Chapter Forty-One

The view outside the window of the bookstore was obscured by Percival’s broad back. The faint strains of a whistled Bach aria were muffled by glass. Kate peered suspiciously at the innocuous broad shoulders spanning her window. At least he hadn’t deterred customers.

Mrs. Sulley frowned thoughtfully at the man standing outside as she pulled out her wallet. “What’s your policy on loiterers, Kate, dear?”

“Only those with red hair allowed.”

She took the bag Kate handed to her. “You know him then?”

“A passing acquaintance. He enjoys the fresh air.”

The bell jangled above the door as she left.

Kate flipped the sign in the window to CLOSED. The last rays of light drifted across the shelves. Outside, the street was fading into soft grays. Kate set the paper cup from the Fire-Hall Café on the counter within handy reach. She turned on the CD player and sank into her chair. It bobbed gently as she sat and straightened the stack of books she’d chosen to write blurbs on for the website.

I killed him. Headlights arced past and for an instant Gary was standing across from her again. Confessing to murder.

Kate turned up the volume. Maybe the music would help drown out the relentless echo of his words. There wasn’t much she could do about the image of the lifeless body sprawled on the stairs, a parking lot and blood spreading across pavement.

A figure approached the shop, just a dark silhouette against the light. It was impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman.

Percival took a step forward and engaged the figure in conversation. She shrugged and turned her attention back to the laptop.

****

“Bookstore’s closed,” Percival grunted.

“I see that.” The voice was cultured and smooth. The man’s face was drawn with worry, but easy to recognize. In better shape than Percival had thought, but not a threat. Percival kept his expression neutral. He waited to see what the man would do.

“Please,” the man said. “My mother has collapsed behind the store. She’s taken a bad fall. She needs help. I can’t lift her on my own. My car is parked right over there.” He gestured at the shiny, low-slung vehicle. “I need to get her to the car so that I can take her to the hospital.”

So he was going to play it like that. Percival hesitated, thought it through. Glanced behind him at the store. Be discreet, Gary had said. Shops were beginning to close down the length of the street. It was calm and still. Nothing had happened all day. Things were about to pick up now though. He wondered how far it would go. Better safe than sorry.

“It won’t take long. It’s just around the corner,” the man pleaded.

Percival was beginning to enjoy himself, letting the man play out his act. So far, it was weak. He’d not be getting any standing ovations. There wasn’t enough urgency in his voice to have the ring of truth. “Fine.” Percival set his cup on the ground.

“She’s right over here.” The man led the way down the alley next to Fortune’s Cove.

The sounds of the street became muffled. Their footsteps rang against the pavement, cold and hard. Out of sight of anyone passing. Back door of the bookstore sealed. Thick walls. Perfect. No point getting trapped in a dead end. Percival stopped.

The man turned back, looked at him questioningly.

Percival planted his feet, centered his weight. An obstacle, impossible to get around. “Make your move, Delaney.”

Percival could see the shock hit. Using his name had caught him off guard. Percival could see Delaney reworking the plan in his head, running through his options. Percival had his eye on the man’s right hand, watching the fingers twitch, waiting for them to form a fist, but he reached into his jacket instead. Gun? Unarmed himself, Percival tensed, ready to dive if the shot came.

Delaney’s hand appeared, metal winking. A wheel brace. Inconspicuous. Easy to get a hold on, to measure the force. Delaney hefted the weapon, curled his fingers around it, got a good grip and raised one eyebrow. A smile playing around his mouth. He too was enjoying himself.

An uneasy feeling settled over Percival’s shoulders.

Delaney moved like lightning. The blow caught Percival beneath the jaw. The metal rang, vibrated, with the impact. Pain exploded up Percival’s jaw and through his head. His teeth ached with it. The swing was solid, plenty of force behind it. The blow would have taken down a lesser man.

Percival’s eyes rolled in their sockets but he didn’t budge. He omitted an ominous, rumbling growl of pure fury. The sound emanated from his chest, sonorous and menacing.

The other man blanched and fell back a step.

Percival followed, baring his teeth. His hands stretched out.

A phone suddenly rang in a jacket pocket. They froze and eyed each other.

Fueled by adrenaline, Delaney spun and ducked. They broke into action again. Delaney lashed out, the metal whistling through the air. He missed. Percival’s fist fell upon his temple, cut across his forehead. The wheel brace skittered over the ground, rolled beyond reach.

Delaney scrambled to his feet. Percival could see fear in his eyes now. Arms flailing blindly, Delaney landed a wild punch. The phone rang again.

Sweat ran into Percival’s eyes. His ear rang shrilly. He didn’t see the next blow coming until it was too late. Knuckles connected with bone. Once. Twice. The pavement suddenly seemed uneven. Blood ran from his nose. Percival blinked. He looked at his opponent, dazed and surprised. The ground tilted beneath his feet. He groaned, an involuntary sound of dismay.

The man side-stepped as Percival crashed to the ground. Percival’s gaze skidded across the empty sky above. His head reeled. His eyes rolled toward the blurring figure.

Delaney was left standing. He breathed hard, swiped a hand over his face. Smoothed away a thin trickle of blood seeping from a cut above his brow with the pad of his thumb. Grimaced.

Delaney straightened his clothes and walked toward the street.

In the alley, the phone rang on unanswered.