So far, I couldn’t find one. I did find several specialist Internet forums and collectors’ newsletters where he spoke out against SerMart, saying they were a “travesty on the gemstone trade” and “the jewelry equivalent to a fast-food hamburger.”
Perhaps putting his body in SerMart was some sort of act of humiliation? Seemed a bit of a stretch, considering the danger involved. And it wasn’t like he was the only person complaining about Serengeti.com. Lots of people hated them for edging out small retailers and even midsized chains. There had even been antitrust lawsuits, complaining that the corporate giant was acting as a monopoly. Those had all been ruled in Serengeti.com’s favor, however. It wasn’t a monopoly; it was just huge and getting huger.
I finished my tea and put my computer to sleep. I had gotten as far as I could with online research. The next step was to start making inquiries on the ground, especially within the business community.
Luckily, I had a date with a member of the business community the very next morning.
Six
Octavian was well-dressed as usual. He had changed from his bright summer suits to a dark blue for the autumn season, his tie on just right and his shirt freshly pressed. An important businessman in the city until his retirement, he had not let his wardrobe get any more casual.
The formality of his dress was at odds with his character, which was warm and open. He never had a cross word for anybody unless they deserved it, like if they were trying to kill the both of us. He was one of the few civilians who knew I had worked for the CIA. I hadn’t intended on telling him, but it sort of came up during the whole “the Mob is trying to kill us” phase of our relationship. He got lots of brownie points for sticking around after that.
We sat at the Tic Toc Café, one of Cheerville’s more popular, and noisy, eateries. We came for the crepes, which were the best I’ve ever tasted. They were so good, in fact, that we were willing to endure the café’s vast collection of clocks. Every wall was covered in them, and every corner had a grandfather clock standing in it. Even our table was a big, round clock on its back, the hands ticking away time half obscured beneath our plates and coffee cups. I took it all as symbolic. Two lovebirds on the wrong side of seventy enjoying each other’s company while the cold hand of time ticked relentlessly toward the moment of their mutual doom.
Sorry, that was a bit glum. Murders in retail outlets tend to affect my emotions in adverse ways.
So, we sat and talked amid the ticking and the tocking, trying to ignore the passage of time. Ignoring the passage of time had become much easier since Octavian had come into my life.
And yet despite the wonderful company, my mind kept drifting to the sight of that poor man lying in my shopping cart with a knife through his head.
Octavian put down his fork. “You seem distracted.”
I blinked and looked at him. I had the vague sense that he had said something before this, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember what.
“Oh, it’s just getting everything organized for Martin’s birthday. I got him a gift, but you know how kids are. So picky…”
My boyfriend cocked his head and studied me for a moment. “No, it’s more than that.”
“Really, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
He picked up his fork and began to eat again, lost in thought. There was a silence at the table that I couldn’t quite break. Suddenly, Octavian sat bolt upright.
“Aha!” he shouted, pointing his fork at me with such force that a portion of crepe flew off the end of it and landed on my plate.
“Yes, I’d love some crepe. Thank you.”
Octavian blushed. “Oh, sorry. But I’ve figured out what it is.” He looked around at the other tables then leaned forward and in a conspiratorial whisper said, “It’s another case, isn’t it?”
“Really, Octavian, I—”
He waggled his fork at me. “Come on, now. You can’t hide this from me. I’ve seen you on three cases before this one, and I can tell when you’re on the hunt.”
Yes, he actually used the term “on the hunt,” as if I was some sort of bounty hunter. I got offered that job once, and while the pay was tempting, I preferred the travel that the CIA offered me. I mean, who doesn’t want to do forced marches through the Salvadoran jungle?
I sighed and then told him the whole story. He would have wheedled it out of me eventually.
“SerMart,” he said once I finished. “There’s a coincidence. Albert just got a job there.”
“Who?”
“You know, Albert. The stoner waiter who caught you with a dead body in the Cheerville Country Club men’s room.”
“Do keep your voice down. I like this café and want to be able to come back to it. Why would Albert be working at SerMart? He seemed to like his job at the country club.”
Mostly because it gave him plenty of opportunity to smoke pot and race golf carts around the grounds with his fellow underachievers.
“Oh, he got fired. Drugs.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“No, he wasn’t taking drugs. He’s stopped now. He caught a businessman snorting cocaine in the men’s room, and the guy reported on him.”
“Why would the businessman report him? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
“Well, Albert’s not the reporting kind. This businessman, though, has a lot of influence. He was worried that Albert would try to blackmail him and so made up a story about Albert sneezing into his gin and tonic.”
I shook my head. “The more I learn about this town, the more I want my old job back.”
At least drug kingpins and terrorists were honest about who they
