I couldn’t take it back, but when I stared up at Neil, when all of our recent arguments over the past month came rushing back, I didn’t care and didn’t want to take it back.
“Go back to work,” I said again. “We’ll talk at home, behind locked doors.”
I was making him angry, and I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t know what had gotten into me lately. Neil and I had been at each other’s throats for weeks. I provoked him, or something he said got under my skin in ways it never did before.
Neil didn’t say another word. He turned while zipping up his coat and brushed by the other detectives in silence on his way out.
I took a breath. It was shaky. I was being cruel to the most important man in my life.
I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose as Lancaster left the woman with the medical supplies and walked toward me with a smile.
“Good news, Mr. Snow.”
“Oh boy.”
“It’s not human.”
Who, Neil?“The heart?”
“It’s a pig’s heart,” she replied.
“A minor relief.” I took another breath, working harder than necessary to calm myself. “So can I open for business?”
She spread her hands. “There’s been no foul play, although it seems like someone wanted to pull a prank on you. I highly suggest you invest in some tighter security.”
No foul play.My gut said otherwise. Two detectives—from homicide, no less—had shown up right away, and I played twenty questions regarding the unfortunate pig and Mike Rodriguez, the latter of which I found extremely strange. Why would time be wasted to send out detectives for something that proved to be nothing? And it still didn’t explain how the pig heart ended up in my shop to begin with.
Lancaster thanked me for my time, to which I muttered some pleasantry. She turned to leave with the medical examiner.
Winter, however, approached me. “Your friend seemed upset.”
I frowned while looking up. I was on the shorter side, only five foot nine, and both Neil and Winter stood a good half a foot taller. Neil was a leaner build, like myself, which was a stark contrast to the brick body that was Detective Winter. He was close enough again that I could study his freckles—which to me actually looked like gray blemishes. They’d be clearer if I invaded his personal space or looked at his skin with a magnifying glass.
Neither of those do I recommend doing to someone you’ve just met.
In comparison, his light-colored eyes were so brilliant and sharp, it was almost unnerving. They reminded me of minerals on display at the Museum of Natural History. They were gorgeous, but also maybe just a little weary. They looked like they’d seen something that had hardened and tired him considerably.
Winter swallowed up the air around me. He was both intimidating and somewhat comforting to be in the presence of. He smelled nice too. Some kind of spice—really different from Neil’s cologne.
“I didn’t break into Mike’s shop,” I said again. For the record.
His gaze shifted slightly to the boxes behind me. “What’s all this?”
I looked over my shoulder, then back at him. “New inventory.”
“From where?”
“Bond Antiques,” I retorted. “Jesus. It’s from an estate sale.”
He reached into his suit coat next, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he pulled his gun with the way I was shooting my mouth off. Instead, he handed me a business card. “Should you conveniently remember something.”
“Like slaughtering some pigs?” I shoved the card in my pocket.
“Have a good day, Mr. Snow.” He turned and walked out of the shop.
THE STORMseemed to have scared off the day’s foot traffic, which on any other afternoon would have worried me, being so close to the holidays when the sales are needed. But I couldn’t concentrate on anything business-related. My salad sat beside me at the register, half eaten and getting soggy as it settled into the pool of vinaigrette dressing. I held a magnifying glass to the mail as I read.
“Why not get bifocals?”
