Prose and Cons: Luxe paperback

“I’m afraid I’m not here for a book, Mina.” Hayes nodded to Wilson, who held up a pair of handcuffs and slapped them gleefully over Morrie’s wrists. “We’re here to arrest James Moriarty on suspicion of murder.”

“What?” That’s… not possible. “Murder?”

Morrie glanced between the two officers. The corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve got handcuffs in my room lined with velvet. They’re so much more sensual than those old things. I’ll wait here while you grab them, and then we—”

Sergeant Wilson shoved him toward the door. “James Moriarty, you do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court—”

“Oooh, is the judge going to bang her gavel and tell me I’ve been a naughty boy?” Morrie purred. “Kinky.”

“Don’t say anything,” I hissed at Morrie. Heathcliff, Quoth, and I barreled down the stairs and crowded into the hall. Heathcliff blocked the door while I threw my arms around Morrie and glared at Hayes (or the large, broad-shouldered blob I thought was Hayes. We hadn’t turned on any lamps downstairs, so now that Heathcliff blocked the only light, all I could make out were shadows). “You have to tell us what’s going on. We caught the garroter, so why—”

“This isn’t about the garrotings.” Hayes’ voice was grave. “Mr. Moriarty is our lead suspect in the death of Kate Danvers.”

“Who in the blazes is that?” Heathcliff’s voice bellowed across the room. Tension rolled off his body – a palpable rage simmering in the room. I knew if we didn’t get answers soon he’d go Full Metal Heathcliff and all that would be left of the inspectors would be bits of organs stuck to the ceiling.

“We don’t have to explain ourselves to you.” Wilson shoved Morrie toward the door. She tried to step around Heathcliff’s bulk but ended up pressing Morrie into a shelf. Stacks of books cascaded down on us. “As much as you love to meddle in murders, we’re the detectives here, and we say Mr. Moriarty’s coming with us.”

Heathcliff’s shoulders tensed, and for a moment I seriously feared for all our lives. With a roar, he
flung himself aside, giving Wilson a clear path. “He’s innocent, and we’ll fight this.”

Heathcliff’s words dripped with menace, and through my fear, I felt a jolt of hope. Ever since their fraught kiss, Heathcliff had distanced himself from Morrie. I knew Heathcliff felt something for Morrie, but his Heathcliff-ness meant he wouldn’t acknowledge or give into it. Instead, he raged and sulked and became a complete shit until he drove Morrie away so then he wouldn’t have to deal with it.

But right now, he was ready to fight for Morrie. He might not be able to articulate his feelings, but he was a slave to them. Heathcliff didn’t know a thing about control, about hiding things that were ugly or scary or uncomfortable. He just was. And right now he was ready for a homicidal rampage on Morrie’s behalf, and that said more than all the sweet nothings he might’ve whispered in Morrie’s ear.

But it wasn’t enough. We weren’t at Wuthering Heights. This was the real world. The police were taking Morrie away, and we couldn’t do a thing about it. A shiver ran down my spine. Why are they taking Morrie? Why are they so certain he killed this Kate woman?

Nevermore Bookshop Mysteries
Book 1 - A Dead and Stormy Night
Book 2 - Of Mice and Murder
Book 3 - Pride and Premeditation
Book 4 - Memoirs of a Garroter
Book 5 - Prose and Cons
Book 6 - A Novel Way to Die
Book 7 - Much Ado About Murder
Book 8 - Crime and Publishing
Book 9 - Plot and Bothered
Novella - How Heathcliff Stole Christmas