The Lost Key (A Brit in the FBI 2)

Nicholas heard the back door open. Sophie stuck her face out, pale, scared. He waved for her to come to the front.

Nicholas said, “This man says he’s here to pick up a book. Do you know him?”

Sophie let out a big breath. “Oh, yes, I know him. He’s a very good customer. Alex, Mr. Grossman, how are you?”

Grossman looked at her pale face and pulled her against him. “I am so sorry, honey, I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

She gulped down tears. “Nothing, at the moment. Did you have an order in?”

“Yes. Your father called me last night.” He glanced over at the register. “That’s it right there—the Tiffany blue cover. Auden’s Poems. Inscribed by Dick Grossman on the half-title.”

Mike saw Sophie was frowning at Grossman, upset t

hat he’d spoken to her father. But she said, “Agent Drummond, may I? It’s already been paid for.”

“I’m sorry, he’ll have to come back another time.”

Sophie glanced at Grossman, then back at Nicholas. She stood straight, in good control of herself. “Agents, please. I’m going to have to close the store for the time being, until I can get caught up on everything. There’s no reason to hijack Mr. Grossman’s book. It’s already paid for. Please, my father wouldn’t want his store or his customers to suffer because of him.” Her voice stayed strong and steady, and Nicholas gave in.

“Fine, but we need to get moving, so be quick about it.”

Sophie packaged up the small book, wrapping it in several layers of brown paper and twine, as if it were glass and easily breakable. Nicholas had to resist telling her to hurry up, but again he had the feeling she knew more, and now she was using the time to get herself calmed and in control. He could be wrong, but he thought something about Grossman, about the phone call, had upset her. If so, why? They’d take a closer look at Alex Grossman. As Sophie wrapped the book, Grossman gave his information to Mike. If he owned a nearby business, he wouldn’t be hard to track down.

Finally, Sophie handed the wrapped book to Grossman. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Sophie. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. I’m sure you won’t be interested in cooking for a while; stop by the pub, I’ll feed you. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thank you, Mr. Grossman. I—thank you.”

She turned away from him. Grossman watched her for a moment, then nodded to the agents and went out the door, the bell tinkling behind him.

Mike asked, “Out of curiosity, how much was that book worth?”

Sophie glanced at the small sales slip her father had tucked into the register the night before. “Forty-eight hundred dollars.”

Nicholas walked to the back of the store, opened the door to the office, and shouted down the stairs, “Mr. Brown? You can come up now.”

Nothing. Sophie was busying herself with the register. Nicholas called out, “Sophie, where is Mr. Brown?”

Sophie cocked her head to one side. “Oh, he had to go, he had a lunch meeting, like he said. I let him out the back.”

Nicholas stalked back up the aisle toward her, clearly pissed. “You shouldn’t have done that. We weren’t finished talking to him.”

Sophie’s chin rose. “Kevin’s not a threat, nor did he have anything to do with my father’s death. He’s a kid, nice enough, but not old enough to get it together, you know?”

Mike said, “We don’t know he didn’t have something to do with your father’s death, Sophie. It was odd, Brown suddenly in the store the same day your father’s been killed. Give us all his information. We’ll have to find him, check him out.”

“I don’t have it. It’s probably on my dad’s computer, but all his files are password protected.” She glanced at her watch. “I want to see my father. Where is he?”

Mike said, “I’ll make arrangements so you can see him. Tomorrow, maybe.”

“I’ve got to go. Dad’s funeral arrangements—all his friends, I don’t know, there’s so much—when will I be able to bury him?”

“Probably a few more days. I’m sorry, Sophie, but I can’t give you an exact day yet.”

She was crying again, and Mike drew a deep breath and let her go.

Nicholas narrowed his eyes after her. “She was lying through her teeth. Oh, her grief for her father was real enough, but Kevin Brown? She simply let him go? And the identity of EP?”

Mike was shaking her head. “I don’t understand her. Why wouldn’t she tell us everything she could to help us find out why her father was killed?”