Adrien English Mysteries: A Dangerous Thing & Fatal Shadows by Missy J Cat Page B

shelves.
    “What’s wrong?” Angus inquired from the doorway.
    “Help me lift this.”
    Gingerly he picked his way through the rubble, helping me lower an old trunk with a broken lock to the floor.
    The stench of decay was practically overpowering.
    “Shit, man,” Angus breathed. “There are ants everywhere.” He wiped his hands on his 501s and stared at me. His eyes looked huge behind the specs.
    I opened the trunk. There was a dead cat and many, many ants.
    I closed the trunk.
    Angus brushed by me. I could hear him vomiting in the bathroom off the office. After a moment I realized I was just standing there rubbing my hand across my mouth, listening to Angus. I phoned the police. By now I had the number memorized. The squad car showed up followed shortly by Chan and Riordan.
    “Somebody doesn’t like you, Mr. English,” one of the uniforms remarked, closing his notepad on my second complaint in twenty-four hours.
    They nodded in passing to Chan and Riordan.
    “What’s up?” Riordan asked.
    “Someone put a dead cat in the trunk in my office.”
    Riordan and Chan exchanged The Look.
    “Who?” Chan asked.
    “Who? Is that a routine question? How do I know who? The same person who sent me black flowers and a sympathy card, and broke into my shop, and was skulking around the alley last night!”
    “Am I missing something here?” Riordan asked his partner. Chan reached for a cigarette then recalled himself. He started patting his pockets for gum.
    “If people would be candid to start with, it would help,” Chan returned.
    I gave an incredulous laugh. “I’m not being candid? I am a victim here. I am being stalked.”
    “Run that by me again,” Riordan requested.
    Actually until I put it into words the notion was nebulous, half-formed, but now I found myself stubbornly clinging to it. “I am being stalked.”
    “Who do you think is stalking you, Mr. English?” Chan asked politely, unwrapping a stick of gum.

    Fatal Shadows
    65

    “Whoever killed Robert.” I caught sight of Angus loitering palely behind them. “Come upstairs. I have to show you something.”
    They followed me upstairs in silence. I could imagine the long-suffering looks exchanged behind my back.
    In my living quarters I showed them Rob’s yearbook. I told them what Tara had said about Robert asking her to mail it to him right before his death. I turned to the page with the Chess Club and pointed out Rusty. I explained about his taking a walk out a hotel window.
    “I think his death might be related. Maybe he didn’t kill himself.”
    “You’re suggesting that someone killed Corday?” Chan was still neutral.
    “I’m not sure what I’m suggesting. It’s not impossible, is it?”
    “Hard to say without seeing the police report,” Riordan said.
    Chan did a kind of double take in his partner’s direction. “Mr. English,” he said carefully, one eye on his partner, “What possible motive do you believe someone would have for killing members of your high school Chess Club?”
    “I’ve no idea. I didn’t participate in the Chess Club that long. But maybe one of the surviving members would know.”
    “Surviving members? Do you have some reason to believe something has happened to the other members?”
    “Well, no, but isn’t this too much of a coincidence?” I glanced at Riordan. He was looking around my living room curiously. I wasn’t sure what he found so interesting -- it would have been nice if he’d paid attention to what I was saying.
    “No, not really, Mr. English,” Chan answered. “In any high school graduation class there’s going to be a number of deaths, suicides, even homicides by the time your tenth reunion rolls around. It’s the law of averages.”
    “Whatever. What about this?” I thrust the “In Sympathy” card at Riordan, who seemed to recall himself.
    He glanced at me under his brows, took the card, read it. He turned it over. Handed it to Chan. Said gravely, “It’s not a Hallmark.”
    I