Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
“There’s a body in the alley!”
The entire bakery gasped. Someone’s coffee cup went down too hard. A woman by the window stood up halfway and then didn’t seem to know what to do next. From the kitchen came the sound of a muffin tin hitting the floor, and then Cassie’s face appeared in the swinging door, eyes wide.
Lexy was around the counter before the bell stopped swinging. “Show me.”
The alley behind The Cup and Cake ran between the backs of the Main Street buildings, wide enough for deliveries, mostly unremarkable.
What was currently remarkable was Everett Pike, face-down on the pavement, his blueberry muffin squished flat beside his outstretched hand.
Muffin crumbs were scattered across the pavement in a wide cheerful arc that had no idea how inappropriate it was.
A single blueberry had rolled a good four feet and was resting against the base of the wall, apparently unharmed.
Lexy crouched and looked without touching.
The newspaper wrapping was shredded under him.
His yard sale bag was nearby. Lexy peeked inside: chrome cocktail shaker, fish ashtray.
A silver class ring. A set of salt and pepper shakers painted as a matching couple in 1950s swimsuits.
No cat. She looked at the back of Everett’s head.
He’d been hit with something sharp and hard.
“Call 911,” she told the delivery driver.
He pulled out his phone with the speed of a man very grateful to have something specific to do.
Detective Jack Perillo, Lexy’s husband, arrived in eight minutes, coat half-buttoned, already wearing his crime face — not shocked, not emotional, just fully focused in a way that closed everything else off.
He looked at Everett. He looked at Lexy. “You found him?”
“Delivery driver found him. He’s right there.”
Jack crouched. Looked without touching. Stood. “Go back in, Lexy.”
“I’m good here.”
Jack opened his mouth. Then he glanced over Lexy’s shoulder, his eyes narrowing.
Cutting through the crowd at the alley entrance with the combined momentum of four women who had spotted something happening and were absolutely not going to stand in a hat shop while it happened, came Nans, Ruth, Helen, and Ida.
Jack looked at the sky briefly. “Of course,” he said, to no one.
Ida arrived at the alley entrance just as a breeze rolled the escaped blueberry to a stop against her shoe. She looked down at it. She looked at what remained of the muffin. She pressed her lips together.
“What a waste of a muffin,” she said.
Nans was already scanning the scene with quiet efficiency — Everett, the spilled bag, the shredded newspaper, the back of his head. She said nothing for a moment. Then: “He was hit.”
“Nans,” Jack said, from behind the police tape that had appeared with impressive speed. “Don’t.”
“I’m not doing anything. I’m standing here.” A pause. “His bag is still there with things in it.” Another pause. “But it looks like something is missing.”
Jack looked at the bag. He looked at Nans. He had the expression of a man annoyed at being one step behind someone’s grandmother.
Ruth already had her iPad out. Forty-five seconds of focused tapping. She turned the screen toward Jack.
“He had this in the bakery. Porcelain cat, blue and white, mid-century, welcoming pose. Bronze base, ornate mount.” She scrolled.
“If the base is original and the mounting hardware dates to the right period, pieces like this can be worth a fortune. Auction records show comparable pieces going anywhere from eight thousand to considerably more.” She looked up. “Quite a profit on a yard sale item.”
Ida looked at the fish ashtray and the grinning swimsuit salt shakers. “So they left all of that and only took the cat.”
“Whoever hit him knew exactly what they were after,” Nans said.
Jack wrote something in his notebook. He did not thank Nans. He also didn’t tell her she was wrong, which everyone present understood to be the same thing.
He looked at the four of them — Nans, calm as a Sunday morning; Ruth, already back on her iPad; Helen, studying the spilled bag with quiet interest; Ida, who was eyeing the alley exit like she was calculating something.
“Ladies,” he said. “Promise me you won’t get in the middle of my investigation.”
A pause just long enough to be meaningful.
“Of course, Jack,” Nans said.
Helen smiled pleasantly. Ruth didn’t look up.
“We should probably go inside and get some snacks,” Ida said. “It’s going to be a busy afternoon.”