Page 33 of A Seer and Present Danger

“Obviously you’ve never worked an antique store. Lots of shady characters have tried to pull a fast one on me.”

“You think he was like that? Shady?” I looked around for the napkin holder.

Aggie had already found it on the other table and handed it to me. “They’re all the same. I bet that police officer was on the take, too, and the deal got out of hand.”

“No. Jean wouldn’t do that.”

“How do you know? What do you know? What did you see out there?”

“I saw a dead man, and that’s it.”

Shelly was working swing, too, and must have noticed us talking in lowered voices. She hustled over.

“Are we talking about the dead guy?”

“We’re about to,” Aggie said. “Piper was there when the police came—or before they came since Buzz said you called them. So, spill. What happened? What did you see?”

“Was it gruesome?” Shelly asked breathlessly. “A lot of blood?”

“It was sad,” I said. “He was lying face down with a knife wound in his back. He was dead.”

Aggie was quiet, but Shelly nodded. “Knife wound means there was lots and lots of blood. Did you secure the scene?”

“What?”

“I love crime shows! Did you walk the perimeter, take pictures? Did you look for shoe tracks or fragments of cloth?”

“No!” I laughed. “I called the police.”

“Did he have anything on him?” Aggie asked. “A bag or, I don’t know, a briefcase or something in his pockets? He stole things. He could have been loaded.”

“Yeah,” Shelly said. “Did you pat him down?”

“What is up with you two today?” I waved my finger at them. “I was sad and afraid. I called the police. I didn’t go through his pockets, I didn’t pull out a fingerprint dusting kit—that I don’t own—to look for prints. I didn’t take any pictures. Sorry to disappoint, ladies. All I did was call in the experts.”

Shelly fiddled with the pencils in her apron and shook her head. “That’s okay, Piper. Next time someone is murdered out back, you can take pictures or record the scene on your phone. Wait! Even better! Next time, call me. I don’t live that far away. I could be here so fast, and I’ll bring my fingerprint kit.”

“No next times,” I warned with a smile. “One murder is more than enough, thank you.”

“A kitchen knife to the spine points to a personal connection with the killer, doesn’t it?” Aggie asked.

Apparently, they were not ready to let this go.

“Yes!” Shelly rocked up on her feet. “It does. The killer would have had to get in close. The victim—what was his name?”

“Hugo,” I said.

“Hugo might even have known the person who killed him and been comfortable turning his back on him.”

“A deal gone bad,” Aggie said smugly. “Are you sure the cop wasn’t on the take?”

“She was not.”

“Was the wound high or low in his back?” Shelly had a notepad in her hand now, a was making a bullet list. “We might be able to guess the height of the killer by where he stuck him.”

“Now you have to tell us all the details,” Aggie said. “Where was the wound, Piper?”

There was an edge to her words. She wasn’t just teasing, she was goading me, challenging me to tell her what I’d seen when I’d already said all I had to say.