Welcome to Nevermore Bookshop

by Steffanie Holmes

  “That was easy. I grabbed them off his belt while he climbed out of his car. Bloody fool never even noticed.” Quoth grabbed my hand. “Are you ready to run? You’re going to be conspicuous in your underwear.”

  “Can’t I just ride on your back while you fly me to safety?”

  “Bloody hell, that would be fun. I wish it worked like that. Follow me. We’ll take the back way – less chance you’ll be spotted. I’ll stay close so you can see me. ”

  Quoth gritted his teeth as the feathers shoved through his skin, and his bones snapped and twisted into place. A moment later, he took off, soaring low so I could see his outline against the grass. Rubbing my hands over my goosepimpling arms, I glanced both ways for onlookers, and plunged after him.

  The police had confiscated my shoelaces, so my boots flapped about on my ankles as the soles sank into the soft, wet grass. I sprinted for the line of trees separating the police station from Donahue Road. My eyes swept the ground in front of me, but with my dwindling vision I could barely make anything out. I listened for the rustle of the leaves on the tree line, to the wind rushing over Quoth’s wings. He’ll guide me.

  The air hung damp and heavy, with a biting chill that burned in my bones. But at least it wasn’t raining anymore. Branches scraped at my skin as I followed Quoth along the tree line, heading down Donahue, past Emma’s cottage and toward the lane at the rear of the bookshop.

  Ah, to be free, where the air didn’t smell like stale urine.

  Quoth hopped into the middle of the deserted street. I peered up at the line of shops, but the only lights I could see were from the upper story of Nevermore Bookshop. I sucked in a deep breath and sprinted across the road, my boots slapping against the damp asphalt, splashing icy water up my legs. The backdoor swung open just as I reached it, and a rough hand clamped around my arm and dragged me inside.

  “Why are you running around without clothes?” Heathcliff demanded, slamming the door behind me. “You’ll catch a chill.”

  “Because she used her clothes to create a Mina-shape in the bed so no one would notice her missing for a few hours.” Moriarty chimed in from the front room. “Obviously.”

  “H-h-how did you know that?” I asked, my teeth chattering.

  “Because you’re clever, Mina Wilde, just like me.”

  “She’s nothing like you,” Heathcliff growled.

  “Hey, I’d like to th-th-think I’m at least a little bit clever,” I protested. Cold chills ran through my body. “Can one of you lend me some cl-cl-clothing?”

  Morrie jumped up and took the stairs two at a time. Heathcliff led me to his chair and pushed me down. He shrugged off his coat. Quoth was already carrying over a teapot, holding the tray just so to hide his genitals.

  He must be freezing his nuts off. I bet that’s why he doesn’t want me to see.

  I wrapped my hands around the hot cup of tea, marveling at how Quoth – who’d known me for three days – got it just right, while Ashley had never been able to remember whether I had milk. Morrie appeared in the doorway with an armload of clothes.

  “Since you’re a woman of refined tastes, I skipped Quoth’s closet and Heathcliff’s cesspool of stench and procured these garments from my own wardrobe.” He handed me a pair of buttery-soft grey trousers. I pulled them on. Morrie bit his lip as I rolled the hems up and stuffed them into my boots. He handed me a long-sleeve black silk shirt and a fine wool jacket. I wish I had a mirror. I bet I look dapper as fuck. “I found you a belt, too, since these will fall off that tiny waist of yours.” He handed me a supple belt of fine leather and I threaded it through the loops.

  I struck a pose. “How do I look?”

  “Not as ridiculous as Morrie,” Heathcliff answered.

  “It’s nice to see you again, too, Your Honor,” I grinned.

  “I’m your lawyer, not a judge.”

  “Right now, I don’t care. What’s the plan? We didn’t get to discuss details before I got dragged away by the police.”

  “You’re going to wait right here for our friend to show.” Morrie patted my shoulder. “Heathcliff, Quoth and I are going to hide amongst the shelves. We’ll ambush the guy when he shows up.”

  “Why do I have to be the bait?”

  “Three reasons. Because this guy’s expecting to see a woman. If he knows Ashley, he probably knows you. I’m the criminal mastermind, so I don’t do bait. And also, because Heathcliff and Quoth are never going to be convincing as fashionistas.”

  “True enough.” I waved my hand at Heathcliff. “Out of that chair. You need to hide and I need to look like I belong here.”

  “If you ruin my arse groove, I’m firing you,” Heathcliff shuffled off toward the Ancient Languages room across the hall.

  “Be safe, Mina.” Quoth’s piercing eyes bore into mine. He bent down and brushed his lips across the top of my head. The feather-light touch reverberated through my whole body, piercing my core. “I won’t let you out of my sight.”

  He slumped to his knees, holding his head as his body contorted into the raven. My heart wept for him. He’d transformed so many times tonight. His body must be screaming with pain, but he showed nothing.

  Quoth fluttered up onto the chandelier, folding his wings away and sinking into the shadows. No one would see him there unless they were looking for him.

  Morrie placed a finger under my chin, tilting my head up. “You’re the hottest bait I’ve ever used.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  He pressed his lips to mine, devouring me in his chaotic energy, feeding me the strength I needed to get through this.

  Morrie drew away, his sweetness lingering.

  I sat behind the desk, touching my lips. I pulled a book from the top of Heathcliff’s stack. To my surprise, it was Wuthering Heights. Why’s he reading his own story again? Surely that’s just torturing himself? I shuffled through the stack until I found an Agatha Christie book, and opened that. After I read the same page twelve times without comprehending a word, I closed the book and settled for checking my watch every twenty seconds.

  I didn’t have to wait long. The door creaked open, setting my heart a-pattering. I leaned over the desk and squinted into the darkness.

  A dark figure appeared in the doorway. That’s him. That’s the guy who killed Ashley.

  “Hello,” I said, holding up the drawing. “I’ve got something I think you want. If you step this way, I think we can make an arrangement.”

  The figure stepped forward, under the shaft of light beaming from the chandelier. His features leapt out in stark profile, and I jumped in surprise.

  “Darren?”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Darren stared at me from the other side of the table. “Hi, Mina.”

  I quickly shoved the drawing under the stack of books, my mind whirring. Darren must have seen me at the doorway and come to talk to me about Ashley some more. I’ve got to get him out of here before the killer gets here.

  “Hi Darren. I’m sorry, I can’t talk now. The shop’s actually closed. I’m just doing some accounts and I want to finish up.”

  “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  His eyes unsettled me. Why did he come in the shop, then? “Who did you expect to see, Darren?”

  “Ashley, of course.”

  “Um… why would Ashley be in the bookshop?” A nervous tickle prickled the back of my neck.

  “This is the last place I saw her,” he said, shifting his weight to his other foot. “I thought… I thought I’d lost her forever, but when I got her message I realized that she wasn’t really dead, so I came to see her. I came to see if she’d accept my offer.”

  Darren’s words sunk into my mind. The last place I saw her.

  Darren had been in the shop that night.

  Other pieces slotted into place. How he’d mentioned in the supermarket that he’d been following Ashley on social media. How he lived over the butcher shop and could’ve seen any comings and goings, and made it in and out
without passing Earl on the corner. How Earl found two beer cans in the bushes outside the shop. Not just any beer – expensive locally-brewed IPA.

  Shit.

  It’s Darren.

  Darren killed Ashley. But why?

  I glanced at the shelves behind Darren’s head, but it was so dark, I couldn’t see Quoth anywhere.

  Keep him talking. Get him to confess.

  “What offer was that, Darren?”

  “I asked her to marry me. I saved all my money from working at the market, every single penny. That was how I could afford to buy those drawings. I brought some ugly knifes, from eBay, just because she was selling them.”

  The murder weapon. “But why? If you loved her so much, why did you kill her?”

  “When Ashley went to New York, she took the sun and the moon with her. I couldn’t bear to be parted from her, but at least I got to see what she was doing on social media. All those famous people loved her! Of course they did, she’s amazing.”

  Darren stepped forward. “She sent me messages. She needed money to promote her social media. She wanted to earn enough to get professional modeling photographs done so she could go to LA and become a movie star. She was going to be the biggest star in the world! But it would be hard, financially, while she built her new career. I decided to show her I could provide for us both. So I purchased her drawings. I bid out all the fashionable people who wanted them. She told me to get a temporary job as a server at the gala, so I spent my savings on a ticket. It was worth it to see her in person again. She told me to use a burner phone so no one could trace the exchange back to me, but I printed out all her messages. No way would I destroy any of her precious words. Once, she sent me a love heart emoji, because she felt the same way.”

  I remembered from a terrible action film that when you were negotiating with crazed assailants, you try and treat them as if they’re on your side and you justify all their ravings until an opportunity presented itself to take them out. I nodded. “Yes. She did have feelings for you.”

  “I knew it,” Darren moaned, bringing his left hand up to wipe the tears welling in his heads. His right hand remained behind his back. “I knew she loved me. She’s always paid special attention to me, always asking me to help her with her computer or finish her homework. She needed me. She trusted me. She—”

  “Darren, tell me about the night at the gala. What happened next?”

  “Oh yes.” Darren glanced up, his eyes glazing over as if he’d forgotten where he was. “I met Ashley at the service entrance, after I’d served the starter course. Ashley couldn’t stay long because she had to get back to you. I hated you that night, Mina, because you got to be with her, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before I’d be the one taking her to fancy galas. I gave Ashley the cash and she handed me the pictures, kissed me on the cheek—” he rubbed a pimply spot on his face, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling. “I was so happy to see her and to have her trust, I just threw down my apron and ran out of there. I even dropped one of the drawings on the steps outside. Can you imagine my face?” He grinned happily. “It was all worth it, just to see her. It was our first real date.”

  “What did you do with the drawings?” I asked.

  “Oh, I keep them pressed in an album under my bed,” he said. “They remind me of Ashley, and she wanted me to have them. I’d never dream of selling them.”

  “You lied to me in the market. Ashley contacted you again when she decided to come back to Argleton.”

  “It was the best day of my life when I got that text,” he grinned. “She didn’t give me much time, so I planned as best I could. I found a beautiful ring in Debenhams. Luckily they were having a sale, so I could buy a new shirt, as well. I had a bottle of American IPA imported especially to celebrate. But she didn’t want to see me in person. She thought it was too dangerous, so she made me put the money in a book, and then she came back for the book and left the drawings. But I didn’t care about the drawings. I cared about her. I waited outside the bookshop for her when she dropped them off, but she didn’t come out and I had to go back to work. She didn’t respond to my message about meeting up. I get it, I mean, she’s so busy and important. But I needed to see her.

  “I thought I’d missed my chance, but when I saw her go into the bookshop through my window that night, I knew it was the perfect opportunity. I found her by the bookcase. I went down on one knee and told her how much I loved her.” Darren’s mouth twitched. “She pushed me away. She told me to stop being silly, to get out, that she had to talk to you. That she had come to see you. She didn’t care about me. It was Mina, Mina, Mina.”

  Darren’s hand clenched into a fist. His cheeks reddened and his jaw clenched. “You ruined everything! You took Ashley away from me and turned her against me. She was tainted by you now, spoiled. She couldn’t be my wife, and it was all your fault!”

  “So you killed her.”

  “No, you killed her,” Darren whispered. “You killed her because you wouldn’t let her go. You took my Ashley away from me. She went to New York with you and she didn’t love me anymore, and then you broke her heart so she couldn’t love me.”

  “No, that’s—”

  “You hurt Ashley,” Darren whipped his hand from behind his back, revealing a long object that glinted in the light. A knife. He raised the blade above his head and stared down at me, his face twisted with hatred. “And now I’m going to hurt you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Darren lunged over the desk, the knife aiming for my throat. I shoved off from the desk. The chair scooted across the hardwood floor and smashed into the wall. Darren’s knife went into the desk, burying the blade an inch into the wood. Darren grabbed the handle with both hands and tried to wrench it free. When it wouldn’t budge, he picked up the Doomsday Book Heathcliff had lying on his desk and lunged at me again.

  I screamed and scooted to the left, just as Darren slammed the book down where my head had once been. The heavy book overbalanced Darren and he toppled forward.

  A wild screech echoed through the room as something soared over my head. Quoth dug his talons into Darren’s shoulders. Darren yelled and flung the book behind his back.

  “Quoth!” I cried, but the raven jerked out of the way. The book slammed on Darren’s back. He yelled and dropped to the floor. Heathcliff leapt out of the storage cupboard and straddled him, pinning Darren with his knees and slamming his fist into his nose with such a tremendous force I expected Darren’s body to bust through the floor.

  “No!” I yelled. Heathcliff punched Darren again. Darren sobbed as his blood splattered up the side of the desk. Quoth tugged on his shirt, but Heathcliff didn’t stop. His eyes glowed with a fierce rage that terrified me.

  “Easy, big guy.” Morrie grabbed his shoulders and threw him off Darren. “We’ll let the police handle him.”

  The door burst open, and in rolled Inspector Hayes and Sergeant Wilson, flanked by two uniformed officers, and Jo.

  “This is where Mina will go,” she said breathlessly, swiping her blonde hair out of her eyes. “Please don’t treat her too harshly. I’m sure she’s just scared—”

  Jo stopped short as she saw me. She blinked twice. “Mina?”

  “Ah. I see the constabulary are well ahead of us.” Morrie dropped his phone back into his pocket.

  “Mina Wilde,” Inspector Hayes boomed. “Breaking out of custody is a serious offense and you’ll—”

  “Ah, good, officers, you’re just in the nick of time,” Morrie kicked Darren’s limp foot with his brogue. “Miss Wilde, Mr. Earnshaw and I have captured Ashley Greer’s murderer.”

  “What?” The inspector’s eyes took in Darren’s prone body, Heathcliff’s murderous expression, and the blood splattered up the wall.

  “We did.” I nodded. “No need to thank us. Just make our medals gold and shiny.”

  “What’s all this about?” Wilson demanded. “Wilde is the murderer. She’s proven that by making a run for it. Why are you two boys me
ddling in a police matter?”

  “Because a great miscarriage of justice is about to be done on your watch,” Morrie said, flashing me a wicked grin. “And I’m a big fan of the justice-ing.”

  “It’s not going to look good if you incompetent twits arrest the wrong person,” Heathcliff added, lifting Darren off the floor.

  “Help me,” Darren whimpered, gripping his bloody nose.

  “What are you doing to that lad?”

  “Saving him for you, Inspector. This here is the real murderer of Ashley Greer.”

  “He broke my nose!” Darren yelled. “I need an ambulance.”

  “We have enough evidence to charge Miss Wilde with the crime—”

  “But I didn’t do it. And I can prove it.” I held up the drawing I’d made. “Ashley was selling Marcus Ribald’s drawings to Darren. She used her social media page to send veiled messages about when to meet up and do the exchange. What I told you back at the station was true – I had Marcus’ drawings in my purse because I took them from Ashley’s suitcase. Once we found them we realized that whoever was buying the drawings might’ve killed Ashley to silence her. I created a fake post with a fake drawing on Ashley’s social media page, telling the killer to meet me here tonight. And Darren showed up and tried to kill me.”

  I pointed to the knife buried in the desk. Jo leaned forward to peer at the blade. “It’s the same size and shape as the blade used to kill Greer.”

  “It could be her blade,” the officer insisted.

  “Unlikely. Mina and Ashley sold their blades together. This young man’s been obsessed with Miss Greer ever since secondary school. He purchased them to own something she touched.” Morrie set his phone down on the desk and hit the PLAY button. Darren’s voice pierced the air, unleashing his story of woe.

  Morrie clicked the phone off and handed it to a stunned inspector. “It’s all on there. How Darren followed Ashley to New York to buy the first set of drawings, likely bidding out other buyers so he could get the chance to be needed by Ashley.” He jabbed his finger at the screen. “I’ve also taken the liberty of downloading Darren’s flight itinerary and his hotel bill from the Big Apple. If you pull security footage from the gala dinner on that same week, I bet we can prove he was at the same location as the victim. According to his confession, when he saw on her social media that she was returning to Argleton, he approached her to ask if she wanted to sell more designs. She arranged to insert the drawings into a book in this very shop – a book she knew no one was likely to pick up – and Darren was supposed to pick them up later and leave the money. But when he found out he wouldn’t even see Ashley during the exchange, he went about trying to find another way to reveal his love to her. That’s the text message you found on her phone, begging her to meet in person. He watched her from his flat as she walked past the shop that night and realized the door was open, so she snuck upstairs to try to talk to Mina. He followed her to propose to her. She laughed in his face, of course—” Morrie’s lips curled up into his cruel smile. “I didn’t get that on tape, but we know that’s what happened – and he became angry and killed her. Case closed. If you can’t wrap your pea-sized minds around everything I’ve just said, I’ve recorded his entire confession.”