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business was no exception.
    She slid the deadbolt as Taffy started to yip. Mildred looked up and saw a lone figure at the end of the alley that separated Aunt Millie’s Attic from the Grenville Historical Society.
    She smiled. ‘You came back to look at the cameo? Well . . .’ She quickly disarmed the security system and unlocked the door. Normally she wouldn’t have done this, but the cameo in mention was a spectacular Victorian lapis lazuli set in fourteen carat gold with large rose-cut sapphire and diamond accents. At ten grand it could go a long way toward pulling the month out of the crapper.
    She ushered her late-afternoon customer into the showroom with its outstanding collection of antique jewelry and expensive bibelots, all purchased at a fraction of their value. Mildred Potts prided herself on never paying more than ten cents on the dollar. It had given her a reputation, but this was a tough business and considering how many of her colleagues had recently closed shop, or were in jeopardy of doing so, only the shrewd survived.
    With Taffy under her arm, Mildred gushed, ‘Now, I’ve been dealing in jewelry for . . . well, for more years than I care to say, but this piece is outstanding. You have a sophisticated eye.’
    She unlocked the display case and lifted the jewel from its velvet-lined box. As she slid it toward the customer, her index finger lifted up the tag, letting her see the asking price, as well as her carefully encrypted code that told her what she had paid for it. The latter information she rarely needed. This piece in particular had been part of a major score. It was included in a liquidation she’d gotten on a low-ball bid, with heirs who were both eager and ignorant, a delicious combination. All said and done, the brooch had cost her less than a hundred dollars.
    â€˜Of course,’ she offered, watching as the customer fondled the pin, ‘I could do a little better on the price.’
    â€˜How much better?’
    Mildred rechecked the price and inhaled deeply, as if experiencing sharp pain. ‘I could go nine even, but I have a lot of money in that piece. I know I shouldn’t have paid what I did for it, but sometimes you have to if you want quality.’
    â€˜Of course,’ the customer said, and then uttered the one small sentence that was music to Mildred’s ears, ‘I’ll take it.’
    Taffy squealed excitedly, sensing his mistress’ elation.
    â€˜Such a sweet dog,’ the customer commented as Mildred wrote up the sale.
    â€˜Yes,’ she replied, while figuring the six and a quarter percent sales tax. ‘She’s my little Taffy-waffy.’
    â€˜I’m sure she is.’ And with that the customer pulled out a delicately engraved, Lady Beretta 21A and shot Mildred Potts at close range between the eyes.
    As Mildred crumpled to the floor, still clutching a terrified Taffy, the customer snapped on disposable cream-colored latex gloves, grabbed Mildred’s keys that dangled from the case where she’d retrieved the cameo, and systematically went through the shop liberating the jewels.

SEVEN
    T olliver waited numb and stiff on a scarred oak chair as the police conferred behind the soundproof glass of the interrogation room. Born and raised in Grenville, he’d only been inside the red-brick nineteen-twenties police station as part of a third-grade field trip. He felt unreal and disconnected, and in his chest a hollowness as if some vital part of him had just been ripped out.
    Yesterday, at the Medical Examiner’s office in Farmington, he had been shown a body and told that it was Philip’s. He needed to be told, because the bloated and mangled remains in the refrigerated drawer bore little trace of the man who had shared his life for nearly two decades. Hours later, he still smelled the stench that had flooded over him as they’d unzipped the shiny black bag. He could still see