“Wait. Aren’t green and red Christmas colors?”
Neil nodded and put the booties on my feet.
“Great. I dressed myself like a fucking elf and no one said anything.”
Neil chuckled. “It’s subtle. Don’t worry.”
I was able to get up after that. Neil instructed me to follow him through the alley. He brought me out to the sidewalk, where a plethora of official vehicles were now parked, and helped get my hands washed and cleaned of the now-dried blood.
“Snow!”
I turned around to see Quinn standing outside the alley. “Yeah?”
“Let’s go take a gander inside.”
“Thanks, Neil,” I said, holding my hands up and wiggling my clean fingers.
“Sure.”
I walked to Quinn. “I can open the front door if that’s easier.”
“No, no. We don’t want to contaminate the scene any more than necessary.” She nodded for me to follow behind, and we went back through the alley.
The medical examiner was standing inside the dumpster, talking to Calvin as we passed. I overheard her pronouncing the man to be “very dead,” and that it appeared to be “blood loss” from a wound to his neck. I slowed down as Calvin murmured a question about the instrument used in the homicide, but Quinn grabbed my arm and hauled me away before I could pick up any more of the conversation.
“So,” Quinn began as we approached the open door. “Can anyone confirm seeing you leave for the night?”
“Am I a suspect?”
“You know the routine by now.”
“My security cameras would show me leaving.”
“Do you have any cameras in the alley?” Quinn asked.
“No.” I paused just outside of the doorway. “Can we make the logical assumption that the break-in and homicide are related?”
“We can’t assume anything.”
“He sure as hell wasn’t in the dumpster when I closed up,” I stated. “My assistant takes out the trash—he’d have said something. Screamed is more likely—maybe even burned the building down.”
Quinn looked expectant.
“The alley was locked when I left. I got to the bank by 6:10 and made a deposit at the ATM, then bumped into Neil outside. We got back here around 6:20—maybe 6:25. You have to take into account that Mr. Dumpster looks to have had his throat cut. Do you know how much of a mess that makes?”
“Yes.”
“Er—okay, Quinn, it was a rhetorical question. The point is, I’d be covered in arterial spray. To top it off, I’m not strong enough to toss a full-grown man into a garbage bin that big. I eat too much candy and don’t lift nearly enough dumbbells.”
“Calvin really isn’t kidding when he calls you his Sherlock.”
I felt my face get a bit warm.
“You’re not a suspect,” she concluded. “Not even a rookie detective would think so.” She walked into the Emporium. “But,” Quinn called over her shoulder, “we need to figure out if your dumpster buddy was in here, looking to make a quick buck. And I sure as hell hope you can tell if something is actually missing, because this place is chaos.”
“It’sorganizedchaos,” I corrected. I examined everything as I moved through the store, in the one-in-a-million chance this was totally unrelated to the Kinetoscope. “It had to be more than one guy. He wouldn’t have cut his own throat.” I crouched to examine a few glass displays, but the contents were undisturbed.
“No honor among thieves,” Quinn murmured, moving toward the register. “What in the world isthis?”
