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“If you could only keep one…”
“Set or book?”
“Set.”
She grinned and shook her head. “Hands down, Agatha Christie.”
“Miss Marple or Poirot?”
“Poirot, I think. I especially loved the books where Christie wrote about the author with the Finnish detective. I often think if she hadn’t died, she might have spun Ariadne Oliver into her own detective series.”
Slade nodded. “I wondered the same thing. Now, there’s a cold case I’d like to solve—where was she for eleven days and what was she doing? I wonder why she never told anyone.”
“I often think she didn’t tell anyone just because she had so much fun with hearing the various theories, but I agree it would be a fun mystery to solve.”
As they drove into Angel’s Rise, Fiona started to tense up. Slade reached over, taking her hand, bringing it to his lips, and kissing it.
“I told you I’d keep you safe. Trust me.”
“I do.”
“Just keep saying that; I like hearing it come out of your mouth,” he said as he stopped and parked his vehicle, coming around to her side to open the door for her.
Not at all sure how to react to what he’d just said, Fiona took his hand and stepped out into a throng of onlookers and press—none of them friendly. Slade pushed them aside and they headed up the stairs to her loft. She was glad to see the window into the bookstore was boarded up, and the one in her loft had been replaced. She only hoped someone had cleaned up all the glass.
There was a note on her door from Jess:
Thorn told me what happened.
We came up and supervised the new window
installation and cleaned up.
The window downstairs isn’t a standard size,
so they’ve ordered it. The plywood will have
to suffice, but it’s been installed
correctly so it should be secure.
I’m so sorry this happened.
Thorn says you’re in good hands with Slade,
but call me if you need anything.
Love,
Jess
“Good friend,” said Slade, reading over her shoulder.
“The best.”
“Let’s get inside so you can show me your murder board.”
CHAPTER11
