Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Apparently being a murder suspect was bad for business.
There were plenty of people walking by the shop. Slowing down to glance in the window. Lean in to whisper to one another while glaring at Natalie.
But as far as the number of customers who actually came inside the store, those were few and far between. And the ones who made a purchase, even fewer.
“I’m going to have to dust the cash register at this rate,” Natalie said with a sigh after locking the front door and heading back to find Liam in her apartment.
She hadn’t even bothered to empty the drawer of that day’s cash. It was so little, it wasn’t worth counting it and reconciling the sales. She’d just add it to the next day’s—not that she predicted tomorrow to be much better.
Liam glanced up. “Slow day?”
She let out a snort and headed for the open bottle of wine on the counter. “You could say that. I guess cops in the shop didn’t instill consumer confidence.”
“It’ll get better once the next bit of gossip gets their attention.”
“Easy for you to say. Your customers are dead.” She raised the wine glass to her lips.
“I wouldn’t call the cadavers customers—”
She lowered the glass again and shot Liam a glare. “Just let me have this one, okay?”
His lips twitched with a smile. “Okay.”
After a swallow of the Malbec burned down her throat she plunked the glass back down on the counter and spun to face Liam. “What if the New Haven police refuse to let this go?”
“They will,” he said as his cell rang.
Standing, he pulled it out of his pocket. His expression changed as he read the display before answering the call.
“Doctor Walsh speaking… Yes… No, I understand. That’s fine. I’ll see you then.”
There was no anticipation as great as that of waiting to hear about the other side of a conversation she’d heard only half of.
She should probably be more empathetic toward Liam since this was his experience when she spoke to the ghosts.
That reasoning didn’t make her any less impatient to hear who he’d been talking to.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“The coroner’s office. The van is on the way here to get Graves. I’m meeting them at the lab in twenty minutes.”
“It’s already after six,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, they got delayed but they didn’t want to wait until the morning. The New Haven PD is pushing them to get this autopsy done.”
“See. I told you. They’ll never let it go.” She reached for the glass again, found it nearly empty, and refilled it from the also almost empty bottle. Good thing there was plenty more on the shelves out in the shop. It wasn’t like anyone was buying it.
Liam shook his head. “Let them spin their wheels investigating. You’re innocent. So am I.”
She imagined the police department flipping every rock they could find looking for evidence to convict her. Interviewing everyone who’d been in Salem with her.
“Liam, all the attendees from that conference are going to tell the police how mad I was at Lionel after that panel.”
“And the police will also hear that all the attendees saw Graves alive and well after that panel as well as the following morning at the breakfast buffet you told me you and Harper skipped.”
“I don’t even know if Lionel attended the breakfast.”
Liam grunted out a short laugh. “Just from what you’ve told me about him, I’m guessing the man doesn’t willingly miss any opportunity to have fans fawn over him. Or a free meal.”
“You’re probably not wrong. I could ask him, but where even is Lionel? He’ll be gone soon.” She wouldn’t be able to ask him anything once they took him to Morris.
“Then you’ll ask him later. Remember, he’ll be back when the coroner is done and returns the body.”
She cringed that this was the kind of conversations she had with the man she loved. That’s what she got for dating a doctor who ran a cadaver lab. It’s also what she got for being a person of interest in a murder.
Speaking of bodies and her being a suspect…
“I can only hope the coroner will return him to us. We don’t know that, do we? The New Haven Police could come up with another excuse to keep him.”
“Then we can drive to Morris for a visit if you really want to talk to Graves. Or to New Haven or Albany or wherever else he might end up,” Liam suggested with a shrug.
“Thank you. That’s a good idea. Let’s see how it goes.”
She imagined asking the coroner’s office permission to visit the corpse. She wasn’t sure that would go well. Though getting caught by the Morris police while sneaking around their town hunting for Lionel’s ghost wouldn’t be much better. She probably had a police file now.
Natalie stood and moved to where Liam sat in the wooden chair at her tiny kitchen table. They were almost eye level with him sitting and her standing.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry dating me is so weird.”
He pulled her closer with a hand on each of her hips and a dimple-revealing smile on his lips. “Baby, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She leaned in until her lips touched his.
Taking full advantage, he hauled her tighter against him with a groan.
Natalie pulled back. “We only have twenty minutes.”
He tipped his head to one side, mischief in his eyes. “You know I can work with that.”
She was tempted when her cell phone rang.
Liam leaned back with a sigh. “Go on. Get it.”
She glanced longingly at the cell, face down on the table. “I don’t have to.”
“Yes, you do. Answer. It’s okay.”
“If you’re sure—”
He cocked up a brow. “Natalie…”
“Okay. I’ll just peek at who it is…” She barely completed the thought when she saw the screen and her eyes widened. “It’s Lionel’s publisher.”
“Then you’d better get it.”
“Oh no.” She laid the cell down, ever so gently, like any motion might spontaneously connect the call.
He frowned. “Why not?”
“What if they heard I’m a murder suspect and they’re calling to cancel the book? Besides that, they talked to Harper when she was pretending to be me. I can’t answer.” She shook her head and stared at the phone like it was a bomb that could go off at any moment. “They can just leave a message.”
It felt like an eternity but finally the alert for a new voicemail sounded. Still, she hesitated.
“There’s your voicemail,” Liam said. “Aren’t you going to listen?”
She raised her gaze to his. “I’ve accidentally called someone back before when I was trying to listen to the voicemail.”
Liam rolled his eyes. “Give me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Play the voicemail.”
“What if you accidentally call them back?”
“First of all, that has never happened to me. Second, I’ve performed precision procedures, Nat. My hands are rock steady.”
“Surgery on live people?”
“Yes, on live people. I was a medic. I saved soldiers’ lives. Why is that so hard for you to remember?”
“I don’t know. Possibly it’s all the dead body parts strewn around your lab?” she answered.
“They aren’t strewn—just give me the phone.” He scowled.
Reluctantly she handed him the phone. Though she held her breath until she heard the recorded voicemail start to play after Liam placed the cell on speakerphone.
“Miss Chase, this is Rhonda from Mr. Turning’s office. He asked me to call you—”
“Uh oh.” Here it was. The big heave ho.
“Stop. Just listen,” Liam said.
“We have a rather odd request for you. Lionel Graves’s landlady called from New Haven.
His rent was paid through the end of this month, but now she’d like to clear out the contents of his apartment so she can rent it again.
There were provisions in his will for his rare book collection and a few historical objects, antiques he collected.
But as for the rest—his personal effects, clothing, electronics, and the like—she’s at a loss.
Mr. Turning thought since you’re working on completing his project, and you and Lionel were writing partners and all, that maybe you’d have some use for some of his things.
And if so, if you wouldn’t mind going through everything, sorting it and packing it up.
If not, we completely understand. It’s a large undertaking but I’m afraid you’re our last hope.
We just don’t have the manpower and Mr. Turning didn’t want to tell the landlady to just dispose of it all.
If you could get back to me, I can provide the address and inform the landlady when you’ll be by so she can let you inside. ”
The message ended and Natalie tried to wrap her head around the ramifications of what she’d just heard.
Lionel’s apartment could yield a treasure trove of information.
For the book. For the Mudville article. For her inappropriate curiosity to paw through other people’s stuff.
Hell, it might even hold a clue to prove he had died of natural causes so both he and the police would get off her back about this non-existent murder case.
Of course, it could also be a hoarder’s paradise. She didn’t know enough about the man to predict what awaited there for her, but she knew she wanted to find out.
She finally raised her gaze to meet Liam’s.
“Well?” he asked.
“You up for a road trip to New Haven tomorrow?”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”