I shut the freezer door. “Hey, that’s public information.”
“The hell it is.”
“It’s on NYPD’s crime map, pal,” I retorted.
Calvin stepped into the kitchen. “What are you doing getting yourself involved in this?”
“Someone killed Mike—”
“And that’s for the police to investigate,” he said sternly. “Not an antique dealer.”
“But they’re related, aren’t they? Both murders and my prank.” I moved forward to meet him. “I could see it, when I mentioned Poe. It got your attention.”
Calvin crossed his arms and didn’t respond.
“A woman above a sushi joint was murdered…,” I started.
“I know that.”
“Something was written in blood—”
“Where the hell did you hear that?” he retorted, voice low and dangerous.
“People talk,” I answered quickly. “Maybe they find blind guys endearing and harmless and want to spill their secrets.”
“Who did you talk to, Sebastian?”
“I went to the sushi bar. The chefs told me.”
Calvin pushed his coat back to rest his hands on his hips, likely counting to ten to keep from killing me.
“What was written?” I dared to ask.
He shook his head.
I didn’t expect him to share that ever so curious piece of information. Really. “Want a beer?”
“I’m on the clock.”
“Water? Coffee?”
“No.”
I looked back. “Well, you don’t seem to be in a rush to leave. I know my personality is addictive but—”
“‘She shall press, ah, nevermore.’”
I paused, considered the response, then asked, “Excuse me?”
“That’s what was written,” Calvin clarified, his voice quiet, as if he didn’t want his partner or superiors hearing the confession of information.
“Nevermore. That’s from ‘The Raven,’” I said.
He nodded. “I know.”
“So this is connected!” I exclaimed, feeling unreasonably triumphant despite there having already been two murders.
Calvin waved at me in an annoyed fashion. “Be quiet.”
