I jumped up and followed her. It was a lot better than sitting outside alone, being stared at by the looky-loos who had gathered to find out what all the hubbub was about.
It was silent as Inspector Lee took a slow turn around the shop. She jotted down notes of everything she saw, but stopped writing when she reached Vera’s body. She set the pen and notepad on the counter and stared at Vera for at least two minutes.
Watching her, I got a little emotional. I appreciated her taking the time to simply absorb that image of the poor woman.
Finally, she grabbed her pen and pad and began writing notes again.
Glancing out the window, I saw the two police officers approach the people in the crowd, probably trying to find anyone who might have seen something relevant to the murder.
When I turned back to Inspector Lee, she was gazing steadily at me. “What time did you get here and find the body?”
“I walked in around ten thirty,” I said. “I waited for Vera to show up, but she never did. After a while, I decided to check the back room and that’s when I saw the body.”
“After a while?” she repeated. “How long a while?”
I knew exactly how long because I’d checked my watch repeatedly. “It was eight minutes before I stepped around the counter and found her.”
She stared at me as if I were a space alien. “You’re telling me you stood in this shop for almost ten flipping minutes before you ever saw the body?”
“Eight minutes, not ten,” I said, wrapping my arms tightly around my stomach. “And even though it sounds strange to you, I didn’t see the body at first.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because,” I said, my voice rising, “I’m a courteous customer, that’s why.” Not that I was a customer of Vera’s, exactly, although I had been planning to buy those turtles.
Lee stood at the end of the counter closest to Vera’s head, careful to avoid stepping anywhere near the body and thus destroying possible evidence. She was scribbling rapidly in her notebook, probably noting what a dolt I was. I didn’t care. Well, I did, but I would get over it.
I liked Detective Inspector Janice Lee. Sometimes I wished we could be friends and I’d even invited her over to my house for a glass of wine a few times, but true friendship would probably never happen between us. Not when I was always the one finding a dead body and she was always the one showing up, taking one look at me, and wondering what the hell kind of murder magnet she was dealing with. It wasn’t a great basis for a long-lasting friendship.
“I don’t generally trespass beyond the front counter when I’m in a store,” I explained more calmly. “But after waiting a few minutes, I saw those turtles and wanted to take a closer look.”
Inspector Lee glanced down at the bottom shelf to see what I was pointing at. “Hey, those are fun.”
“I thought so,” I muttered. “I was thinking my mom might like them.”
A thought flashed through my mind: Why in the world were we talking about the turtles? But it wasn’t that odd, really. In the midst of a tragedy, we humans were inclined to cling to the most simple and mundane aspects of life.
“Sorry to disappoint you and your mom,” Lee said, “but those turtles are officially a part of my crime scene now.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured.”
Lee moved over and stood next to me at the counter, where Vera’s customers would normally stand. She set her pad and pen down on the counter and stared straight ahead for a long, nerve-racking moment. She glanced to her left and took in the wrapping table, then turned right to gaze at the shelves of pots and knickknacks. Finally, she nodded. “Yeah, I guess it’s possible. I can’t see her from here, either.”
I tried not to let on how important it was that she had just validated my own actions.
But she wasn’t quite ready to let up on me. “So, what were you doing here for eight minutes while you waited for her to show up?”
“I was looking at stuff,” I explained. “The turtles. The pots. The gnomes. Did you see all those arrangements in the refrigerator case? They’re beautiful. It’s a nice shop, don’t you think? Everything is so cheerful and pretty.”
“Except for that pesky corpse, right?”
I sighed. “Right.”
Once again she grabbed her notepad and pen and started in with more questions. “So, what were you doing here in the first place, Wainwright?”
I gave her a brief rundown of my new job on This Old Attic and how I’d appraised Vera’s book and how she wanted me to restore it so she could make more money selling it.
“So, you’re like a celebrity now,” she kidded. “If I watch the show tonight, will I see you on there?”
“These San Francisco shows haven’t started airing yet. But they did feature a portion of my segment with Vera on the news the other night. You should watch it.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” She kept writing.