She gave an idle kick at the nearest pile of debris. “Here, let’s get this cleaned up. I left the store in a bit of a hurry. If I’m not back soon, James will be tracking me down on my cell.”
Together, they began picking up the scattered construction leftovers. They were making swift progress loading the trash back into the Dumpster when a flash of pink wedged in a splintered board caught Darla’s eye and made her pause. Barry didn’t notice she had stopped, as he was wrestling with a heavy coil of electrical wire that had come undone and turned into what looked like an oversized spring toy.
Frowning, she extracted what appeared to be a broken piece of pink plastic about the size of a dime that had been caught in crack in the wood. It was the same bubblegum shade as Tera’s phone and looked like it had probably come from one of those plastic snap-on protectors. The piece she held could have broken off when something heavier landed on the phone. She almost tossed it back into the Dumpster but then shrugged and tucked it into her pants pocket. It probably wouldn’t do Reese any good, but it seemed like evidence. She’d hang on to it anyhow and give it to him next time she saw him.
A few minutes later, they had finished the cleanup and were both sweating despite the coolness of the late afternoon. Barry tossed a final paint roller into the container and then whipped off his gloves to swab his gleaming forehead with the back of his hand. “That’s all of it. Let’s get you back to the store so I can head home for a shower before we meet tonight.”
Darla pulled off her own gloves and used them to slap at the plaster dust that now clung to her blue corduroy pants. “I need to clean up a little, too, after our workout,” she assured him with a smile.
A short time later, she was back at the bookstore. After reconfirming the time for their date and making her hasty good-byes to Barry, she rushed into the store. “Sorry for leaving you in the lurch,” she told James, surprised when she glanced at the wall clock to see that she’d been gone for almost two hours. “I stuck around to help Barry clean up after Reese tossed a Dumpster’s worth of junk into his yard.”
“And what of Ms. Aguilar and her phone?”
“Believe it or not, Reese found the phone in all that mess. Thank God he didn’t find Tera in there, too. But still, I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
James gave a thoughtful nod. “I agree, the situation is not promising. Do you know if Detective Reese thinks the girl has come to harm?”
“He’s not saying, as usual. The only one he’ll talk to is Jake, and she’s got that whole code-of-silence thing going on, too.”
Idly, she picked up the graphic novel copy of Poe’s work that she had left on the counter in her rush. “Hamlet’s the only one besides the killer who might know what happened, and he’s not talking, either . . . at least, not so I can understand him. How does this”—she waved the novel in her manager’s direction—“tie in with The Man in the Iron Mask?”
James had just assumed the supercilious look of a self-satisfied professor preparing to launch into another lecture, when the shop door jangled and Mark Poole—he of the recent book club flounce—strolled back in. “Hi, Darla . . . hi, James,” he called, “I, er, forgot to pick up that romance novel that my mom wanted. But I can’t remember the title. Maybe you can help?”
“Ten to one he’s buying it for himself,” Darla murmured to her manager while giving the customer a friendly wave. Then, in a normal tone, she added, “I’ll go take care of Mr. Poole. Why don’t you take your break now, James, and I’ll keep an eye on things. But let me know if you think up any clever theories while you’re at it.”
She tossed the graphic novel back on top of the copy of the Dumas book. Passing by Hamlet, who was lounging, paws in the air, atop the green beanbag in the kids’ section, she told him, “Feel free to use the keyboard and just type out a name anytime now.”
Hamlet flipped over onto his side and gave her a cool green look as if to