My mind was racing.
This wasn’t possible. Not even close.
Pop had saidTamerlanewould be worth a pretty penny. Neil was dating an antique dealer. It would have been possible for him to realize that. He knew all about the estate sale and the banker, Merriam Byers. He had been disinterested in the pig-heart fiasco and insistent to not go to Mike’s shop the day I found him dead. What if his anger toward me when I told Calvin he was gay wasn’t because of his sexuality, but because I unknowingly had the cops shine their flashlights on him? And the threats? As easy as dropping it into a mailbox. Neil was a forensic cop—he knew how to cover tracks, what would be looked for.
I swear to God my heart stopped beating for a minute.
I must have gone white, because Calvin was on his feet and offering me a glass of water, his warm, heavy hand on my shoulder like an anchor.
“Drink,” he insisted, exchanging the glass for my beer.
I drank the entire cup. “Evidence can be twisted to look like a lot of things,” I said after a moment.
Calvin’s hand moved down my back, rubbing gentle circles. He had to have thought of everything I did, otherwise he wouldn’t logically suspect my ex-boyfriend of homicide. “Has Neil ever been violent toward you?”
“No!” I winced when I remembered being shoved into the doorframe during our fight.
“Strange behavior?”
I gripped the glass so hard in my hands, I was afraid it’d shatter. “No. I mean, his hours are weird sometimes, but you know what that’s like. You’re both cops. Cal, please, he didn’t fucking do this.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
I stood, looking up at Calvin. “It’s my turn to tell you what I think.”
He looked surprised and was about to speak when his cell rang. Calvin answered it, saying, “Be right down,” before hanging up. “Pizza guy. I’ll be right back.” His hand lingered a fraction too long before he was out the door.
I immediately walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I felt lightheaded and a little sick. I sat on the lid of the toilet, holding my head and taking long, deep breaths. I could see why Calvin was humoring me as to where the evidence was leading him—after all, it was his job to collect it and arrest the person most suspected. It wasn’t up to him whether they were guilty or innocent; that was for lawyers and courts.
Regardless, that did not make me feel better. Despite telling myself,knowingNeil was incapable of such gruesome acts, I could not explain how the person got into my shop and my home.
“Sebastian?” Calvin called as he stepped back into the apartment.
I stood and exited the bathroom.
He set the box on the counter and walked close. He had a worried expression on his face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, offering a smile that I’m sure was hardly convincing.
Calvin put a hand around my neck, squeezed the back lightly, and massaged the muscles. “Do you still want to eat?”
“Murder can’t keep me from pizza.”
Calvin didn’t smile. He gently pushed me back to the stool before grabbing plates from a cupboard and putting a huge New York slice on each. “So what is it that you think?” he asked, and I could hear reluctance in his tone. He gave me a plate, sat, and devoured his slice in I swear less than three bites.
“Still waiting,” he said, standing to fetch another slice.
“Greg Thompson,” I finally spoke up before taking a bite of pizza.
Calvin turned around, already working on his second piece as he sat. Had he not eaten all day? “What about him?” he asked with a full mouth.
Manners. Good grief.
“He’s shady,” I answered. “He makes me uncomfortable.”
“I thought you hadn’t seen him since the beginning of the year.”
“He was around this afternoon, when I returned to the Emporium.” I explained that Max had closed up and been hiding out with Beth once his nerves got the best of him. I told Calvin how Greg, surprisingly, was also at Good Books when I stopped by.
