So the clerks at the art shop, unsurprisingly, knew nothing. That had pretty much been the story all over town. There had been one thing at the shop, though. A tall brunette guy -- white and pasty -- edging his way out of the shop. He'd left before Dani had a chance to question him, and you couldn't actually bring people down to the station for
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Comments 14
It wasn't that he had anything against police inherently, of course. It was only that they tended to make his life -- especially his new life as a PI -- although also his old life as a dead-waking piemaker -- difficult.
Ned managed a completely innocuous expression, looking up at her from his bowl of spaghetti. "Hello," he offered. "I remember seeing you there, yes. Did you find whatever you were looking for? I think they had a very nice supply of pens."
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"Wasn't looking for pens. What about you?"
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And if it was about the murder he had semi-witnessed, what was he going to say? Yes, ma'am, a block of ice?
"Um, well, I'm not much of an artist, per se," he muttered, twirling his pasta with his fork. "I'm actually a baker, a piemaker, actually, and I'm trying to find a good design for the new menu at my pie shop. I call it The Pie Hole, so I was thinking maybe a nice red and brown like a cherry pie would do, but I don't know if I should use watercolor or tempera paints and I was hoping to get the opinion of the salesgirl but she was still unpacking."
It was as good as an excuse as any. He smiled uneasily. "What were you looking for?"
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"I was looking for information about a string of homicides that have been happening across the city. You heard anything about that?"
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