“Looks empty,” I called.
“I see you’re not listening again,” Neil answered from within. He strode across the shop to the front door, and after a beat, asked, “Did you change the code for the alarm?”
“You mean, after a vigilante bypassed the system to woo me with the remnants of Barnum’s lost museum?”
“Just tell me the new code.”
“One, one, four, two.”
The alarm silenced, and then Neil turned on a nearby bank lamp. “What’s it mean?” he called.
“Hmm?”
“I know you pick numbers that have a meaning so you remember them easier.”
“Since when?”
“Since your debit card pin number is your dad’s birth year.”
“I’ll be sure to change it now, thanks.”
Another light was turned on as Neil moved around the Emporium, still holding his gun out. “What’s the new code mean?”
“I’m a sentimental shithead.”
He paused in one of the congested walkways and looked toward me.
“Can I come in or not?” I asked impatiently.
“Wait.”
I rolled my eyes and stepped back from the doorway. I leaned against the exterior bricks and glanced at the dumpster again. The heavy plastic top was open and propped against the wall. Beth and I were sticklers about keeping the lid closed. The last thing anyone wanted was a shop smelling like garbage. And Max should have known better after taking the trash out for the night.
I walked back to the dumpster, grabbed on to the edge, put my foot into a small niche, and hoisted myself up in order to reach the lid.
Inside was a dead man.
Chapter Six
ALL RIGHT.
I wasn’t unaccustomed to finding dead bodies.
Man-in-Dumpster marked lucky #5 on my list. And let’s not forget, there was once a pig heart stuffed into the floorboards of the Emporium. So this was more like body #5.5, in my opinion.
But still. I had been expecting to see packing peanuts and office trash bags full of coffee grounds and take-out containers. Not a corpse nestled among the debris. And Guy’s face was one of shock and horror—eyes wide and mouth hanging open, like he was just as surprised as me tobedead. His neck and chest were covered in something dark that at this point I had to simply assume was blood.
I panicked, grabbed to steady myself, touched something wet and slick, screamed, and fell off the side of the dumpster. “Ouch…fuck….” I slowly sat up as pain shot from my tailbone all the way up my spine.
“Seb?” Neil called from behind me. I could hear the pounding of his steps on the cement as he ran to join me.
I looked up. “This is blood, isn’t it?” I asked, raising my hands for Neil to see.
I’m pretty sure it was cop instinct that made Neil immediately turn to the dumpster. He stepped toward it, taking a moment to study the ground. There must have been blood I hadn’t seen and walked right through. Neil held his pistol at low ready as he leaned close enough to peer over the top of the dumpster.
He looked at me again.
“I was just trying to close the lid so the alley didn’t smell like leftover spicy tuna rolls,” I protested.
