Free No Comfort for the Lost by Nancy Herriman Page B

The list had to include Hubert Lange, despite his daughter’s feelings about Li Sha. Celia was certain, though, that Mr. Lange would have mentioned if Li Sha had asked him for money.
    Wouldn’t he?
    She was still standing in the middle of the room, blanket clutched to her chest, when Addie shouldered open the connecting door that led to the kitchen, a tray of tea and biscuits—or cookies, as the Americans called them—in her hands. Her wonderful shortbread, which she always baked to lift Celia’s spirits.
    “And what did that Dora Schneider have to say about Li Sha?” her housekeeper asked.
    “Were you listening at the door?”
    Addie didn’t even bother to look guilty. “This isna our concern, ma’am. Asking questions and whatnot. We should leave such matters to the police. That is what they’re paid to do.”
    “But I’ve learned that on the night Li Sha was killed, she went to ask someone for money to leave the city. That’s very important information.”
    “You know what my father would say about all this, ma’am. Of little meddling comes great care.”
    “Sometimes a little meddling is called for, Addie.”
    One eyebrow arched. “Nae to my mind.”
    With that, Addie snatched the blanket from Celia’s arms and marched back to the kitchen, head held high.

CHAPTER 7
    “I don’t know what he thought he saw, but it wasn’t like that at all!” Wagner shouted, looking at Nick, then Taylor, and back again.
    Nick leaned against the wall of the detectives’ office, the wind from the open window at his back ruffling his hair, and folded his arms. “Then what was it like, Mr. Wagner? The dockworker is pretty sure you were trying to sink that Chinese girl’s body, not drag it onto the pier.”
    Seated next to Wagner, Taylor jotted in his notebook, his pencil scratching against the paper.
    Wagner glared at him. “What’re you writing? You writing I did it?”
    “Just taking notes, Mr. Wagner.” Taylor licked the tip of his pencil and flipped to a new page. “Just taking notes.”
    The veins in Wagner’s thick neck bulged. “I was not trying to sink her body, Detective Greaves. I was on my knees trying to grab her dress, and it was stuck. I lost my balance and nearly fell into the bay myself. You could’ve been fishing me outta there, too.”
    Taylor glanced up, looking for direction on how to proceed. Wagner’s story seemed reasonable. It could’ve happened that way, and the dockworker who’d noticed him with the girl’s body could’ve gotten the wrong idea. Witnesses weren’t always reliable, and memories could change to fit what you wanted to see.
    “My wife told you I was with her all night,” said Wagner. “Right? And I bet you could ask my neighbors if they saw me, too. That woman who lives across the way is pretty nosy. She’d tell you I was at home that night, and I didn’t leave early for work, either.”
    Taylor raised his eyebrows and Nick nodded. Another person to confirm that Wagner hadn’t killed Li Sha. A suspect to take off the list.
    “Have Mullahey show Mr. Wagner out, Taylor,” said Nick. “But don’t go too far away, Wagner. We might need to talk to you again.”
    “And I’ll just keep saying what I’ve said all along—I didn’t know her and I didn’t kill her.”
    “Good day, Mr. Wagner.”
    Nick turned and stared out the window where a gust of wind swirled dust across the street. For a city built on sand, it was a common occurrence.
    Chairs scraped back and the door opened, Taylor shouting to Mullahey to get Wagner out of there.
    The door closed again, and Nick glanced over his shoulder at his assistant. “I think we can write that one off, Taylor.”
    Taylor frowned and dropped into the chair he’d just vacated. “I’ll check with his nosy neighbor, but it looks like you’re right, sir. Mr. Greaves. Sir.”
    Nick stalked across the office. It was only fifteen feet by fifteen feet, so it didn’t take long to reach the tall oak filing cabinet against