face. âWillieâs not here. Iâm looking for my wife.â
âAh,â said Fotherby, puffing himself up. âChurchay la femme, is it?â
Wincing at Fotherbyâs French, Michael stood up, as well. Fotherby turned on him. âGraham, donât you know better than to interfere with the scene of a crime? Looks to be a burglary in progress.â
âWhat makes you think this is a crime scene, Constable? Did Willie complain to you again?â
âIâve not heard from Willie,â Fotherby said.
Molly, too, rose to her full height, such as it was, and demanded, âSo on what basis are you accusing us of a crime? Can you tell if anything is missing?â
âYou just said, Stewart, that your wife was missing. Gone away with Willie, has she? Thought youâd turn the place over, like she was hiding under the bed?â Fotherbyâs eyes grew so large they reflected the glitter of the coins in Michaelâs hands. âWell, well, well. Sheâs not the only thing walking off, hmm? Good job one of the neighbors reported your break-in.â
âWe didnât break in,â said Dylan. âThe door was open.â
âHand over those coins,â Fotherby ordered.
With a sigh of frustration, Michael did as he asked. âHere you are. Evidence. Of something.â
âThereâs a bit of cloth caught in the desk lamp, too,â Molly told him.
Fotherby held the coins against his navy blue uniformcoat, not sparing one glance for the desk. âOff you go, the lot of you. Iâm securing the crime scene.â
âItâs not a crime scene,â insisted Dylan, even more anxiety creeping into his voice. âIâm looking for Naomi is all. Just âcause I donât know where she is doesnât mean thereâs been a crime!â
âOh, so Willie invited you here? Push off!â
Michael steered Dylan toward the hallway. Beside him, Mollyâs lips twitchedâshe was no doubt trying to come up with a crushing retort.
Outside, on the balcony, an older woman in a pinafore apron and pincurls backed hastily away from the open door. Dylan pounced. âDaisy Coffey, isnât it?â
âThatâs me, yes.â
She was another member of the Coffey clan, then. Margaret and Randall Coffey ran the grocer, Alice Coffey ran the Historical Society and Daisy ran the rumor mill. Her distended nostrils reminded Michael of Alice.
âHave you seen a girl in black clothes, black spiky hair, red lipstick?â Dylan asked.
âThe scraggy vampire lass? She was here this morning, right enoughâhad a row with Willie that set my crockery to rattling. Screeching like a gull, she was. So was the round blond one last night.â
Willie had more than one girlfriend? Michael wasnât sure whether Dylanâs wince registered that fact or if his reaction was to âscraggy vampire.â
âAlthough,â Daisy added, her pale eyes above her plump cheeks narrowing in reminiscence, âthe womenâs voices were never so loud as the manâs. âYouâve got no choice,â he was shouting, and thereâs Willie saying, âHush, the walls have ears.â The walls donât need ears, not with that sort of to-do.â
âA man?â asked Dylan. âWhen was this?â
Daisy shrugged. âThis afternoon. Iâd just come in from the shopâI help Margaret at the grocerâs, donât I, when thereâs a crowd in townâand Iâd had me a look at that posh yacht of Trevor Hopewellâs. Could be a film star with that face, though not one of those going about with the dirty hair and whiskersâ¦â
âDid you see who was arguing with Willie this afternoon?â Molly asked.
âNo. I heard the door slam and steps going down the stairs, is all.â
Michael and Molly exchanged glances. Had someone confronted Willie, then come back after he left?
Dylan