Page 68 of Murder By the Millions
Chloe unloaded a stack of books on the counter and called over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back,” to a trio of young customers waiting in the romance aisle. She whispered to Tegan and me, “If I hear someone use the wordlikeone more time”— she emphasized the word—“I’m going to scream.”
We laughed.
“Psst,Allie,” Chloe whispered. “Tegan likes Patrick Hardwick.”
Tegan swatted her. “Cut it out!”
“She couldn’t stop asking about his taste in books while you were gone.”
Tegan huffed in exasperation. “I want to know more about him because …” She let the sentence hang.
“Because you aren’t sure if you suspect him of murder,” I finished.
“He could be the murderer?” Chloe gasped. “But how? He’s so nice and handsome and, well, down to earth.”
“Nice, handsome, down-to-earth people kill,” Tegan said.
“I suppose you’re right. James Bond does.”
I thwacked her arm. “What is it with you and James Bond, Chloe?” She loved thrillers.
“I like his suave style.”
“He’s a trained killer.”
“Yes, but he makes women swoon. Wouldn’t you like to swoon some time in your life? I mean, really swoon? I know I would.” She crossed her arms melodramatically over her chest and moaned in a dreamy way. “Just because I believe in romance, the kind that occurs in classic literature, doesn’t mean I can’t also believe in the fantasy of a huge, over-the-top, world-shattering love affair.”
“With a killer!” I laughed, until the notion sobered me.
Was Patrick a killer? Was Iggie? How could either of them have stolen into my house and swiped the spearhead? I wished I’d installed a Ring camera, and made a mental note to invest in a security system soon.
“Ladies!” Lillian swept through the front door with three spangly dresses on hangers draped over one arm. “I have a couple of clients who want getups for theGatsbyparty, and I need your opinion.”
“Sorry. Not now.” Tegan gestured to the activity in the shop. “We’re swamped.”
Lillian raised the dresses by the hangers. “A quickie opinion, then. Thumbs-up, thumbs-down.”
“Fine,” Tegan replied.
Lillian selected a red one with a plunging neckline and glorious gold beads.
Tegan held up two thumbs. “Stunning.”
Lillian displayed a blue one that tapered tightly at the hem.
“A mermaid might choose it,” Tegan wisecracked. “A very skinny mermaid.”
“And this, Allie?” Lillian raised a brown gown. “Your turn to chime in.”
I wrinkled my nose. “It’s sort of drab.”
“What do you think, Tegan?” Lillian asked.
“For a person who wants to be under the radar, it’s perfect.”
“It’s a classic,” Lillian said.
“Classically drab,” I joked.
