“I can honestly say I’m disappointed,” Quinn answered.
“Sorry.”
Quinn turned her attention to the back door as voices drifted into the shop from the alley. She walked down the steps and made her way through the aisles.
Calvin put a hand on my shoulder. “Where did you put the remaining footage?”
I leaned into the office and turned the low-intensity lamp on. The computer was still there and assembled, although the monitor had been knocked over. Junk from the desk drawers was strewn all over the place, and the fridge door was open—like, yeah, Itotallyhid the film behind a few cans of ginger ale and Max’s tuna sandwich from the other day. I looked up at the overhead shelves—also a mess—and reached forward.
Calvin stopped me from touching anything. He took a latex glove from his back pocket and held it out. “Put this on.”
“Please tell me you aren’t always carrying these around in your jeans.”
“Funny.”
I tried to smile, but I just wasn’t feeling it. I snapped the glove on and moved a few books from the shelf. I knocked a jar with the spine of one, which in turn rained down a collection of pens and markers on my head. I sighed, ignored the new mess, and stood on my toes to reach for the very back.
The canister was still there.
I held it up and turned to Calvin. “A small miracle.”
“They must have hoped it was still in the Kinetoscope,” Calvin said.
“Ran out of time searching for it?”
He nodded. “It’s a well-thought-out entrance turned messy. I would go so far as to say whoever was in here hadn’t considered the possibility that the film could be elsewhere. They didn’t know where to look, and the clock was ticking once the alarm went off.”
I peeled the glove free and stuffed it into a pocket. “Quinn says I’m not a suspect for the murder.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“Since I’m on camera leaving here, and at the bank.”
“And you’ve got an officer vouching for you,” Calvin concluded.
“Who we may or may not have suspected of being a killer in the recent past,” I added.
Calvin’s posture changed a bit. Self-conscious. “Millett is a good detective. That’s the truth.”
“You’re not mad, are you?”
“To find you at another crime scene?”
“No—well, yes, but—talking to Neil.”
Calvin leaned back briefly, checking to confirm the shop was empty, then reached out to cup my jaw in one large hand. “No. He nearly took a bullet for you.” He stroked my face for a moment before lowering his hand. “Millett and I have reached an understanding. And I don’t want to be the sort of man who’s insecure over you having a conversation with an ex.”
“Okay.”
“All that concerns me is that he shows you respect. If not, thenhe and Iwill have an issue—not you.”
“He was polite,” I confirmed.
“Good.”
Quinn returned inside just then, with Neil in tow. They were making their way toward us.
“I didn’t think my shop was going to be the scene of a murder,” I said, changing the subject. “AndI even stayed in the alley, which was thesafe placeat the time.”
