Julian almost leaped over the counter, but Osgood said loudly, “Something is going on at the bank.”
Swinn had been pushing for it, hoping Julian would react. I silently thanked Osgood for the diversion. Then I looked out the bookstore’s big front window and realized it wasn’t a diversion. A mob of people crowded the sidewalk in front of the bank and no one was getting inside.
Of course. The Sanguinati had closed the bank after the end of business on Firesday. It looked like it was still closed, which was not a good way to start the workweek. I wondered if anyone had thought to put a sign on the door to let people know the bank would reopen.
“Looks like the bank is closed today.” Julian took a step back from the counter as he regained control of himself. “You might want to go over and assist with crowd control.”
“Not my job,” Swinn said.
“Neither is following up on a ludicrous complaint, but you’re here.”
Marmaduke Swinn locked eyes with Julian Farrow.
“The bank’s president sold out to save himself,” Julian said quietly. “He and the bank manager are off the game board. So is Franklin Cartwright. So are Chesnik, Baker, and Calhoun. Are you and Reynolds also pawns in someone’s scheme? What is the price of loyalty?”
The hatred that filled Swinn’s eyes was totally out of proportion to Julian’s words—unless Swinn really was a pawn in someone’s scheme.
“Someone should have put a bullet in your brain years ago,” Swinn snarled.
I froze, shocked. Osgood looked equally shocked. Maybe more so because Swinn had been his commanding officer a few days ago.
“Better men than you have tried, and I’m still here,” Julian replied.
“Your luck won’t hold forever.”
“Maybe not. But I have allies too, and I’ll let them know that if something happens to me, you should be the first person they check out.”
“That’s enough,” Grimshaw said.
I don’t know how long he’d been standing just inside the door. I didn’t see him come in, didn’t know how much he’d heard.
“Officer Osgood, go over to the bank and start dispersing the crowd. I’ve been informed that the bank will reopen tomorrow under new management. People should bring in proof of their checking and savings accounts. Every account with confirmed paperwork will be honored. Pass the message.”
“Yes, sir.” Osgood fled.
“Detective Swinn,” Grimshaw continued. “This isn’t your territory. You came in to investigate a man’s death. It has been determined that no human agent was involved in his death, so the case is closed.”
“Just because a human didn’t kill him doesn’t mean a human wasn’t involved.” Swinn looked at me when he said it.
“The investigation is done.”
“It’s done when I say it’s done.”
Grimshaw took a step toward Swinn. “It’s done when your captain says it’s done. He called you this morning, telling you to return to Putney. You and Reynolds. I know because your captain called mine to request that any follow-up be handled through the Bristol station.”
Swinn’s face turned an unhealthy shade of red. “This isn’t over.” He laced the words with venom.
“Unfortunately, you’re right about that.” Grimshaw stepped aside, giving Swinn a clear path to the door. He watched Swinn until the other man pushed through the crowd still milling around the bank and got into the unmarked car. Then he looked at Julian. “We need to talk.”
Julian hesitated. “You know where I live.”
Now Grimshaw focused on me. “Do you feel all right?”
“My face is sore. Otherwise, I think I look worse than I feel.”
“That’s good.”
I guess that was his way of telling me I really didn’t want to visit any more stores until the bruises faded.
“Call Pops with an order and ask him to drop it off at the boardinghouse,” Julian said.
“Why there?” I asked. Although getting a snack at the boardinghouse had a lot of appeal. And I could give Ineke the gossip firsthand. Between the showdown at the bookstore and the run on the bank there was a lot to talk about. “Scratch that question. Dropping off an order at Ineke’s would save Pops some time and gasoline.”
Julian’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Exactly.”
Grimshaw walked me to my car. “They shouldn’t bother you, but if Swinn or Reynolds shows up at The Jumble—or anywhere else—I want to know about it. Understood?”
“Did Swinn mean what he said about Julian?”
Grimshaw opened my car door and didn’t reply.
CHAPTER 32
Grimshaw
Moonsday, Juin 19
Grimshaw found the Mill Creek Cabins easily enough. They were larger than he’d expected, with either a loft or an attic space above the ground floor. A covered porch ran across the front of each cabin, and low stone walls enclosed front yards that weren’t any wider than their respective cabins.
Julian lived in the last of the six cabins, the one farthest away from the main road. Grimshaw parked next to his friend’s car, picked up the insulated box, and came around to the wooden gate in the wall, studying the raised gardens that hugged the stone walls on three sides.
“You raising flowers and vegetables now?” Grimshaw asked.
“Thought I would give it a try.” Julian held up a bottle of beer. “There are more cold ones in the fridge, unless you’re out of uniform but still on duty.”
Grimshaw wasn’t sure he was ever off duty anymore, but he had changed to summer-weight trousers and a pullover shirt as a way to indicate this wasn’t an official call. But he didn’t think the conversation was going to be easy either. He held up the insulated box. “Dinner, compliments of Ineke.”
“That’s a fair trade.”
Grimshaw went inside. An open floor plan for the most part. Pocket doors to provide privacy for the bedroom and bathroom. Stairs on one side of the main room, going up to the loft area that might be considered a guest room or home office. A fan on the ceiling. He wondered if the fireplace provided the sole source of heat. That would explain the open floor plan.
He put the food in the fridge, took out a beer. The bottle opener was on the counter, so there was no reason to look through drawers. Going back out, he settled in the other chair on the porch and decided to circle around what they needed to discuss.
“Did you know Ineke has tattoos?” he asked.
The beer bottle hovered near Julian’s lips before he lowered his hand. “Ineke? Where?”
“Her thighs. She was wearing a bathing suit. The tats were hard to miss.” He described the tattoos.
“Gods,” Julian said. “I used to rent a room from her.”
“I am renting a room from her.” He studied Julian. “What?”
“It’s nothing.”
“With you it’s never nothing. Spit it out.”
“Just . . . the Xaviers are a bit possessive about their compost bins. Have you noticed that?”
“Can’t say I have. Why did you?”
“I offered to turn over the compost while I was there and was politely told to keep my hands off.”
“Maybe they have a system.” Or a convenient place to dispose of inconvenient bodies?