Lancaster looked up at Winter briefly before asking, “Why’s that?”
“I have a light sensitivity. If you turn the overheads off, I will,” I said while pointing up.
Winter turned away and gave an order to one of the uniformed officers. The lights died and the shop was once again illuminated by the strategically placed lamps.
“Better?” Lancaster asked, her tone not mocking or unkind.
I pulled the sunglasses back to rest on my head as I put my regular glasses back on. “Thank you,” I said briskly.
“That’s called photophobia, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I have achromatopsia.”
“I see.” She didn’t bother for more details. “Has anything out of the ordinary happened in the past few weeks?”
“Nope.”
Lancaster frowned. “Who found the body part?”
“I did, when I came in. I smelled something awful and started looking for it.”
“Have there been any break-ins or stolen items?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “What’s this about? I’m assuming something bigger is at play here, otherwise you two wouldn’t be grilling me.”
“Why do you say that?” Lancaster asked.
“I live with a cop” was what I wanted to say. Four years of stories from Neil had, admittedly, given me an unhealthy interest inwhodunitmysteries.
Instead, I just shrugged.
Winter spoke for the first time. “Do you know Bond Antiques?”
“Yeah, on Bond Street and Lafayette,” I confirmed.
“How is your relationship with the owner?”
“I fail to see what that has to do with anything,” I responded. “Mike Rodriguez and I have known each other for a while.”
“How do you get along?” Winter asked.
“He’s competition,” I stated. “What’s going on?”
“Sebastian!” called a familiar voice.
Ignoring the towering mountain that was Detective Winter, I looked around him to see Neil walking through the shop, shaking snow from his coat. I was immediately both happy and frustrated to see him, which didn’t seem like the right response. I hadn’t called to tell him what happened, so there should have been no reason for his appearance.
I turned to the counter. Max raised his hands up defensively and shook his head.
“What’s going on?” Neil asked upon reaching us. He looked at the two other detectives and removed a badge from inside his coat. “Detective Millett, CSU.”
Lancaster didn’t seem interested. “Detective Lancaster, homicide,” she replied with a nod. “My partner, Winter. We haven’t requested forensics yet.”
“Homicide?” I echoed. I mean, sure, I guess technically a heart without a body could mean something more sinister was at work besides a medical cadaver showing up to class and some poor student flunking when he had no heart to dissect.
I looked at Neil. He seemed concerned and maybe nervous, and for a minute, I was happy because he was worried about me. The annoyance I had been harboring toward him all morning suddenly washed away, and I had the urge to reach out for a hug.
“Sebastian is—a friend,” Neil said.
