Chapter 9 #3
There was a muffled rattling of a chain lock, and then the door opened a crack.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mr. Harlow.” Amie spoke in a low voice so as not to wake any neighbors. “I’m Amie Teller. I live in the apartment below you? I heard a loud noise, so—”
“Sorry for waking you.” Andrew still hadn’t opened the door any wider. “It won’t happen again.”
“Oh, it’s okay,” Amie assured him. “I wasn’t asleep. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. It sounded like someone fell.”
There was a pause, and then the door opened wider. Andrew’s white hair was mussed, and the corners of his eyes drooped as he scrutinized Amie. He too was wearing a robe, dark red with white vertical stripes.
“That’s kind of you to check on me,” he said.
Amie hadn’t even noticed the edge of caution that had been present in his tone until it disappeared.
“I did fall, but I’m fine.” He hesitated.
“Were you having trouble sleeping as well? Or are you one of those young people who stays up through the night?”
Amie smiled. “Trouble sleeping,” she said. “Just thinking too much.”
Andrew nodded. “Me too.” He pulled the door open even wider. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
In all honesty, Amie really wasn’t interested in a third cup of tea. But something in her couldn’t say no to the recent widower who seemed like he wanted some company. She stepped inside.
The apartment was dark, but Andrew flipped on the hallway light as the door shut.
“Watch out for that trip wire,” he warned at the end of the hall. He pointed to a nearly invisible wire close to the floor. “Just step over it.”
Amie silently followed his instructions. She gave the wire an inquisitive backward look as she trailed behind the older man as he made his way to the kitchen. The electric kettle on the countertop was already making noises as Andrew turned on another light.
Before Amie could question Andrew’s archaic security system, he spoke:
“I saw you at the bookshop today.” He gestured for Amie to take a seat. “I knew you looked familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Oh, sorry for the mess.”
The man began tidying a pile of papers and other miscellaneous items that were spread on the table, putting them in a cardboard box that sat on one of the chairs. “I got some of my wife’s things from the store. Started to go through them, then … needed a break.”
Amie handed him a business card that had fluttered off the top of the pile. “I’m so sorry about your wife.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “She was …”
Why did I start that sentence? she wondered, panicking slightly.
“Thank you,” Andrew said, rescuing Amie from having to come up with a nice thing to say about his dead wife. “It was very nice of you to come.”
As Amie watched him open a cabinet, she thought back to the fury in his face as he ordered Madeline out of the bookshop. That man was almost unrecognizable now as he withdrew two mugs from the cabinet, placing them down on the counter with a soft clink.
“I actually, um …” She steeled herself, working hard to override the part of her brain that was ordering her not to pry into other people’s business. “I saw you, at the memorial, yell … er, speaking to Madeline. The owner of Eons?”
“You heard that?” Andrew looked shamefaced. “I was trying not to ruin the memorial by making a dramatic scene, but I think I lost my temper a little bit.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Amie assured him, her people-pleasing tendencies automatically kicking in. “Honestly, it was the most calm I’ve ever seen someone be while losing their temper.”
Andrew chuckled at that, opening a different cabinet. “Chamomile okay?”
“Yes, thank you.” Amie was still reluctant to pry, but she could almost hear Ziya in the back of her head, pushing her to take advantage of the situation. “Can I ask what Madeline did?”
Andrew dropped the tea bags into the mugs, then moved to the other side of the table. He sat down with a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair.
“She hasn’t done anything, as far as I know for sure,” he admitted.
“She’s been wanting to buy the store from Savannah for a long time now.
Says she wants to turn it into an extension of her café.
” His jaw tightened. “When I saw her, it just … it made me realize that she’s likely happy to have a chance now.
Maybe it was petty of me, but I just didn’t want her to feel hopeful.
I’m not sure I can look at her again without getting angry, knowing she thinks she might benefit from my wife’s death. ”
“That’s understandable,” Amie said gently. “Savannah didn’t want to sell the store?”
“No,” Andrew said, shaking his head. “God rest her soul, she was determined to keep that bookshop running, even when the costs were getting far higher than the profit. I tried to talk her into selling. Tried anything I could think of. But Savannah wouldn’t budge.”
Amie studied the man as her mind drifted back to the time loop.
Some afternoons, before she’d go to the park to “find” Hallie’s ring, Amie would sit in Eons and nurse a tea while doing a crossword puzzle on her phone.
On numerous occasions she’d seen Andrew interact with the barista in a way that made her assume the café was out of whatever he’d been hoping to order.
It was the sort of interaction that one would forget five minutes after seeing it, unless one saw it again and again and again.
Amie herself never thought much of it, even after seeing it again and again and again.
But with Savannah dead, and Andrew and Madeline’s shared desire for Savannah to sell the store made clear …
“Did you ever speak with Madeline about her wanting to buy the bookstore?” Amie asked. “Behind … er, separate from Savannah?”
Andrew hesitated, a muscle in his forehead twitching.
“I … did,” he finally said, sounding ashamed. “That’s how I know how much she really wanted the store. Savannah wouldn’t listen to my advice, but I’d talk with Madeline and encourage her to keep trying. Suggest ways she could possibly convince Savannah to sell.”
“When was the last time you talked to Madeline about that?”
“Hm. A few weeks ago? I went to talk to her on Monday, just to check in, but she wasn’t at the café.”
Amie resisted a smile of self-satisfaction as her hunch was confirmed. Andrew hadn’t gone to Eons on Monday to buy something. He’d been looking for Madeline.
The widower’s eyes had gone dark as he gazed at a spot on the table in front of him. “Maybe that made me a bad husband, going behind Savannah’s back like that. I don’t know.”
“I’m sure you were doing it in her best interest,” Amie said reassuringly.
“It was in our best interest, I thought,” Andrew said. “It wasn’t just about the money. The store was her whole life. It took up so much of her time. She’d never accept my offers to help; it was her business. She’d come home every night too tired to even have a conversation.”
He looked up at Amie, frowning. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about her like this.”
“It’s okay,” Amie said. “It’s clear you loved her very much. I’m sure she didn’t want to make you unhappy.”
“She didn’t,” he agreed, standing as the kettle let out a loud click to signal the completion of its job.
“We figured out some compromises. Coming home by seven was one of them; she used to stay at the store even later before we agreed on that. She’d also agreed to not work on Sundays, let go of a few part-time employees, and feature more bestsellers in the window.
” He chuckled sadly as he poured hot water into the mugs.
“She disliked modern romance books but couldn’t deny that they sold the best.”
Amie was slowly distilling everything he’d just said. “Did she come home at seven on Monday?”
The small smile on his face faded, and Amie squeezed her lips tightly together to prevent herself from adding, “I’m sorry! You don’t have to answer that! Ignore me!”
“Yes and no,” Andrew said. “It’s very strange.”
He turned toward the living room, eyes unfocused as he returned to the memory.
“I was reading by the window. It was seven—I’d checked the clock just before looking out the window.
I saw her walking up the steps of the building, so I went to set the table for dinner.
When she didn’t come in, I assumed she’d forgotten something at the store and went back.
I ate without her, figuring she’d eat whenever she got home.
But she never …” He stopped, clearing his throat.
The circles under his eyes seemed to grow deeper.
“I fell asleep waiting for her to come home,” he said. “And in the morning …”
“I’m sorry,” Amie cut in, not wanting him to feel pressured to say any more. She already knew what came next. She instead moved backward through his story. “Do you know why she might’ve gone back to the store?”
Andrew picked up the mugs, depositing one in front of Amie before sitting back down with his. “I just assumed she’d forgotten to do something and went back. I think the police are leaning toward the theory that she surprised a thief mid-robbery.”
This was news to Amie. “Were there any signs of a break-in?” she asked, remembering Grayson saying he hadn’t seen any.
“No,” Andrew said in a tone that indicated he was doubtful of the robbery theory. “But if she forgot to lock up, that might have been why she went back.”
“Do you think that’s what happened?”
A half-hearted shrug. “She hasn’t done it before, to my knowledge,” he said.
“But her manager, Raina, left the store a little before her. She said Savannah seemed distracted; bothered about something. If that was the case, I suppose it’s believable that she’d forget to lock the doors. Or the back door, at least.”
“But do you think that’s what happened?” Amie pressed gently.