Free Bodice of Evidence by Nancy J. Parra Page A

out wedding dress shopping for Felicity. She had made appointments at four shops. That one was our last for the day.” I clutched my giant handbag. Then realized I must look like the woman in the waiting room, so I relaxed my fingers. I liked leather bags large enough toput my life inside. Felicity liked to tease me that I was like Mary Poppins—anything and everything could come out of my handbag. It didn’t help my Mary Poppins image that I disliked jeans and instead preferred to wear black tights, penny loafers, a casual corduroy skirt, and sweater.
    â€œWhat time was your appointment?”
    â€œIt was set for four P.M. , but we were late.”
    â€œWhat caused you to be late?” He asked.
    â€œFelicity was having a bridal meltdown and I encouraged her to take a break. We got coffee at the little coffee place about a block and a half from the bridal shop. It made us about fifteen or twenty minutes late. Felicity was worried, but I figured with the price of dresses at the same price point as a new car, the saleswoman would have to be patient.”
    â€œAnd was she?”
    â€œActually, now that I think about it, Felicity was about to have a second meltdown about being late, so I called and left a message. It sort of pacified my sister.”
    â€œI see. Do you know the exact time you got there? It would be helpful.”
    I pulled out my phone and checked the recent calls lists. “I called at four fifteen P.M.”
    He took note of the time. “Who did you speak with?”
    I frowned. “No one answered, so I left a message.”
    â€œOkay, good. I can verify that. How far out were you when you called?”
    â€œNot far. Felicity was a mess, so I checked my phone right before we walked in to show her we weren’t that late. I think it was about twenty after four.”
    â€œGreat.” He wrote that down. “Walk me through what happened when you got there.”
    â€œLike I told you yesterday, we arrived and no one was there. I rang the bell but no one answered, so I went looking. I thought maybe they just couldn’t hear the bell . . . Wait. I remember something else. I may have mentioned it yesterday but it might not mean anything.”
    â€œAnything you remember might be a clue.”
    â€œWell, when we first walked into the shop, the door slammed behind us, you know, as if there was another door open and the wind sucked it closed. I didn’t think much about it at the time, but I don’t think it slammed again until the first responders were coming and going through the front and back door at the same time.”
    â€œHmm,” he said, and wrote it down next to the timeline I had given him.
    â€œDo you think the back door was open when we came in?”
    â€œCould be.” He studied the notes. “Thanks.”
    â€œWait, you don’t think it was the killer leaving, do you? We did make a lot of noise when we came in.”
    â€œEva was murdered in the alley,” he said, and studied me with seriousness. “Did you see or hear anyone when you entered the shop?”
    â€œUm.” I felt a cold sweat wash over me at the idea that the killer was in the shop when we were. “Wow, no. Not that I remember.” A tinge of relief followed the fear as I told myself to breathe in and out and think. “In fact, I distinctly remember that the shop had that weirdly empty feeling.”
    â€œWeirdly empty?”
    â€œYou know, it’s a shop so there are usually two or three salespeople and clients inside, talking and laughing or crying or arguing, whatever.”
    â€œBut you heard none of that.”
    â€œNo, there was no sound at all. Come to think of it, I remember expecting to hear soft music at the very least and there was nothing . . . except for the door slamming behind us.”
    â€œSo you are certain no one was in the building except for you and your sister and