Murder on the Hill (5 page)

I went to print the page and an error popped up. I needed to be a member of the library. “Excuse me,” I said, leaning around the monitor to see Mr. Grey Eyes.

“Yes?”

Damn him and his charming smile. I felt a flush of excitement in my stomach. The attraction was likely way too obvious on my stupid face. I could already feel my cheeks burning. “May I borrow your pen and a piece of paper… I forgot my… erm… things.”

Things!

So classy. So smooth.

“Of course,” he said, pulling a sheet from his notebook. He handed it to me and reached into his jacket, exposing a police badge attached to the inner pocket. He pulled another pen out and passed it across. “Doing research?” he asked as I took the pen.

“Homework,” I said hurriedly. What a ridiculous answer.

“You don’t look like the homework type.”

God, he was analysing me in his police officer/detective/whatever kind of way.

“What type do I look like?” Why was I flirting with a copper? Stupid beautiful man!

“Mine.”

“Oh,” I said, again with the classy repartee.

Before I could make more of a fool of myself, Cordi appeared, holding a book open.

“I found something,” she said. “Local dealer, Ryu—”

“Kirino?” I finished.

Her eyes widened as she smiled. “Yes, that’s the one. Good work! I think I might have also found something on our gem. Apparently, it’s—”

Cordi suddenly cut off as she saw Mr. Grey Eyes. I thought it seemed like an excessive reaction. He was hot, but not enough to elicit such an obvious stare.

“Alex, what are you doing here?” Cordi said, her face suddenly hostile.

Grey Eyes, or Alex, stood up, flashing one of his charming smiles. “Cordi, darling, so good to see you. I trust the solicitor sent you the updated documents?”

“You know he did,” she said.

Looking at me now, Alex said, “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Cordi shook her head and sighed. “Harley, meet my sleaze of an ex-husband, Alex.”

The idiot just stood there looking at me like I was dinner. Yet I still couldn’t look away. Why Cordi gave him up, I could never know, but it must have been bad. No woman would have kicked him out of bed if they had the chance.

“We’re leaving,” Cordi said.

Before she could turn away, Alex grabbed the book from her and then looked at me. “Kirino… that makes three of us,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“He’s a detective,” Cordi said. “I take it you’re working the Bellman case?” she said with resignation in her voice.

And to her, he said, “Indeed, and I take it you two are as well?”

“Don’t get in our way,” Cordi said. “Mr. Bellman himself hired us.”

“So that outranks me, does it?”

“You’re not a homicide detective,” Cordi said. “And this isn’t fraud either.”

“You know that for a fact, do you?”

Cordi’s neck and cheeks were flushed red with anger. Her hands gripped the book and pulled it from his grip. “Just leave this to the professionals,” Cordi said. Turning to me, she added, “Come on, let’s get on with it. We’ve got work to do.”

“I’m warning you, Cordelia, don’t get too involved, but call me when you find something out.”

“Do your own job,” Cordi said.

On our way out I snuck a look behind me. He was standing there, his arms folded over his chest. The bastard winked at me.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t still attracted to him—even if he was a dirtbag.

Don’t judge me. Those eyes!

CHAPTER 5

On our way to Kirino’s antiques shop we stopped off at the Apple store and bought a new laptop—on company expenses. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t negotiate a discount. But it’d be worth every penny, I said to Cordi, after promising her I’d teach her how to use it.

We also bought a 4G dongle so we could get Internet on the go while she got cable installed in her derelict old house.

I leaned over in the passenger seat as we waited at a set of red lights. The sun shone brightly through the windscreen, warming the inside of the car, making me wish the AC worked. “About Alex,” I said.

“He’s a scumbag,” Cordi snapped. “Broke my heart.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking?”

The red light turned green, and Cordi hit the throttle and sped us off into traffic, where we had to slow to a crawl again as a stream of black cabs shot by us, using the bus lane.

“Chose a younger model over me,” she said, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. As I didn’t want to die in an horrific traffic accident, I just nodded, made a sorrowful grunting noise, and patted her on the shoulder, leaving that line of questioning well alone.

“Here,” Cordi said, passing me her cell phone. “Can you call Bellman? Ask him if he knows Kirino.”

“Sure.” I took the ancient-looking Nokia brick. I was surprised it still worked. For a moment I felt like playing a game of snake for nostalgia, but given Cordi’s mood, I flicked through the numbers until I found Mr. Bellman.

He answered after three rings.

“Hello?”

He sounded fragile compared to last time. Unsurprising, really.

“Mr. Bellman, it’s Harley Hill with the Silvers Finders Agency.” Get me with the professional title. I even impressed myself a little.

“Have you found anything about the doru?” he asked eagerly. I could hear the desperation in his voice, the hope. Which made it terrible to tell him that we’re just making enquiries.

“Do you know a Mr. Ryu Kirino?” I asked.

“Of course, he’s just up the road from here. Been a part of the community for decades.”

“Have you had any dealings with him?”

“None, I just know the shop as I’ve driven past it a few times…” His voice grew soft and weary then. “The wife and I… well, before, we shopped there once. I bought her a picture frame for our wedding photo.” I could hear the tears in his voice as he stifled a sob.

“Thank you,” I said. “That’s all I wanted to ask. We’re on the case, Mr. Bellman, and will let you know as soon as we find out more. I’m so sorry for your loss; you have both of our condolences.”

He mumbled some kind of gratitude and excused himself, cutting the line.

“How is he?” Cordi said.

“Not good. He said he and his wife once shopped at Kirino’s, but he doesn’t know him well.”

“Well, at least that’s a connection. Could be the start we need.” Cordi’s anger had dissipated, and she now wore the focused glare of an eagle approaching its prey. And I have to admit, Mr. Bellman’s grief aside, I felt a twinge of excitement to be on the case.

***

We pulled out of traffic and aimed for a parking space outside Kirino’s. A motorbike swerved round us and nearly ran us into another car. Cordi blared the horn and stamped on the brake, making me lurch forward into the seat belt. It pulled against my chest, making me swear all the words under the sun.

The bike’s rider briefly looked behind us before speeding off. I watched as their sparkling blue helmet bobbed and weaved through traffic.

“What the hell was that about?” I asked, massaging my shoulder.

Someone behind us blared their horn. Cordi stuck her head out of the window and gave them a string of expletives in response. She leaned back inside and parked the car. “Sorry about that,” she said, smoothing her cardigan and fixing her hair. “I just needed to get that out of my system. Are you okay? I pulled up pretty sharp there.”

“I’m good, don’t worry,” I said. Growing up in foster homes meant I had a few issues being the victim of bullying. Getting beaten up and bruised was something I had gotten used to. A slight ache from the seat belt wasn’t so bad.

“You poor thing. You’ve been in the wars lately. Let’s hope there’s no ninjas waiting for us inside, eh?”

Or ex-husbands
, I thought. Cordi seemed pretty dangerous to be around when she was angry.

Kirino’s shop wasn’t what I was expecting. It was all clean white tiles and glass display cases lit from inside for dramatic effect. I was expecting something dingier and dustier like many of the antiques shops in London. This was closer to an Apple store. I noticed nothing had prices on them—a case of if you have to ask, you can’t afford.

I felt entirely out of place as though I had just stepped inside a Prada outlet in my jim-jams.

A young Japanese girl in a perfectly tailored black trouser suit stood behind a glass-topped counter containing a dozen small, intricately carved stone statues. A single cardboard placard beneath each one contained a string of Japanese characters.

Cordi had already approached, and I soon joined her.

“Hello,” Cordi said.

I was expecting the girl to have a crystal-cut Japanese accent, but when she opened her mouth I almost laughed when she spoke with a born-and-bred cockney accent.

“Mornin’,” she said. “I’m Katie, welcome to Kirino’s. What can I do for ya?”

She eyed me funny, perhaps seeing my smirk. I put on my serious face as Cordi explained why we were there and handed her a business card.

“Ryu’s my dad, innit,” the girl said. “Wait there a sec. I’ll see if he’s up.”

She turned and went through a door. In the background, I heard her call out. A deeper, definitely Japanese voice responded.

She opened the door. “Come through. He’s out back ’avin’ his bacon.”

I smelled it instantly and my stomach clenched. The paltry muesli at Cordi’s didn’t really cut it. Katie led us through a small, dark corridor, the walls covered with small square picture frames containing photos of what looked like a young Katie and her mother and father.

“’Ere, Dad, some guests wanna speak with ya. About dorus.”

Katie stepped aside and let us walk into the kitchen. We all just about fit. Ryu sat with his back to us at a small square kitchen table just big enough for two. I counted only two chairs. He was looking out of a glass door into a featureless narrow yard.

Katie slipped out behind us and as she passed me said, “Go easy on ’im, he’s not feeling well.”

“I will, thank you,” I said as she headed off to the shop front.

Cordi had placed the library book and laptop on the kitchen counter.

“Mr. Kirino,” she started, “thank you for seeing us this morning. I’m sorry to interrupt your breakfast.”

He turned around to face us. His skin was sallow and hung in jowls on his round face. His eyes were barely visible beneath wrinkled folds. Wisps of black hair were combed over a balding pate. Despite his age and seeming fragility, he was dressed in a black suit that was cut impeccably for his body.

He looked like he could have been the head of a huge conglomerate—or a criminal organisation. His narrow eyes scrutinised us, and he returned to his breakfast, cutting through a runny egg. With his fork he indicated the chair opposite.

Cordi took the seat. I stood behind her as we watched in silence as Mr. Kirino finished his breakfast. Yeah, it was weird. All I could think of was wondering if he’d let me raid his fridge and fry up a bacon sandwich.

Eventually he finished and dabbed at his mouth with a paper towel.

“Tea,” he said. It wasn’t a question, rather a statement.

With great effort he stood up and retrieved a set of small teacups, placing them on the table and filling them from a steaming kettle. With two hands, he indicated them. “Please. You drink.”

In all the kung fu films I had seen, it paid not to disappoint the Big Boss by not accepting his offers. And to be fair, the tea was good—for the few sips that it lasted.

When we finished, he looked up at us with a kind expression.

“Now we talk. No talk on empty stomach.”

“Mr. Kirino,” I said, “we’re here on behalf of Mr. Bellman.”

“Call me Ryu. Yes, I heard news. Sad times.”

“You know Mr. Bellman?” I asked

Cordi was scribbling notes as I carried on the conversation.

“Once. Long time ago. As friends we travelled together for short time, did some business. But… things changed.”

Huh. That was odd. Bellman said he didn’t know Ryu beyond buying something from his shop once. Why would he lie? It seemed there was some deeper issue there.

“Did you hear about the break-in,” I asked, “and what was left there?”

“No, what happened?”

“Someone broke into the shop but didn’t take anything. The intruder left behind a doru.”

The colour in his face drained away as he looked from Cordi to me. It seemed he had connected it to Mrs. Bellman’s death. “This not good,” he said. “Doru warning. Was this before Mrs. Bellman’s death?”

I wasn’t sure how much information to give out, and as Cordi was watching me, probably testing me, I decided to err on the side of caution. “Mr. Kirino, has anyone bought a doru from you lately?”

He shook his head. “No, no doru here for at least five year. Small market for us. I show you sale record.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Cordi said. “We’re not the police, we’re just trying to understand where it might have come from. Are there any other dealers locally?”

He thought for a moment and shrugged. “Maybe auction, but hard to say. Not my business. We focus on more modern item.”

“Have you ever heard of the practice of hiding things inside a doru?” I asked.

Again he shook his head, looking confused. “No, doru would need be broken. Or faked. They’re carved from whole material.”

Hmm, that was at least something. Given the doru was hollow, it seemed it was a fake.

“Would your wife or daughter know of any other dealers or perhaps people who were looking for a doru?” I asked, hoping for something, anything to give us a lead.

Ryu looked away and down at the table. Mumbling, he said, “Wife died… last year.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know.”

Of course I didn’t know. How could I? It’s one of those weird things that you say.

“Is okay,” he said. “Please, if that’s everything, I must work. Daughter helps, but”—he shrugged—“not as good as old man.” He smiled then, making his eyes disappear so it looked like he was squinting into the sun. “Come, I show you out.”

He stood slowly and shuffled out of the kitchen. We followed.

Once back in the shop, he kissed his daughter on the cheek, making her squirm. “Good girl,” he said. “But not as good as old man. You come back later?” he said to her as she headed out back.