“Simon.” She touched his shoulder, hearing the grief in her voice. “We need to call this in.”
“I’ll do it. A friend on the force owes me a favor or two. He’ll keep the news from getting out. James killed this time, and he’s going to be panicked. I don’t want him going to ground. Not yet.” He glanced up at her. “Did Agnes have any family?”
Claire shook her head. “I want to take care of the arrangements. I owe her that much. Tell your friend I will take care of—” She covered her mouth, tears burning her eyes.
Simon gently freed himself from Mildred, framed Claire’s face with his hands, and kissed her forehead. “You have a beautiful heart, Claire Wiche. I am proud to call you my friend.”
He stood, pulling his cell phone out of his jacket as he moved to the front of the shop. Claire stared after him, her throat tight. She let Mildred grope at her, knowing the old woman must still be frightened.
“She’s dead, isn’t she? Madam Serena.” Mildred let out a deep sigh. “She was the best, you know. At reading the cards. Always had the answers I wanted.” Those dark brown eyes shot up to Claire’s face. “I suppose I’ll have to come back to you now. What a shame—we had such a good connection.”
“Mildred.” Claire forced herself to speak calmly, when all she wanted to do was slap the woman for being so damn self-absorbed. “Agnes is dead. I would like a quiet minute to mourn her. Perhaps you can do the same.”
“Oh—of course, dear. She was such a comfort, when my last love disappointed me. We were about to discover the identity of my latest admirer when . . .” Her voice faded as Claire simply looked at her. “You go on and pray for her, dear. I’m just going to have a peek at the cards she didn’t—”
“It’s a crime scene,” Simon said as he returned, crouching in front of the old biddy. “So I’m afraid your great revelation will have to wait. The police will take you home, Mildred, after they get your statement.” He held out one hand to Claire. “We don’t need to stay.”
Mildred grabbed his hand. “You’re not leaving me here?”
“You are a material witness, Mildred.” Simon sandwiched her hand, gave her his complete attention. “You are the most important part of this investigation.”
“Oh,” she whispered, her eyelashes fluttering. Claire had to look twice, but yes, they fluttered. Like a love struck teenage girl. Poor Simon.
“Now, you stay here,” he pried his hand out of hers, without looking like he wanted to desperately escape, and stood. “Answer all their questions, let them take you home. Claire and I will look in on you tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Disappointment pinched her thin lips. “Claire doesn’t have to bother, not with her business to run and that loud, obnoxious boy to keep in line.”
Claire’s temper spiked. “He’s not—”
“I will be happy to check on you myself, Mildred.” Simon smiled down at her, waving Claire to the door behind his back. “You catch your breath, now. They will be here soon.”
Sirens filtered through the shop, getting louder. Simon took Claire’s arm and headed to the front door, pausing next to Agnes. Claire lowered herself to Agnes’ side, Simon coming with her. “I am so sorry, Madam Serena.” She knew Agnes would have liked her farewell from Claire to be with her flamboyant persona. “We will find him, and he will pay. I promise you.”
“Come on, sweetheart.” Simon lifted her, and they reached the door just as the first cruiser pulled up, lights flashing in the brisk fall afternoon. The few locals still out in the cold weather gathered around, a maudlin audience for the morbid performance about to happen. “Stay here.”
He strode over to the cop stepping out of the passenger side, talked quietly for a minute before the cop nodded, glancing over at Claire. Simon moved back to her, and she spoke before he opened his mouth.
“He wants to talk to me.”
“You knew Agnes.” She flinched at the past tense. “He needs your help to track her routine.”
“All right.”
Simon held out his hand. Grateful for the warmth, the strength of his grip, Claire walked over to help put a colleague to rest.
*
Zach hunched down at the back of the growing crowd, his throat tight as he listened to the rumors being passed around. Agnes dead. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it, couldn’t believe she wouldn’t come roaring out of her shop, shooing away the people blocking her potential customers. She’d intimidated him, but he respected her knowledge, and was a source he could go to that wasn’t Mom or Annie. A source who let him ask all the questions he wanted the last few months, without censor or judgment.