The flashlight was pretty dim, but I knew it was strong enough to do the trick, so I crouched down and directed its beam of light along the ground toward the back of the passageway and under the Dumpster. There, in the very back corner at the end of the shed, were two yellow points of light reflecting right back at me.
I whispered, “Mr. Cosmo, I presume?”
The two points of light blinked, and Mr. Silverthorn said, “Is it him?”
“I think so.”
I remembered Mrs. Silverthorn saying Cosmo wouldn’t answer to anything but his full name, but I had a feeling under these circumstances he might be willing to make an exception. I got down on my hands and knees and moved the light from side to side, but now he had turned his head in toward the corner. “I can’t see his face, but I see a lot of fluffy orange fur, and yep, I see a white-tipped tail.”
Mr. Silverthorn sighed with relief. “Oh, thank goodness! Mrs. Silverthorn will be so happy.”
I moved a little closer and lay down flat on the concrete so I could get a better reach. I knew the ground was probably filthy. Lucky for me I had Ethan’s black hoodie to cover my blouse, but my cream-colored capris would probably be ruined. I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was get Cosmo out of there as safely and quickly as possible.
Mr. Silverthorn said, “How does he look?”
I held the flashlight steady and reached down into my pocket to get a treat, working my fingers along the top of the plastic bag to pry it open. “He looks pretty well fed, actually, which may make this a little harder.” I extracted a cube of cheese between my thumb and forefinger and held it out in front of me, reaching under the Dumpster as far as my arm would go.
I said, “Cosmo … uh, I mean Moses Cosmo Thornwall, I know you’re probably quite satisfied with all those tasty scraps from Butch’s Dumpster, but I was just wondering if I might interest you in a little late-night snack of cheese…?”
For good measure I moved the flashlight over so Cosmo wasn’t blinded by the light, and then my jaw fell wide open.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
There, right in front of my face, was one of Mr. Hoskins’s chocolates, the ones he’d had in the bowl next to the register, the ones wrapped in shiny silver foil with red stripes. I could feel every neuron in my brain shifting into overdrive as I lay there in total silence, trying to explain it … trying to come up with some kind of reasonable explanation.
Mr. Silverthorn said, “Is everything alright?”
I blinked a couple of times. To be honest, I wasn’t sure. It felt like the entire alley was beginning to slowly spin around me. I guess under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have been that unusual to find one of Mr. Hoskins’s chocolates on the ground in the alley behind his store, but this was different. This particular chocolate wasn’t on the ground.
It was in my hand.
I was holding it between my thumb and forefinger.
I said, “I don’t know how this happened, but … I thought I had some cubes of cheese in my pocket, but I don’t. It’s chocolate.”
There was a pause. “Did you say chocolate?”
I instantly thought of Baldy … What you do with chocolate? I had just assumed he’d had a drug-induced dream, but was it possible that he was telling me the truth, that he had actually given me chocolate?
I pulled the plastic bag out of my pocket and pointed the flashlight at it. Sure enough, there were three other chocolates just like it inside. I shook my head. “I must have grabbed the wrong bag or something, but … I have no idea how I got them. They’re the same chocolates from the bookstore.”
I tried to think. I was certain that both times I had visited Baldy at the hospital, I’d left my backpack in the car. In fact, the only time my backpack had been anywhere near him was after the accident, when I’d put it down on the sidewalk next to him. Was it possible he’d secreted these chocolates in my bag when I wasn’t looking? And if so, why?
I heard Mr. Silverthorn take a couple of steps forward. “Here, I’ll take them. Unless this cat shares your weakness for chocolate, I’m afraid we’ll have to try something else.”
I was about to agree when I stopped cold.
Mr. Silverthorn had used that very phrase before, my “weakness for chocolate.” Now that I thought about it, he’d mentioned chocolate the very first time we met, when we spoke briefly on the steps of the mansion. I specifically remembered him saying that Mrs. Silverthorn and I would get along splendidly, because she “also” loved chocolate.
At the time I hadn’t thought much of it, but now, hearing him use that phrase again …
I pushed myself up off the concrete and stood there for a few moments with my back to him, trying to get my bearings. Then I turned and raised the light to his face. He looked completely and utterly confused.
“Miss Hemingway, are you alright? What’s the matter?”
I could feel my heart beating. I said, “Mr. Silverthorn, the first day we met, you told me your wife also liked chocolate. What did you mean by that?”
He frowned slightly and tilted his head to one side. “Pardon me?”
A tiny tremor began bubbling up in my throat, but I forced myself to keep going. “You said she also had a weakness for chocolate…”
He shook his head and shrugged slightly. “My apologies, Miss Hemingway. I certainly didn’t mean to offend you in any way.”
“No, it’s totally fine, I’m just … the thing is … how did you know?”
I could feel the chocolate getting soft in the palm of my hand, and I thought of the crumbling Silverthorn Mansion, struggling to hold on to its former glory, smothered in a thick web of rosary pea vine. Then I saw Baldy’s panic-stricken face as he turned to me in the hospital room and cried, I told you don’t eat!
The glow from the flashlight on Mr. Silverthorn’s face was dim and flickering now, like a dying candle. I tried shaking the flashlight to try to make it brighter, but that only made it go out completely, and now we were standing there in complete darkness.
He said, “Miss Hemingway, I’m afraid I don’t understand. How did I know … what?”
I said, “How did you…” but my words faded away, because I already knew the answer.
I remembered that first evening, after Baldy’s car crash, when I’d gone to Beezy’s Bookstore and met Mr. Hoskins. I was standing in front of the old cash register and the bowl of chocolates on the countertop, and Mr. Hoskins had just returned from the back office, where he’d wrapped my book up in paper and twine. He caught me eyeing the chocolates and offered me one, and I specifically remembered what I said to him.
I said, I have a weakness for chocolate.
It was completely quiet now except for a low droning drumbeat coming from somewhere far away, and then I realized the drumbeat was me. I could literally hear the blood pumping through my ears. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, Mr. Silverthorn gradually came into view, bathed in the pale blue light from the moon overhead. My mind flashed to the old woman in the video, making her way to the bookstore, and then I saw one of Mrs. Silverthorn’s gray wigs.
My voice trembling, I said, “Mr. Silverthorn … where were you the night Mr. Hoskins was murdered?”
There was a long pause. He was about ten feet away. He calmly put the cat carrier down on the ground and then reached into his jacket, and then I saw the gleam of something metal in the moonlight as he raised his arm and pointed a pistol directly at me.
He said, “This is a very unfortunate turn of events.”
A cold tremor crawled up my spine as I felt my breath catch in my throat. I said, “It was you. It was you in the video. You dressed up in your wife’s clothing, and then you put on one of her wigs. You hid somewhere in the store until I left, and then you killed Mr. Hoskins. You killed him for his money.”