“Uh-huh. Ah, hurry.” And she hung up.
I held the phone in my hand and stared at it. I was not a fan of this abruptness.
“She said ‘bring the cat’ on the message. I heard her.” Clarence’s ears pricked forward, and when he looked at me, his pupils were huge. “You can’t leave me at home.”
We’d just been out, and yet the thought of a trip had him so overstimulated that he could barely think straight. If I didn’t find a way for him to constructively occupy his time, all that bottled-up energy and excitement would explode into a mushroom cloud of mischief.
“I’m not leaving you, but if you do anything to push Lilac over the edge, I might dropkick you into traffic.”
Clarence sauntered to the garage door, all feline grace and confidence, unruffled by my hollow threats of violence. “It wasn’t me that had her screaming, was it? That was all you, Mr. Retired Death.”
He was right, but that didn’t mean I had to like it—or speak to him on the ride to Lilac’s shop.
When we arrived, the store windows were dark. It looked like she’d locked up early. Not completely shocking, given her stated intent to cancel all appointments for the day, but I’d expected the retail store to still be open, like it had been when we arrived last time.
When I tried the door it was locked, but I caught a glimpse of movement from inside. I rapped sharply on the glass door a few times.
Within seconds, Lilac was at the door unlocking it and motioning us inside. She looked around outside with a furtive, panicked glance then locked the door behind us.
Clarence had gotten this one wrong. He’d said Lilac was fine after listening to her message, but the woman standing in front of me was not fine. Her skin was pale and clammy and her eyes red-rimmed.
“You have to help me.” She gasped and then held her breath, clearly trying not to break down into tears.
“Of course. Whatever we can do.” I didn’t know whether to hug her like a child or hold her hand.
Her eyes met mine and she crumpled into a sopping mess, tears streaming down her face.
That answered one question, at least. I removed a newly laundered handkerchief from my shirt pocket and handed it to her. It was always appropriate to offer a lady in distress a clean hanky, whatever the year.
Thank goodness for Mrs. Feldhaus, my cleaning lady, because I hadn’t yet mastered the art of laundry or ironing.
“Boss.” Clarence’s voice came from the back of the shop, eerily disembodied in the dark room.
“Just a minute, Clarence.”
Lilac bawled into the scrap of linen for several seconds, then started to hiccup, then drew several ragged breaths. She wiped her eyes and clutched the damp hanky tight in her fist. “I think I’m in trouble.”
“Boss,” Clarence called again.
I turned to reply, but stopped when I saw the haunted look on Lilac’s face. Her eyes were locked on the same dark corner where Clarence had disappeared. “Everything okay back there, Clarence?”
“I’m not so sure about that, boss. I think we have a problem.”
Holding my hand up as I left, I said, “Wait here.”
Lilac didn’t move a muscle. Even her eyes remained fixed and staring.
The difference in light between the front and back of the store necessitated a slow approach to allow my eyes to adjust. When I arrived, I found Clarence on the sofa that was pushed against the back wall. Next to him was the slumped figure of a man. But for the disturbingly absolute stillness of his body, he appeared to have simply stopped to rest his feet and fallen asleep.
He was large. Though it was difficult to gauge with certainty, since he was seated, I estimated him to be taller than me, and I was well over six feet. He was also easily fifty pounds heavier, which made me cautious as I felt for a pulse. “He’s dead.”
Clarence turned his head, and the light caught his eyes, making them glow. “Boss? I don’t think that guy was ever alive.”
16
Tuesday evening
“What?” Lilac called from the front of her store. “What does that mean, never alive?”
We needed some light. To try and handle a situation involving a body in the dark, whether dead or never alive, was ridiculous. I scanned the front of the store and discovered that Lilac had hung curtains made of a deep teal velvet.
“Lilac, draw the curtains.”
“Oh, right. I should have thought of that.” She hurried to comply but then stopped. “So we’re not calling the police?”
“Get those windows covered, then we’ll discuss it.” I knelt next to Clarence and the body, then quietly asked, “What is it?”
“I’m not sure, but my nose isn’t getting human smells,” Clarence replied.
As close as I was now, I could see his nose flare as he scented the air.
“And there’s blood, but no metallic scent. It’s not like any human blood I’ve smelled.” He crept closer and ducked his head in the vicinity of the body’s head. “There. As best I can tell in this light, it looks like blood—but it’s not.”
A trail of dark fluid had run from the side of the creature’s head and dripped onto his white collar. For a nonhuman creature, one that had possibly never been a living being, he’d been well dressed: a crisp white-collared shirt tucked into a pair of slacks, a conservative tie, and the shoes looked expensive and newly shined. My imagination said tattered clothing and the smell of the grave was more appropriate for what appeared to be a human facsimile.
My imagination was an idiot. “Earlier, when I checked his pulse, he was cold. If this just happened—”
“Oh, he’d still be warm. This guy’s no guy.” Clarence reached out a paw and gently tapped an arm.
Lilac approached, stopping a few feet away with her arms crossed tightly against her body. “The windows
