors and you’re the first pretty girl who tolerates our eccentricities. It does look pretty suspicious you got this job two days ago without any bookshop experience, and now your old friend turns up dead.”
“But I’m only a suspect because I’m lying to protect Quoth.” I slid out from under his arm. “This is all your fault. I never should have lied.”
“You can go and tell Wilson about Quoth if it’s really important to you,” Morrie grinned. “Of course, if you tell her you lied about that detail, you’ll look even more guilty.”
“I can’t believe you did this to me,” I hissed. “I might be in serious trouble because I lied. You never told me I’d be making myself into a suspect. I thought you were my friend.”
“We’re whatever you want us to be, gorgeous.” Morrie held out his hand. “I made you a promise. We all did – we’ll protect you. We take our promises seriously. We’re going to find out who did this and get you off the hook for this murder.”
“And just how are you going to do that?” I folded my arms across my chest.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m very clever. Quoth can be resourceful. And Heathcliff is terrifying, especially if someone he cares about is in trouble.”
“Heathcliff doesn’t care about me. He’s barely known me three days, and he doesn’t even seem to like me that much.”
“If you say so.” Morrie waved at someone. “Between the four of us, we will make sure the real killer is punished for what he’s done. Hey, there’s Jo.”
“Hey Morrie!” A woman on the other side of the police tape swiped a blonde lock off her face and made a shooing motion at me. “Don’t lean over the tape like that. We can’t risk you contaminating the scene.”
“Right.” I leaned back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Mina’s lying,” Morrie said.
“What?” My heart pounded. “Don’t say that. I’m not lying. I haven’t lied about anything.”
I glared at Morrie, but his expression was completely innocent. “Mina’s not sorry at all. She’s a morbid freak just like me and you. She wants to know all about your work here.”
To my surprise, the lady laughed. “Oh Morrie, you are a hoot.” She smiled at me. “Don’t mind him. He came to a talk I gave at this year’s Argleton Writers Festival on poisons in Agatha Christie novels. It was a room full of old biddies and this strapping specimen, staring at me with those icy blues and frantically taking notes. He’s been plying me with beer in exchange for gory stories ever since. But I haven’t had the pleasure?”
“Mina Wilde, chief suspect.” I held out my hand. At first I’d wondered if Jo was Morrie’s girlfriend. They’d certainly make a striking pair, with his impressive height and sharp cheekbones and her LA model looks and matching ice-blue eyes. But the way she spoke about him, like he was some annoying little brother she secretly adored, made me think they were just friends. That shouldn’t have made a difference to me, but it did. I wanted to like this woman, and I wanted her to like me and also not convict me of murder.
Jo held up her own hand, clad in a silicon glove,
in a wave. “Jo Southcombe, medical examiner. I do dead bodies. Sorry, I would shake but I don’t want to contaminate the evidence, and I’m guessing you don’t want that, either, Miss Chief Suspect?”
“Not in the slightest. So how much do I have to pay you to plant evidence to make me look innocent?”
Her mouth faltered.
“Kidding. I’m kidding. Please, ignore what I just said. I’m a little freaked out.”
Jo turned to Morrie. “I can see why you like her.”
Like me? Jo spoke as if the two of them had talked about me before. But I’d only known Morrie for two days, and we’d only had a couple of conversations and some flirty texts. In between his company losing all that money and going to London to see his banker, when had he found the time to talk to Jo about me? And what did she mean by like me? Was it as a friend, or… or…
“Have you found anything interesting?” Morrie asked, avoiding commenting on Jo’s observation.
“Always, but I can’t tell you anything. Not while you’re on our suspect list, too.” Jo picked up a box filled with evidence bags. “I need to head to the lab. Have fun, you two. Don’t mess up my crime scene. Mina, if you’re not heading to jail, I hope I’ll see you around.”
“Tomorrow I’ll ply her with alcohol and she’ll tell me all about the autopsy,” Morrie whispered to me as we watched Jo’s swinging ponytail disappear out the door. “We’re going to figure this out, gorgeous. You’ll see.”
Morrie squeezed my hand. I tried to focus on what the SOCO team were doing. It was interesting seeing them dust for prints and bag up fibers from the carpet. But my brain kept circling back to how only an hour earlier, Ashley’s body had been lying in that very spot, dead.
And now I was the chief suspect in her murder.
Chapter Twelve
All I wanted to do was lie in bed all morning and scrub my eyeballs until I could no longer see Ashley’s body with that knife sticking out of her back. But I was a responsible employee now, and I wanted to talk to Heathcliff and Morrie without the police around. I dragged myself out of bed, pulled on a pair of cuffed tartan pants and a red silk shirt, choked down a chocolate, blueberry, and beetroot smoothie (it tasted like dandruff mixed with dirt), and walked across the estate into the village.
A Dead and Stormy Night Page 9