Page 86 of Southernmost Murder

My bespectacled friend appeared on the screen a moment later. “Aren’t you on vacation?” was the first thing he asked.

“What do you know about buttons?” I blurted out.

“Buttons? Can you move somewhere where the light isn’t making you glow like an alien?”

I looked around and ducked under a sapodilla. “Better?”

“Yes.” Sebastian pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Buttons keep your pants from falling down.”

“You dick.”

“I thought I was your cutie?” he countered.

“Monogram buttons,” I replied, holding up the one in my hand. “See it?”

Sebastian leaned close to his screen, squinting. I felt kind of bad for asking him to decipher what he probably couldn’t see very well, since his eyesight was pretty poor, but random button knowledge was him, not me. At least I hoped.

“What’re the initials?” he asked.

“TJS.”

Sebastian sat back, shrugging. “Does that mean something to you?” He picked up a cup from the desk and took a sip.

“It does,” I replied.

“What’s the condition?”

I stared at the button. “I’d guess it was a replica.”

“Then what’s it matter?”

“My skeleton fiasco hangs in the balance of this button,” I said, sounding way too snippy. “I’m having a hell of a day. I just need your help.”

“Where’s Jun?”

“Long story.”

“Are you two—”

“We’re okay, I swear,” I interrupted.

Sebastian hesitated for a beat. “Monogram buttons were popular on men’s suits and outer coats. Usually black with the initials in color.”

“Period?”

Sebastian rubbed at his bristly chin. “1870s?”

My heart skipped a beat. “Positive?”

“Mostly. It’s not like I’ve read every book there is on nineteenth century fashion. I can look into it further if you wanted me to.”

“No, it’s not necessary. You’ve made me very happy,” I said, finally smiling that morning.

“You won’t be after receiving my consultation bill.”

Chapter Fifteen

I STOODat the back of the property, stared up at the house, and shielded my eyes from the late-afternoon sun. There were no windows on the third-floor study. Not on this end. The front, sure. Every room had at least one window that overlooked Whitehead Street. But back here, there was no window in the study with a view of the garden.