Li pinched his mouth into a grim line. “Wait a second. How do you know Detective Hughes?”
Reuben’s eyes seemed to frost over. “Nope. I’m the one asking questions now. Why are you really over here?”
“Reuben, I—”
“Were you spying on the cops? Trying to solve Oscar’s murder for them?”
“No! I was just—”
“Or were you trying to find something on me?”
A cold weight plopped into Li’s stomach. He dropped his eyes to his feet.
Reuben shook his head, reminiscent of a parent disciplining a child. “I can’t believe you, Li. Don’t you think I have eyes? I saw you sneak down this aisle. I know I worked here by myself. I know my alibi rests on some dude who won’t even remember tonight. But do you really think I killed Oscar?” His eyes started to simmer. “Well? Spit it out. You think I’m a crazy killer, don’t you?”
“I never said that!”
“But you’re thinking it. It’s written all over your face.”
Li bobbed on his feet. “You … You did say you hated him.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy.”
Reuben spun on his heel and started to march out of the pasta aisle. Li seized him by the back of his shirt. “Reuben! Wait! I didn’t say I want to believe it! I … It’s just … I mean …”
Reuben ripped himself free. “Save it. You’ve said enough.”
“Would you let me finish?”
“You can barely form a complete sentence! What, you think I want to hear you accuse me of murder? Because that’s what you’re going to do!”
Li restrained him with a hand on the shoulder. “I haven’t accused you of anything! Can’t I speak for myself for once?”
Reuben charged at Li and pinned him to the shelves with his belly. His eyes fumed, and his cheeks burned with blood. “Fine, buddy. Say it. Make it short.”
“H-how do you know Oscar?”
Dark brown eyebrows scaled Reuben’s forehead. “Seriously? That’s your question? What about ‘Did you kill Oscar?’ or ‘Why did you bash in his ugly face?’”
“I want to know how you knew him. He knew you and your family. You’re hiding something.”
“I’m allowed to keep some things private, Li.”
Li’s eyes blazed like steel in a forge. “You think so, buddy? Because I guarantee that the police will find out about it.”
A shadow of fear flickered on Reuben’s face. “I … um … Sometimes I’d read his column in The Shorewood Gazette. Tough Bites. Just a restaurant review. It’s nothing.”
“You’re evading the question.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like your questions.” He pulled away from Li. “If the police find anything about Oscar in my past, it’s their problem. Not yours. This is none of your business.” He swung away from Li and stomped toward the end of the aisle. There was the flimsiest thread of tears brewing against his eyelids.
Li called out to him. “And what will Noah think if his boyfriend is held for questioning about killing a man he hated?”
It was the cheapest shot he could have made. Li’s stomach wrenched at his words. Oh crap. Did I really just say that?
Reuben’s shoes screeched on the linoleum. He swung around. Now his eyes screamed murder. His voice shook, and he had trouble keeping his fingers from curling into fists. “You know what, Li? I think you can take care of yourself from now on. Have a great life, jerk.”
He stormed away with a full hurricane over his head.
Nice going, Johnson. Care to say something else stupid? Maybe something that can get you arrested? You seem to be on a roll tonight.
Li clutched his face in his hands, rubbing his temples. His temper and his mouth betrayed him. Again. So much for his luck turning around. He slouched out of the pasta aisle, dragging his feet on the cracked linoleum. And each little fissure in the floor reminded him of the crack in Oscar’s skull.
Murder. Oh God, another murder at my job. Exactly what I needed. Li scuffed the floor with his new shoes and hobbled toward the waiting crowd. He didn’t get far. Over his shoulder, he heard some official mumblings and the brisk patter of feet. He jerked his head toward the noise.
Detective Hughes, hands jammed into his overcoat pockets, strode out of aisle six and scanned the cluster of faces in front of him. “Who’s in charge here?”
Leo faltered forward. He tried to slap on his million-dollar smile, but it came across as a fifty-cent failure. “I-I am, Detective. Leo Lewis, manager of Esther’s Family Grocery.”
Detective Hughes let his gaze rove over the young manager. “I’d like to talk to you first. Find out how this place works. Is there somewhere I can set up shop for a bit? Get these preliminary interviews out of the way?”
“Y-yes, sir. My office. It’s up the stairs here.” Leo pointed to a staircase rising from a little hallway behind the checkout stands. They led to a mezzanine level overlooking the supermarket behind a row of one-way windows. The manager’s office and security rooms were hidden there.
Detective Hughes cleared his throat. His voice was deep and official, a man used to respect. “I know it’s been a long night and you all want to get home. I personally don’t want to stay here until two a.m. However, I want to be thorough. And the best way to do that is to have your complete—”
“Of course, we’ll cooperate, Detective Hughes. I can’t think of a single citizen who wouldn’t.”
Li gaped at the woman with the nerve to interrupt the detective. That voice, deep and robust, commanded attention. The lady in the black silk jumpsuit marched out of the crowd, hand outstretched as if expecting the detective to kiss it. Her hair, its colors a reflection of the storm outside, had been bundled into a fat knot at the nape of her neck. Strong, level bangs tickled her eyelashes.
Detective Hughes had an excellent poker face, but there was a microscopic lift to his eyebrows. “Ah, Mrs. Mayor. It’s a surprise to see you here.”
“One of these unfortunate coincidences. How are Maddy and the kids?”
“Um … just fine.”
Li arched an eyebrow high into his forehead. Who’s Mrs. Mayor anyway?
The lady beamed at the detective, her dentist-adored teeth sparkling. “I’m sure I can speak for the entire Shorewood community when I say we will do everything in our power to assist you in solving this heinous crime. I will happily volunteer to be interviewed first as an example for the people.”
If Li wore glasses, he would have peered over the rims. Example for what? That the police aren’t scary? Or do you want to impress your version of tonight’s events on the police?
Detective Hughes’s smile could compete with Leo’s. “That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Mayor, but I believe I wish to keep the investigation moving in a certain direction. I promise to get your statement at the earliest possible convenience.”
Mrs. Mayor kept her smile civil, but her eyes, dark as the thunderclouds brewing above the store, narrowed. “I understand, Detective. Very proper of you. Give my best to your wife.” Chin held high, she paraded back into the crowd.
Detective Hughes addressed the assembly again. “Let’s not waste any more time. Mr. Lewis, I’ll start with you. Let’s go up to your office. As for everyone else, Officer Schafer-Schmidt”—he gestured to the man standing close enough to crowd out his shadow—“will fetch you one by one. Please stay available for questioning. Nobody leaves the store or town without my permission.”
He clapped a hand on Leo’s shoulder and guided him toward the stairs. Leo looked like a man walking to the gallows. Detective Hughes stalled at the base of the stairs, doubled back, and scanned the crowd. His eyes settled on Li.
He thrust his chin at the boy. “You come with us, Liam. I have a few questions for you.”
CHAPTER 5
Third Degree
Li’s knee jittered, and he rubbed his sweat-coated palms on his apron. His eyes darted to the sad gray clock on the sad gray wall. Twenty minutes since Detective Hug
hes shut him away in Leo’s office, in a little gray cell with gray walls, gray desk, gray chairs, gray filing cabinets, and even a gray view, since the windows hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned in several months. A blizzard of papers scattered across the dented metal desktop suggested that Leo might be over his head trying to manage a grocery store.
Li started to rock in the metal folding chair, listening to the creaks of the joints. How long was he supposed to wait in here? Until he hammered a hole in the floor with his nervous foot? Until he—?
Detective Hughes charged into the office. He fished a notebook and pencil out of his overcoat pocket, shoved aside a few documents on the desk, and slammed the notebook onto the bare spot. He dropped into an aging swivel chair and knotted his arms across his chest. He pulled his lips into a smile, but his eyes, a hard, polished buckeye brown, glared with all the potency of a basilisk. Li shrank in his chair.
“So,” the detective said, keeping his tone smooth, “I hear you’ve been snooping.”
Li chewed his bottom lip. “Sir?”
“We really don’t have the time here to be playing dumb. I know you were eavesdropping on someone in the aisle next to the crime scene.”
Li’s eyes bulged. “How did you—?”
“You and your friend need to have less public arguments.”
Color tinged Li’s cheeks. His gaze slumped to his tightly knotted hands.
Detective Hughes leaned forward. “You should listen to your friend. I don’t care for snoops. They like to think that because they are lifelong members of the Sherlock Holmes Fan Club, they can stick their noses into whatever crime they want. And it turns into a headache trying to sort all their information. This case is already a migraine.”
Detective Hughes massaged his left temple and flopped back into the chair. Li saw infant stress lines crease around the detective’s eyes. His mouth spoke before his brain could reconsider. “The cameras shorted out, didn’t they?”
Detective Hughes shot the boy an unsavory look. “How do you know that?”
“M-my friend suggested it. Our wiring is really poor, and the cameras are junk. When the weather gets stormy, they tend to burn out.”
“Not that they were very good to begin with, kid. Picture was damn blurry.” The detective shoved out a sigh. “The cameras went on the fritz shortly after Oscar entered the store by himself around seven o’clock tonight. Almost a half hour before he died. I almost exploded. A simple case became a nightmare.”
“Because of that woman, Mrs. Mayor? She seemed eager to push her way into this case.”
A smile unraveled across Detective Hughes’s face. “You better not let Constance Henderson hear you call her ‘that woman.’”
“Who is she?”
An eyebrow arched. “Exactly how new are you in town?”
“I moved here a few weeks ago after I lost my old job.”
“Then don’t worry. You’ll learn all about the mayor’s wife in due time. Constance has more clout in her pinky than Marshall, her husband, has in his whole body. Still, they make a powerful pair.” A shade of bitterness soured his words.
Li challenged him with an arched eyebrow of his own. “But you’re not the kind of man who would shrink back from his duty, are you?”
The smile brightened. “If Constance Henderson clocked the guy, she’ll look fetching in an orange jumpsuit. I can promise you that.” The smile abandoned him. “Enough small talk. I have a few questions for you.” He flipped open the notebook. “You told me you work the evening shift. When does that start and end?”
“Four p.m. to ten p.m.”
“So everyone working in the store now”—he checked his watch—“at nine o’oclock came in at four this afternoon?”
“By now? Probably. But I wouldn’t know for sure.”
“You came in at four, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Detective Hughes tapped the eraser on the pencil against his lips, studying Li’s face as if it were a forged painting. “Tell me about the bags of sugar on the riser.”
Li’s eyes widened. “There aren’t supposed to be any sugar bags on the riser.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“They’re too heavy and bulky. They’re supposed to go on the lower shelves.”
“Ah, but you saw for yourself how they were placed directly over Oscar’s head. Interesting, isn’t it? Especially since your boss already admitted to putting the sugar there earlier in the evening. Around five o’clock, he said.”
The muscles in Li’s face relaxed. “Oh. Well, that makes sense.”
“How?” The detective’s voice sharpened and his eyes zeroed in on Li’s. Li gnawed on his lower lip again. “Come on, kid. I won’t tell your boss you blabbed. What do you know?”
“Leo … Leo’s just lazy, sir. I think he’s been pretty lazy all his life. He has us work all the important jobs while he schmoozes people. He rarely stocks. And if he did … well … he slacks off on it. Did he say if the sugar was overstock?”
“He did.”
“That explains it. My friend told me he’s done stuff like that before. He’s too lazy to deal with the overstock the way we’re supposed to, so he tries to stuff it somewhere. If he put those bags of sugar up there, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Your friend seems to possess a wealth of information.”
Li swallowed and squeezed the corner of his apron, soaking it in sweat.
Detective Hughes scrawled a few notes. “Did you see Oscar Lindstrom at any time today?”
“Not today.”
“Earlier?”
“I saw him in the store on Friday when I was applying for the job here. But that was only for a few seconds. He came into the store yesterday though. Around three thirty p.m. He … um … He criticized the big weekly special pyramid I worked on.”
“Criticized, eh?”
Li kept his eyes level with the detective’s. He learned at his last job that he was received better when he didn’t cower. “I think he was a critic to his soul.”
There was no need to mention Reuben’s look of murder, right?
“I see. And what did he do after that?”
“He went down an aisle, I think.” Li’s brow furrowed. “Come to think of it, it was the spice aisle. At least, I’m pretty sure it was.”
Detective Hughes dragged the eraser across his top lip as if wanting to rub out his frown. “Are you sure about that? Did you see him later?”
“I never saw him again until I found his body, Detective. And I can’t be sure that it was the spice aisle. I thought it was, but that’s as accurate as I can be.”
The detective twirled the pencil in his fingers. The gesture was graceful, almost balletic. It betrayed a certain smoothness underneath the case-hardened scowl.
“Here’s something interesting: If Oscar Lindstrom came to the store yesterday as you claim, why did he come back today? If he did his shopping on Saturday, why return Sunday?”
“Maybe he only wanted to see if we had what he wanted.” A slight smile flickered on the boy’s face. “A recon mission. Maybe he went home, made a list, and—”
Detective Hughes’s solid poker face slipped. He eyed Li suspiciously. “Funny you should mention that …” He produced an evidence bag with a slip of paper nestled inside it. He tossed it across the desk to Li. “We found this in the lining of Oscar’s coat pocket. What do you make of it?”
Li bounced his gaze between the evidence and the detective, trying to sniff out a trap. Then, using the tips of his fingers, he pulled the bag toward him and examined its contents.
It was a list, written using a unique, personal form of abbreviation. The entries stretched down the slim shred of paper.
Milk
2dz. eggs
OJ
Apr. jelly
Hmbgr.
Rf. B.
Flr. Trtll.
Ch. Bst.
Tn. Flt.
G. W. P.
Wrctsr.
S
. A. C.
Tom.
Potes.
Bans.
2h. L.
1000 I. D.
Sgr. 5lb.
“It’s like it’s written in code,” Li replied, frowning at the stunted jumble of letters and numbers, “but I believe it’s a list of groceries. What could he possibly want a thousand of?”
Detective Hughes favored the boy with a wide grin. “My partner believes that stands for Thousand Island salad dressing.”
“Oh … Ohhhhh!” Li rescanned the list. “That clears things up … well, sort of. Still looks like gibberish sometimes.” His gaze fell on the last entry, and his eyes ballooned. “Detective! Look here! I bet this last entry means ‘sugar five lbs.’ That could be why he was in aisle six!”
“Yes, it could, but I think you failed to see something more important.”
Li’s eyes dropped to the list, shifted to the window, back to the list, up to the detective. Was this some sort of test? A trap? A challenge? Was the detective egging him on? His eyebrows knitted together. “Where did you say you found this list?”
The grin stretched. “In the lining of his overcoat pocket.”
“In the … In the lining? You mean it was hidden under the actual pocket?”
“Essentially.”
“Why on earth would anyone hide a list of groceries?”
“Aha.” Something neighboring amusement danced across those dark brown eyes. “I thought you would have caught on to that sooner. Yes, it seems strange that a man would hide a list of groceries there. When my partner turned the coat pockets out, he discovered that one of the seams had been taped over with black electrical tape. Naturally, he was curious.”
Li handed the evidence bag back to the detective. “But hiding a shopping list doesn’t mean … Wait … Hold on …” He raked a hand through his short crop of black hair. “This just got so much weirder.”
“What is it?” The detective didn’t sound so amused now.
“Where were his groceries?”
“Whose?”
Li leaned forward in his chair. “Oscar’s. If he went grocery shopping tonight using this list, he would need a shopping cart or a basket. I didn’t see a grocery-filled cart anywhere near Oscar when I found him. Did you?”
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