“Oh, for sure.”
Now it’s Erick’s turn to almost spit out his coffee and put a hand over his mouth until he regains control.
“What?”
“You’re starting to sound like a local.”
I reflect on my almost-Canada-style response and smirk. “Oh, yeah, I see what I did there. Anyway, back to my hunch.” Wink. “I saw Roman arguing with Vassili and shoving him against the railing. Which is why he would’ve been even more upset if he found out that, in addition to getting all the money, Vassili was simultaneously having an affair with Iris and schtupping a waitress on his dead wife’s memorial cruise.”
“Schtupping?”
“Guilty.” I shrug. “Foster family number five was Jewish. They were nice enough, but there was a lot of Yiddish and words like ‘schtupping’ that I can’t seem to erase from my mind.”
“Fair enough.” Erick pushes his plate back and grips his coffee with his strong sexy fingers. Don’t judge. It might sound strange to say fingers are sexy, but think about it. Some fingers have hairy knuckles. Some fingers are fat and sausage-y. Some fingers have hideously cared for nails. Maybe it’s just me, but he’s got sexy fingers.
“Mitzy? Mitzy? Am I boring you already?”
“Not likely. I drifted off into one of my mind movies.”
“Is that a film-school-dropout thing?” He raises an eyebrow expectantly.
I give him a half grin and an eyelid flutter. “It’s a me thing. It was a survival skill I developed after my mom passed away. When things would get too sad or too hard or too real, I would disappear into my mind. Unfortunately, the problem got worse after film school.”
Erick reaches across the table, and when I slip my hand in his, he gently rubs his thumb across my fingers. “I’ll never be able to really express how sorry I am that you lost your mother. But, is it wrong of me to be glad that you ended up in Pin Cherry?”
My heart swells in my chest and my rib cage feels too small to contain it. “No, it’s actually kind of sweet.”
He gives my hand a squeeze. “Time for me to get back to the station. You’ll let me know what you find out, right?” Erick slides out of the booth and walks toward the door, giving me a perfect excuse to look over my shoulder and enjoy his exit.
“I always share my intel, Sheriff.”
“How about we shoot for sharing in a timely manner this go-round, Moon?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
His head wags from side to side, and the low rumble of his chuckle disappears as he leaves the diner.
Bussing our dishes, I place them in the dish bin behind the counter, because when you’ve worked in the service industry as long as I have, you know there’s always a bus bin behind the counter.
I wave to Odell and say goodbye to Tally as I head back to the bookshop to study my murder wall and plan my next move.
Fortuitously, my phone rings with a call from Mr. Willoughby.
“Good morning, Silas. How may I help you?”
My extreme formality actually elicits a chuckle from Mr. Manners.
“You’re at the bookshop, right—? Never mind, I see the Model T.” I end the call without saying goodbye, which I know I will be admonished for, but I’m literally steps away from my shop.
My mentor’s pristine 1908 Model T is parked out front. I check the main door of the bookstore and find it open. That means Twiggy is here and ready to knock me down a peg.
“Before you say anything, Silas, I’m sorry I hung up.”
He harrumphs into his bushy grey mustache and smooths it with a thumb and forefinger. “Indeed.”
“Privacy?” I point toward my apartment.
He nods sharply and his hangdog jowls waggle to and fro.
Walking toward the circular staircase, I’m surprised to find the “No Admittance” sign and chain hanging unhooked. “Twiggy? Twiggy, did you unhook the chain?”
Her disembodied voice drifts down from above. “Sharp as a tack, doll. I’m unloading a shipment of rare books. You should be glad I didn’t hire some young punks to help me lug these boxes up the stairs. They woulda agitated Pyewacket and you’d have paid the price.”
As I circle up the winding staircase, I can’t resist saying, “So, you can leave the chain unhooked, but I can’t?” I cross my arms and wait as Twiggy backs down the enormous ladder on the left arm of the mezzanine balcony.
When she reaches the bottom, she brushes some dust off her dungarees, flicks her grey pixie cut to the side and nods. “Exactly.”
Throwing my hands up in the air in defeat, I walk over to the secret bookcase door, pull the candle handle, and invite Silas to follow me in.
As the door slides back, a thought pops into my head. “Can you get me a copy of the medical examiner’s report for Vassili’s murder?”
“I will have to handle your sudden request this afternoon. I am wanted at the Barnes estate this morning.”
I make no attempt to hide my curiosity. “Why? Is someone else dead?”
“I should think not. However, according to the provisions of Liliané Barnes’ will, in the event that Vassili should precede her in death, her estate would be transferred to the contingent beneficiary.”
“But Vassili didn’t precede her in death. He receded her, or post-ceded her—or something.”
“Succeeded. However, due to the fact that he died intestate, Mrs. Barnes’ attorney has enacted the contingent beneficiary clause. The family will, of course, protest, as they must, but the executor has asked me to come to the estate to begin the process of probate.”
“You’re the contingent beneficiary?” I scrunch up my nose and shake my head in confusion.
“No, I am not. But I represent the contingent beneficiaries, the Queen of Heaven Pet Cemetery and the Pin Cherry Harbor Animal Shelter.”
“She left everything to the shelter and the cemetery? She’s worth billions, right?”
Ghost-ma clears her throat. “I hardly think it was billions, dear.”
“Grams, now is not the right time for your socialite competition.”
Silas can only hear my side of the conversation, but he’s a learned man, especially in the ways of Myrtle Isadora. He pulls out his alchemically altered spectacles, cleans the rose-tinted lenses, and hooks the wire arms behind his ears. Once he locates the ghost, with the assistance of his glasses, he launches into his speech. “Isadora, it was generous of Liliané to leave her funds to a worthy cause, since she has fallen out with her family. You, on the other hand, should be grateful that you were able to share your wealth with your granddaughter. Not all families are able to repair the wounds of time.”
Grams’ unnaturally youthful visage is fraught with indecision.
I don’t have time for this detour. “Silas, you have to get me into that house. I know one of those kids is responsible for killing Vassili, and I’m sure that if I can get access to the house, I’ll get a feeling.”
“And how would you propose I accomplish that? You met each and every one of the family members aboard last night’s gambling boat memorial service. I should hardly think they would welcome you into their estate.”
“I can be your assistant. I’ll wear a disguise.”