very much), and a gray boiled wool blazer. Slipping my feet into Doc Martens, I ran down the stairs and leaned against the massive red library building and watched the bustling corner. My cell phone buzzed with an incoming message: “Walk this way. Igor.”
“Let’s go to Soho,” Michael said when I ambled up next to him on the busy sidewalk. “There’s a cute shop down there that I saw last weekend with José that might have some darling things for your so-called living room.”
I hooked my arm through his, and we crossed over to Broadway and headed south.
“I love this jacket,” I said, fingering the rough tweed of his sleeve and giving his bicep a squeeze. “Very professorial.”
“You think?” he asked. “I thought it was kind of retro ‘Good Will Hunting,’ you know what I mean, but not so much that I look like I’m totally handing it over. Right?”
“Definitely not handing it over.”
“And also not at all gay,” he added.
“So not gay,” I agreed. “Very masculine. I’d date you.”
“I know you would, sweetie, but I’m looking for tenure, not a relationship, right?” He patted my hand. “So, the store is on the next block, but tell me quick, why did you get put in the pokey last night? What happened?”
“Neville was killed. I found his body. Can you believe it?” We stopped and held each other’s hands while he screamed “No!” and I screamed “Yes!” and other pedestrians made a Red Sea parting around us.
“So they think you killed him?” he asked.
“They let me go, so, no, I don’t think they do,” I said.
“But they kept you all night long…and they asked lots of questions, right?” We started walking again. I shrugged.
“Where’s that store?” I asked.
“Don’t worry. It’s right here…” he said. “Are you avoiding my question? I mean, someone might think you have a motive to get rid of Neville, the old fairy. He was treating you badly. Oh, do they know about that? Did they talk to anyone else in the group yet?”
“They hadn’t last night. By now, they must have talked to some of them. And to Kenneth. Oh boy. God only knows what he had to say.” I tightened my grip on his arm.
“Quick, get in the store. The cops could be coming for you any minute. We need to hide,” he said. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes scanned the street as he pushed me into a small, crowded shop filled with linens and knick-knacks.
“What is this place?” I asked. “Is this where you wanted to take me? I don’t think I need to hide, Michael.”
“How can I help you?” asked a small woman, barely five feet tall, her bald head shining like a piece of alabaster under the soft lighting of the store. Brilliant green eyes lined in kohl stood out startlingly from her pale visage as she materialized between two stacks of Turkish pillows and carpets.
“We’re looking for some items to decorate a rather Spartan faculty apartment,” Michael said.
“No better place than this,” she said with a flourish. “Assistance or poking around?”
“We’ll poke for now,” he said, smirking at me.
“I am at your service, just beckon,” she said before disappearing behind a beaded curtain.
“I could use one of these,” I said, fingering the beads. “You know, for the kitchen door.”
“No,” he said. “Your cat will destroy it within a week.”
“I don’t have a cat,” I said. “I think you’re thinking of somebody else.”
“You will. Either you’ll get a cat or you’ll go to prison. One or the other. That’s what I think.”
“Gee, thanks. I really appreciate your support, Michael. With friends like you, who needs the police dragging them to the pokey?” I said.
“Come here,” he pulled me to a corner where a little settee was hidden next to some lush fabric samples and a towering pile of wallpaper books. Vases of all sizes, shapes, and origins were arrayed around the stacks. “Sit. Now, tell me everything that happened from the beginning to the end, when you called me this morning. Everything. Don’t leave out anything. Ready, go,” he said.
And so I did. Estelle, the bald proprietor, joined us after a time, bringing a pot of tea and some cups on an exquisite wooden stand. They listened, rapt, while I relayed my ordeal. I may have embellished the horror of the discovery a bit, especially when I had to repeat it for Estelle’s benefit after she arrived with the refreshments, and when I was done, we all sat and sipped the tepid brew thoughtfully.
“Wow,” Michael said.
“Quite,” Estelle nodded.
“Can I see your fingers?” he asked.
“I tell you all that, and that’s what you ask me?” I said. “Sure, here you go.” I held out my hands, palm up, over the tea tray and Michael and Estelle fingered my digits.
“Fascinating,” Estelle breathed. With her tiny reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose, she examined my fingers almost as closely as Detective Friday had during the previous night’s interrogation.
I’d had enough when Michael rubbed my index finger on the inside of his wrist. Pulling my hand back, I tucked my hands under my arms.
“So, are we going to shop or not?” I asked. “I need some distraction. Let’s spend some money, shall we?”
Estelle shifted gears quickly while Michael tried to get more information about the missing prints. I left him on the couch and followed her shiny head into a maze of carpets hanging from a massive rack.
“You obviously need color to begin the brightening process. I’d say you are a red personality, yes?” she asked. “Maybe purple?”
“Everything in the place is sort of beige-y gray now, so I’d head into the reds,” Michael said, coming up behind me. “Something dramatic, but not too bloody, if you know what I mean.”
I scanned the carpets as she flipped through, trying to avoid the poofs of dust that each swish released into the small room.
“Stop—go back—I like that one,” I said. Estelle and Michael shook their heads as she reluctantly returned to a red and brown-based kilim. “Yes, this one. Do you have any pillows that might go with?”
“Really? This is what you want? It’s so…rustic. How about something more sophisticated, like this abstract?” Michael swept Estelle aside and pulled forward a modernist mess of red and black swirls.
“That one makes me dizzy.”
“I thought you wanted my advice,” Michael pouted.
“Oh, I do,” I said. “So, you think that would be good in my apartment. You’ll
