Page 18 of In Her Bed
Chief Morgan’s posture changed instantly, transformed into a strange, almost predatory alertness.
“Well, if it isn’t Mickey Guest,” Morgan called out, his voice carrying a forced joviality that immediately put Jenna on edge.“What a surprise seeing you here.”
The man—Mickey—froze momentarily, then attempted a casual smile that looked more like a grimace.
“Chief Morgan,” he acknowledged, his gaze flicking between the officers.“Just doing some shopping.”
Morgan stepped closer, invading Mickey’s personal space.“Let me introduce my colleagues.This is Sheriff Graves from Genesius County, Deputy Hawkins, and Colonel Spelling from the State Highway Patrol.”
Mickey nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.“Nice to meet you all.”
“How long has it been now, Mickey?Two months since you got sprung from the joint?”Morgan asked, in a pose of casual interest that fooled no one.
“Three,” Mickey corrected, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“That’s right.Three months.Any luck finding honest work?”Morgan’s emphasis on “honest” wasn’t subtle.
Jenna observed the exchange closely.Mickey’s body language screamed discomfort—averted eyes, hands that couldn’t decide where to rest, the slight backward lean of someone who wanted to run.
“I’ve got some prospects,” Mickey mumbled, his eyes now fixed on a point beyond Morgan’s shoulder.
“I bet you do,” Morgan replied knowingly.
Something flashed in Mickey’s eyes—fear, Jenna thought.Not the generalized anxiety of an ex-con encountering law enforcement, but something specific and immediate.
“I should get going,” Mickey said, already edging sideways.“Got an appointment.”
“Don’t let us keep you.”Morgan’s smile never reached his eyes.“We should catch up sometime.I’m always interested in your...business ventures.”
Mickey gave a jerky nod, then walked away with hurried steps that fell just short of running.Jenna watched him go, noting the way he glanced back twice before turning the corner.
“What was that about?”Spelling asked Morgan once Mickey was out of earshot.
Morgan’s eyes remained fixed on the spot where Mickey had disappeared.“Maybe nothing.Maybe everything.”
“That’s not an answer,” Jenna pressed.
Morgan turned to her, his expression unreadable.“Let’s just say Mr.Guest has a talent for acquiring items that don’t belong to him, and an even greater talent for finding buyers who don’t ask questions.”
Morgan nodded.“One of the best thieves in three counties.But proving it...”He shrugged.“That’s another matter entirely.”
The bell above the shop door jingled as the four of them entered Golden Legend Treasures.
The interior was even more chaotic than the windows had suggested.Every available surface bore some relic of the past—shelves lined with antique books, glass cases filled with jewelry and watches, tables piled with cameras, typewriters, radios, and phonographs.Mannequin torsos draped in vintage clothing stood between larger furniture pieces.
The air held the distinctive scent of old things—musty paper, aged wood, the metallic tang of tarnished silver.The room felt small, an effect created by the sheer volume of merchandise crammed into every corner.Jenna could see that Golden Legend Treasures was a shop with a reputation that matched its name only in the sense that its contents were old.Whether they were treasures remained to be seen.
Behind a glass counter at the rear stood a short man, with thinning hair combed carefully over a balding crown.His eyes were sharp and assessing, taking in the four visitors with a shopkeeper’s practiced evaluation of potential customers.His expression shifted when he spotted the local police chief.
“Chief Morgan,” Lynch said, his smile too wide and too quick.“What brings you in today?Looking for a gift for the missus?”
“Not exactly, Harris,” Morgan replied, stepping forward.“I’m here with Sheriff Graves, Deputy Hawkins, and Colonel Spelling.They’re investigating a homicide.”
Lynch’s smile dimmed slightly.“A homicide?That’s terrible.But I’m not sure how I could help.”
Jenna stepped forward, studying Lynch’s face.His expression was open, even unconcerned, but there was a calculation behind his eyes, an awareness that didn’t match his words.
“We’re investigating the murder of Marcus Derrick,” she said, watching carefully for his reaction.“His name mean anything to you?”
