"I'm sorry;" Justice said, then pulled a notebook and pen from his left inside pocket.
"So am I." I leaned around Fifi and rolled a chair over to me. My knees were shaking. I lowered myself onto the leather seat. At least I could tell that he didn't know about Verlene's book yet or it would have been his banner headline.
Justice clicked the pen. "Look, there's no easy way to approach this, but . . ."
I sank into the chair. Please, don't bring up Trey around Andreas, please, please.
"The Brooklyn district attorney's office would like to exhume your mother's body."
Time warped, wrapped around me, then stood still.
My chest tightened. My breathing came in ragged spurts. "My mom?" Where did this come from?
"You have to be kidding." Fifi stared at Justice.
"I'm sorry, but there seem to be some discrepancies with her tox screen."
"What are you talking about? There were no tox screens. My mom was DOA."
Fifi crossed her hands tightly over her chest.
Andreas moved to my side and slid his hands onto my shoulders. He rubbed his thumbs into the knots forming on the back of my neck. The pain shooting through my shoulders was excruciating. I remained rigid as I waited for an answer.
Justice flipped a couple of pages then looked up. "Apparently, because your mother was dead, they drew blood samples for the phlebotomy students to, uh . . . Anyway, the samples were labeled and stored as part of the, uh . . . I mean their, uh . . ."
"Stop. Stop. I get it. No more." A wave of nausea crept across my stomach and up my throat. Someone stuck a needle in Mom. She hated needles. With a passion. "I don't understand what that has to do with her now."
I felt bad discussing Mom like she wasn't here. But then again . . . she wasn't.
I shut my eyes.
"In their lab class on blood panels, the students found several suspect compounds in your mother's blood sample." Justice flipped another page.
My eyes flew open. I tensed. "Like what?"
Andreas continued to rub my shoulder, pushing his fingers deeper. My muscles screamed. So did my heart.
"Potassium chloride, pancur . . . pancuronium bromide, and thio . . . thiopental sodium."
"What are they?" I wrinkled my forehead. Andreas squeezed a little too tight on my neck muscles.
I winced.
Justice raised an eyebrow. "I'm having a hard enough time trying to pronounce them. One paralyzes muscles, another has the ability to stop breathing, and the other could technically cause a cardiac arrest. The samples were compromised since it was, well . . . suffice it to say just a practice session. The lab would like to run additional tests to be more conclusive."
My head dropped into my hands. A whimper escaped my lips. I had followed Mom's wishes, and now I would never know what happened to her.
Fifi moved to my side, and wrapped both arms protectively around my shoulders, effectively dislodging Andreas from my neck for the second time today. "We can't help you, Detective."
Justice looked confused. "If it's a court order we need, I can get a judge to issue one."
"No . . . you don't understand. We can't help you." I spoke between soft sniffles, as I pointed across the room to the tall, oak bookshelf where recessed lighting pointed at a glass-enclosed case holding a small Ming vase.
Fifi glanced at the case, then at the floor. "Camille was cremated."
Justice stared at the vase for several seconds, closed his notebook, and returned it and the pen to his pocket. "I guess that closes this one. I'm sorry that I had to be the one who opened a painful chapter in your life again. Unless . . ."
I looked up. A tear escaped my swollen eye and rolled down my discolored cheekbone. "Unless what?"
He looked down and fidgeted with his hands. "There is a viable option. The DA wanted direct body tissue contact, so I'm not sure if they're willing to open an investigation on such slim evidence."
"What could they investigate?" Andreas laid his hand on my shoulder again.
"The crime scene, for one thing, but the chances of finding anything are slim to none after all this time. It's probably all been disturbed or discarded."
I shook my head. Braids slapped at my face. "No one . . . no one's been in Mom's apartment since she died." The words caught in my throat. "I couldn't bear—"
"This is preposterous." Andreas stepped between me and Justice once again.
I reached out to his sleeve. "It's all right."
His arm went rigid at my touch. "No, it's not. These people are causing you unnecessary pain. They need to let this go."
He was so sweet to be so protective of me. It felt good to have a champion for once.
"I assure you, Doctor, I mean no harm. I was just answering Ms. Templeton's question." Justice readjusted his relaxed posture into a more no-nonsense stance.
But what if Mom had been killed like Bakari? It made my insides feel strange to think that Mom might have been murdered over a stupid book. But how could I find out for sure? Shudder. Could I keep it under control if I found out someone had hurt Mom?
"Can't you see she's not okay? Camille is gone, and nothing will bring her back." Fifi glared at Justice.
"I have to agree." Andreas nodded. "This is an exercise in futility."
Justice trained his gaze on me. His voice lowered, softened. "What would you like me to do?"
I stared through Justice for several moments as my thoughts congealed into a solid mass. My hands came up to my face, rubbing away the tears. A shiver rippled down my arms, jerking my head slightly to the side.
What if . . . ?
I pulled my sight into focus and directly into Justice's eyes. "Tell me how my mom died."
Fifi bent down in front of me. "Sugah, are you sure this is what you want?"
I nodded and Fifi brushed the braids to expose my bruised eye. "Then we'll go through that apartment with a fine-toothed comb."
Justice held up a hand. "No! No one can enter that apartment but the forensics team, and that's only if this gets approved. Please, don't compromise evidence by disturbing anything."
Fifi flinched. "Okay, we'll stay away from the apartment."
"So, when can we expect this intrusion?" Andreas glared daggers at Justice.
I had never seen my man so angry. I was glad he didn't know the whole Trey situation. I called that one right. Still, his tone disturbed me, but I couldn't put my finger on the feeling it gave me.
Justice cleared his throat. "I'll have to talk to the DA, but maybe as soon as tomorrow."
I sniffed back a few more tears. This pulled hard on my emotions, regardless of how stoic I wanted to appear. But I was determined. This opportunity would not pass away.
Justice flinched at my last sniffle, almost as if embarrassed that he was causing me to weep. He turned to leave.
I rose and followed him to the front door.
I turned to face Justice as I opened the front door. "Do you really think there was any foul play involved in my mom's death?" The outside air, thick with moisture, invaded the air-conditioned space. The smell of rain drifted in with the heat, closer now.
"I don't know, but there are too many strange circumstances swirling around here lately . . . dead rats, stolen books, falling books . . ." Justice made a point of looking directly at my swollen eye.
Ashamed, I diverted my gaze. Why did I feel guilty that I'd lied to him? Because it was to him? Or because of the actual lie?
"Yes, a lot of strange things." The softness of his tone reached inside me and touched something long-ago turned off. My mouth went dry.
Justice tipped his head to get a better look into my downcast eyes. "Listen, I'm here if you need any help."
I nodded, afraid to make eye contact, afraid of what I might say.
A shadow passed across me, breaking the hold the sun had on my face.
I looked up.
He was gone.
I turned to the counter, where Andreas stood, staring.
/> I trudged toward the counter. Something didn't feel right. "Where'd Fifi go?"
"She went off to help a customer find a book about Impressionist art." He looked at his watch then shoved his hand into his slacks pocket. "I'd better get back to the clinic."
"Wait. What about the early dinner?"
"I just got a page." He glanced at his watch again with cell phone in hand.
"Okay . . . so will I see you later tonight?"
Andreas had already moved past me.
I spun to face him. "Andreas?"
"Yes, I'm sorry." He returned to kiss me softly. "I'll call you later tonight." He rushed out the front door.
35
I FIDDLED WITH THE SEARCH PARAMETERS AGAIN, TRYING TO FIND MORE information on the ever-present book, and the two professors who were interested in it. Guilt tugged at me for not doing any work out in the store. It was probably more from embarrassment, but I didn't want to advertise the condition of my face.
"Excuse me."
I flinched, and spun around to face the voice. One of the technicians from Broadview, the Brinks security team, stood at the counter looking sheepish.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am. But when we left earlier today, I forgot to give you the other set of keys." He held out two rings with two keys apiece.
I accepted the keys, and held up the rings to inspect them. "What are they for? You already left me two sets of keys."
"These are for the new front and back door locks and deadbolts on the second-floor apartment. I'm sorry. I left them in my toolbox when we finished up. I just noticed them when we got back to the garage."
"The second floor? That's my mom's apartment. Who told you to change the locks there?"
"That redheaded woman, Ma'am. She told us to change all the locks and that was one of the keys on the ring she gave us to work from."
I shook my head. "That didn't need to be changed. Mom's de . . . er, gone. But thanks anyhow." I tossed the rings to the rear of the desk. They clunked against the tray where I kept my phone and other keys.
A rumble of thunder.
The Brinks guy looked toward the front windows. "Looks like we're going to get a thunder boomer. We could use it. Maybe wash away some of this heat."
His declaration was punctuated by a slash of lightning, a sharp crack, and a sonic boom. The lights flickered. A soft rain slapped against the windows.
He tipped his hat. "Stay dry."
"You too." I smiled, then flinched as another flash of light and a loud clap pierced the air.
People gathered up their possessions, paid for their purchases, and scurried out to beat the deluge.
Fifi charged out of the stockroom and looked around at the empty store. "Man o'livin', Mother Nature is sure mad over somethin'! She was driving away our captive audience too. It's almost closin' time anyway. How about we call it a day, sugah?"
I scrolled through more data on the professors, but it was stuffI'd already found. "I might as well. I'm not getting anywhere here."
Fifi hopped onto the edge of the desk. "What're you tryin' to do?"
"I don't know." I banged on the keyboard in frustration. "I feel useless."
"I don't understand, sugah. Useless how? With the store?"
"No. With figuring out if Mom was murdered."
Fifi's face paled. "Sugah, your momma was a saintly woman who loved everyone and everyone loved her. I can't imagine a single soul who would have wanted to harm a dyed hair on her head."
"I would like to think that too, but we need to look at the facts. Mom wasn't old or decrepit. She was in great health—"
"Sugah, healthy people die every day."
"What about those e-mails? They started when Mom was alive. And we know for a fact that Bakari Ahmed was killed over the book."
"That was some foreigner in a foreign country where they have no respect for life. That could have been about somebody stealing his goats." Fifi's color returned.
My head snapped up. "I'm going to pretend that you didn't just say that."
"Why? It could be just as much the truth as anything else."
"What about the chemicals they found in Mom?"
"I dunno, sugah. I don't understand that either." Fifi shook her head. "We're just gonna have to wait and see."
"This is making me nuts." I ran my hands across my forehead. "One minute, I'm up and happy and feeling confident like I could do anything. The next minute, I'm a mess and thinking I'm so stupid that I can't even do an Internet search right."
"Sugah, maybe it's that time of the month."
My mouth dropped open. "That would be like adding insult to injury right about now."
Fifi tried to hide a giggle behind her hand. "I'm sorry."
"No, you're not. You meant that." I shook my head. Forget that time of the month. Maybe I was reading too much into this, and had to wait for the police to conduct the investigation. "We still haven't 'fessed up to grabbing Verlene's book."
"I say, let sleeping dogs lie for a few days."
"I agree. I think Griffen Justice knows I'm lying about my face being messed up."
"I think that man's taken a shine to you, sugah."
"What makes you say that?"
"Just the way he looks at you. And how his voice gets real soft when he talks to you. Don't think I haven't noticed." Fifi hopped off the desk. "And I think that boyfriend of yours has noticed too."
I raised my head and closed my eyes. "I was hoping that I was wrong about that."
"Well, I wouldn't leave those two alone in a room together."
Another lightning streak and thunder crack rolled through the store.
Fifi grabbed up her bag from under the counter. "Let's blow this pop stand."
"Sounds good to me." I slid the two new key rings to the edge of the desk and reached for my key ring and the other two sets. Only one set lay by the key tray. I moved the tray out of the way.
No keys.
Fifi watched. "What are you looking for?"
"The other set of new keys for my apartment. I threw them both here. Now there's only one." I added the new keys for my apartment and the keys for Mom's apartment to my ring.
"Maybe it slid behind the desk here." Fifi pulled on the corner of the desk but it didn't budge. "We'll move it tomorrow. I don't have time now. There's a hot date waitin' for me."
More thunder, and then the deluge of rain pounded against the front glass. We started for the front door.
"I bet I can guess who that's with," I said.
Fifi grinned. I opened the door. A blast of wind pushed a sheet of rain into the store. Fifi pushed the door shut. "Hold up. You can't go out in that without an umbrella."
"But I want to get wet. It's warm."
She looked at me all disgusted. "I don't care about you gettin' wet. I care about you gettin' your momma's gun wet." She tapped my pocket.
I had truly forgotten that it was there. I pulled it out. "I'll leave it here."
"Oh, no, you won't." Fifi tromped behind the counter and shuffled around in a pile of stuffin one of the counter cubbyholes. "We still have an undesirable element out there that you don't want to run into empty-handed."
"I'll get under your umbrella then."
"No . . . Here, use this." She shook open a Ziplock bag and shoved my gun and the nylon holster into it, expelled the extra air, and zipped it closed. "Shove that in your pocket and you're good to go. Just take it out of the bag when you get upstairs, so it doesn't collect moisture."
"Yes sir, er, uh, ma'am." I smirked and saluted.
We locked up and dashed out in the rain.
36
WE TIPTOED AROUND THE SIDE OF THE BUILDING, DODGING PUDDLES, THEN broke into a run. It seemed the faster we moved, the harder it rained. The downpour produced a thunderous roar. Fifi's beach umbrella was no match for the sheets of pelting rain that threatened to collapse it. All it did was slow down her progress to the safety of her car.
I didn't bother. The warm rain felt soothing on all my achy par
ts. It took about ten seconds for me to get soaked through to the skin, but I refused to run. It made me feel a little daring.
Fifi's hot little sports number swallowed her and the umbrella, and she beeped as she drove by. God bless her soul, she went slowly so as not to splash me with the gushing torrent running down the center of the driveway. In reality, though, I couldn't get any wetter.
I rounded the corner by the Dumpster. My hand grabbed onto the banister and I swung myself around to the steps. I stumbled back. A hunched-over body sat on the stairs with its head down and arms wrapped around knees that were pulled up tight against the chest. It didn't scare me as much as startle me, especially in this deluge. Yes, I was truly a different person from the one who skulked down these stairs a few days ago.
Rain pelted my scalp like little needles and poured down each of my braids. I leaned over, drawing the waterfall along with me as I reached out to touch the person's shoulder.
Nothing happened.
Don't tell me someone's left a body on my steps.
I blinked rapidly to ward offthe water running in my eyes. It was starting to sting. I touched the person again, and stepped back. The body didn't tumble over into a puddle, which was a definite plus, and it was warm, so I knew he or she was still alive. Another bonus.
The head rose slowly. Scraggly wet hair plastered tight to the face obscuring it. A hand reached up and pushed an opening in the sheet of hair.
My mouth dropped open, and water immediately rushed in. I spit it out and gasped, then coughed. "Barbara! What are you doing here?" I reached down and helped her to her feet. She staggered, clutching my arm to steady herself.
"I don't know."
"Where's your car?" A stream of water propelled off the ends of my swinging braids as I whipped my head around surveying the lot. Her car wasn't here.
"I-I don't know . . . uhm . . . I don't know. I think-k my husband took i-it."
Her husband? I've never seen her husband. I wouldn't even know how to contact anyone about her. What was I going to do? I couldn't leave her out here, alone. Her speech slurred as though she was drunk. I leaned in closer to shield her. I didn't smell alcohol.
Cooking the Books: A Sloane Templeton Novel (2012) Page 22
