Death by the Book - Lenny Bartulin [35]
Jack stepped off the footpath and stood between two parked cars. He kept his eyes on Durst. He watched him check his suntanned reflection in a window. As Durst adjusted his scarf, Jack crossed the street. He stopped opposite the front door of Celia’s shop. Durst continued on. Then he got into the driver’s side of a parked car. Jack waited a few moments to hear the sound of the engine and see the car pulling out, but the white BMW stayed where it was. Jack could just make out Durst’s silhouette through the rear window. He waited some more but the car did not start up. Maybe Durst was fixing his hair in the rear-view mirror. Maybe he would be a while.
Jack pushed the door to Celia’s Crystal Palace open. A bell rang, shaking out a sprinkle of nostalgia. Celia Mitten looked up from behind a glass counter where she sat next to a credit card terminal, holding a pen. The machine was printing out a smooth spool of white paper.
‘Mr Susko!’
‘Not too busy, are you?’ Jack gave a quick smile but studied her face like a poker player.
‘No, not at all.’ She stood up and began to clear the glass counter of invoices, a calculator and some change. ‘Two minutes from closing time, actually.’
Jack glanced at his watch: nearly 4.00 p.m. Her voice sounded a little nervous. Or was Jack listening too hard? He unbuttoned his coat.
‘I’m surprised to see you,’ she said. ‘How are you feeling now? What actually happened?’ She sounded sincere enough.
‘I’m fine. It just looks bad.’
Celia waited for more.
‘Bar-room altercation,’ said Jack, turning away. ‘Serves me right. How’s your father?’
‘He’s better, thank you.’ She tore the ribbon of paper from the eftpos machine and folded it once. Then she picked up a stapler and snapped it crisply on the corner of a couple of receipts.
‘That’s good to hear.’ Jack looked around the shop. It was very bright in there. Two display walls were mirrored, the shelving was glass, and the colour scheme was white, bronze and silver. Jack could see bits of himself reflected all over the place. There were a hundred and one configurations of crystal stones and beads on display. For guidance, there were some pictures of women wearing different styles of tiaras, jewelled hair combs and stickpins. Everything a young princess could want and did not need to insure.
‘You must be relieved,’ he added.
‘Oh, I can’t tell you.’ Celia kept her eyes down, scooping up the rest of the change spread out on the counter. She poured it back into the tray of an open till.
‘Is he at home now?’
‘Um, yes.’ She looked up. Her eyes seemed a little bloodshot. Jack held them. She blinked a few times and then returned her attention to the counter. Her neck had flushed.
‘I’d love to meet him.’
Celia shook her head in a disappointed manner. She shoved the calculator and a notepad into a drawer and closed it roughly. ‘You still don’t believe me about the burnt books, do you, Mr Susko?’
Jack inspected a row of brooches. ‘Hammond Kasprowicz certainly didn’t.’
Celia closed her eyes: a moment later she fixed them on Jack, narrowed and fiery. ‘I could have told you that.’
‘I was hoping we could have that cup of tea you offered.’
‘My father is recuperating,’ she said, irritated. ‘He’s fragile at the moment.’ She walked out from behind the counter and stopped by the front door. She reached up to a small bank of switches and killed the lights. ‘I’m sorry, but I do have to close up now.’
Jack put his hands inside his coat pockets. The sign on the front door said closing time was 5.00 p.m.
‘Early today?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Meeting someone?’
Celia went back around the counter. She picked up her red coat and handbag