Page 6 of Cease and Desist

She shook her head. “No. He said he hadashoe.”

The cop frowned. “He didn’t say anything else?”

She shook her head. “No. He just said he had a shoe and demanded help. I thought maybe he was struggling with the words. He had an accent. Maybe he was mixed up and used the word shoe for something else he really wanted. Either way, I couldn’t figure out what he was talking about.”

“And you didn’t know him.”

“No. Never saw him before.”

The cop gave her a look. “He wasn’t a boyfriend or anything?”

She frowned. “What? No. I told you. Just some random stranger.”

The cop studied her. “Why are you open so late? Are you normally open this late?”

“Yes, actually. My grandfather liked to be open late.”

“And where is he?” the cop asked as he looked around the shop.

She ground her teeth. “He’s dead. He passed away about six months ago.”

The cop’s head came up. “How did he die?”

She suddenly realized the cop was looking at her like she might have done something to the dead guy. Like this was all her fault somehow. “Look, my grandfather was ninety-seven. He died. It happens. I’ve told you everything I know about the dead guy. I can’t help you with anything else. If there’s nothing else, I’d like to deal with my customer.” She was suddenly quite grateful that the man in the suit had stayed.

“You’re sure you don’t know the dead guy?” asked the second cop as he returned to the counter after snooping around.

“Positive.”

“We’re not going to find your number in his phone or anything?”

She clenched her teeth. “No. You won’t find my number in his phone. I don’t know him. I don’t know what he wanted.”

The first cop asked, “Do you have a kitchen in here?”

“What?” What the hell did they want now? Her frustration was boiling over. She didn’t have the patience for this any longer.

“A kitchen.” He pointed to her mug. “I see you made yourself coffee. Where did you do that?”

“It’s tea, and why does that matter?” she demanded.

The first officer gestured to his partner. “You mind if my partner checks out your kitchen?”

“The lady is not inclined to show you the kitchen at the moment, Officer”—the man in the suit and wool overcoat glanced down at the officer’s name tag— “Harrison. Ms. Tanger is, in fact, finished answering questions for the evening. Should you require her to answer more questions, please reach out, and we’ll be happy to set up a time and place for that. If you want to see the rest of the premises, you’ll need a search warrant.”

“Who the fuck are you?” the second cop asked.

“I’m Ms. Tanger’s lawyer.”

Harrison snorted. “She didn’t know who you were when you came in, so how can you be her lawyer?”

“I have been retained to help Ms. Tanger in another matter, and I am her lawyer.” He offered them a conciliatory smile. “Now, gentlemen. I believe it’s time for you to leave. Please be in touch if you require anything else from my client.” He offered the first guy his card.

The cop took it. “This says you work for Drake Industries.”

“Yes, I work for all kinds of people. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to chat in private with my client.”

Harrison snapped his notebook closed and glared at the man. “Fine,” he growled. “But we’ll be back if there are any more questions.”

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