Button Holed by Kylie Logan

Even my favorite coffee wasn’t strong enough to completely order my brain. I took another gulp and shook my head to clear it. “What are you doing here?” I asked Stan. “How did you know?”
    “I was watching TV at home, and all the first report said was something about the body of a woman in a shop on North Wells. I knew you were supposed to be here tonight, and I thought about everything that happened on Monday morning, and well, you know . . .” Stan cleared his throat.
    “Hey, I’m fine.” I grabbed for his hand. “Just a little shaken, that’s all.”
    He kept his poker face firmly in place. “Now, hell . . . As soon as Kate the Great’s name was mentioned, the media went into an uproar! It’s all over the news.” Stan turned and craned his neck, the better to see what was going on in the shop. “I wonder if those bozos in there know what they’re doing. I’d hate to see them mess up an investigation this important.”
    The cops in the shop looked efficient enough to me. But then, before the night of the burglary, the only thing I knew about crimes and investigations was what I’d seen on TV. Now, I watched a couple uniformed officers cordon off the sidewalk outside my shop with yellow tape, while a couple more peered down at Kate’s body, taking notes and making phone calls. A technician bustled by and went inside, kicked aside a couple dozen buttons to make room, and flopped a hard-sided briefcase onto the floor. He popped it open and dug through it.
    I groaned. “More fingerprinting powder. More to clean up.”
    “Makes me wonder who’s in charge.” Shaking his head, Stan got up and walked to the door. “Hey! You need to be careful. Those are Josie’s buttons all over the place, and this is her shop and—”
    “Yes, sir. Thank you for the suggestion.” Just as Stan was about to step into the shop, a cop blocked his path. She was a tiny thing, dark-skinned and as pretty as a model, but there was a glint in her eyes that said she wasn’t about to take any guff. Not from anybody. “We’re being as careful as possible.”
    “Not when those guys in there are bumbling around like they’re wearing concrete shoes.” Stan made a face. “Didn’t they teach you anything at the academy?”
    “Yes, sir. You can be sure they did.”
    “Then you should know that the first thing you need to do—”
    “Yes, sir.” When Stan stepped over the threshold, the cop put out a hand. “You’ll need to go back and sit down,” she said, an edge of iron in her voice. “When the detectives get here, they’ll talk to each of you.”
    “By the time they get here, these guys are going to make a mess of the evidence.” Stan looked past the woman. “Dryer, is that you?” he called, and one of the uniformed cops spun around.
    “Hey, if it isn’t the man leading the life of leisure! Stosh, how’s it going?” My guess was Dryer was nearing retirement himself. He was overweight, and what little hair he had left was as silvery as that swan-head buttonhook used to be. Before it was thrust into Kate Franciscus’s heart and covered with her blood. He put out a hand to shake Stan’s. “What are you doing in a weird place like this?”
    Stan cocked his head in my direction. “She’s a neighbor. And a nice kid. It’s her place. You know, when you’re collecting evidence, you should start—”
    “Great to see you, Stan.” Dryer clapped him on the shoulder. “But you know how it is. You’re a civilian now, and you can’t get involved. You just go sit down and we’ll be with you in a couple minutes.”
    Stan opened his mouth to say something. But since Dryer smoothly back-stepped him onto the sidewalk and closed the door in his face, he never had the chance.
    When Stan came to sit down next to me on the bench, he was grumbling.
    Me? I was grateful someone had finally thought to shut the door. At least now I didn’t have to look at Kate’s body and the mess that was once my life’s