Page 3 of The Sole Suspect
“That, and his promises to ‘modernize’ the area. Mr. Tang and Mrs. Henderson are worried about getting priced out of the neighborhood. I’m sure they’re not the only ones.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. My rent’s already squeezing me dry.” Penny slumped deeper into his chair. “You’re lucky you own your building.”
“For now. But even I’m feeling the pinch. I still have to pay the Ground Lease and the Heritage Rental Fee—not to mention utilities. Had to raise my prices on resoles last week just to cover the cost of leather.”
“Speaking of prices...” Penny wrapped the delicate chain of his necklace around one finger with deliberate slowness. “That window replacement must have cost a fortune.”
I paused mid-ripping my napkin in half. “Insurance covered most of it. Still had to pay the deductible though.”
“And you’re sure it wasn’t just some drunk college kid?”
The tattered napkin crumpled in my hand. “Drunk college kids don’t usually attach threatening notes to their bricks.”
“True.” Penny leaned forward, his chair creaking.
Around us, the lunchtime crowd streamed in and out of the Hideaway, their chatter mingling with the hiss of the espresso machine and the clinking of ceramic mugs against saucers. A barista called out drink orders over the din while the scent of fresh-baked scones wafted from behind the counter.
“So,” Penny ventured, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “How are you holding up? You know, since... the incident?”
I forced a smile. “I’m okay. The initial shock has worn off, at least.”
Penny nodded, fidgeting with his napkin. “It’s just... I couldn’t help but notice. Mr. Steele hasn’t been around since that night, has he?”
My throat tightened. The memory of Dominic’s hands on my skin, his lips on mine, flashed through my mind. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. How could I tell Penny about my momentary lapse in judgment?
“I—” I began, but the words died on my tongue as Sarah appeared, balancing our steaming mugs, two sandwiches, and Penny’s coveted lavender scone.
“Here we are,” she announced, breaking the tension. “Enjoy, you two.”
I seized my coffee, grateful for the distraction. Some secrets weren’t ready to be shared—even with my closest friend.
As we ate, I couldn’t help but notice the increased foot traffic outside. Groups of people moved from shop to shop, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.
“Is it just me, or does something feel... off?” I asked Penny, my eyes still on the street.
Penny followed my gaze. “Now that you mention it, there does seem to be more people than usual. And they look kind of... agitated?”
We finished our lunch quickly, a sense of urgency propelling us back onto the street. As we rounded the corner onto Main Street, the source of the commotion became clear.
Campaign posters, which had decorated the storefronts just hours ago, now bore crude, angry graffiti in black and red spray paint. Adelaide Fairfax’s smiling face was obliterated, her slogan crossed out and replaced with vulgar messages.
“Oh my god,” Penny gasped beside me.
I moved closer to one of the defaced posters, my heart racing as I took in the jagged lines and aggressive strokes. The style, the colors... they were eerily similar to the graffiti painted on Rosie’s shop and the threatening note I’d received two months ago.
The acrid smell of spray paint lingered in the air, mixing with the cacophony of scents emanating from the gathering crowd. I pulled out my phone, documenting the vandalism with shaking hands.
“Leo,” Penny’s voice was uncharacteristically serious. “This... this isn’t just election hijinks, is it?”
I shook my head, my throat tight. “No, I don’t think it is. This feels... personal.”
As I snapped photos, my mind raced. Who would do this? And why? Was it connected to the threats Rosie and I had received? To the larger forces at play in Millcrest?
“We need to report this to the police,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
Penny nodded, his usual exuberance replaced by grim determination. “Do you think it’s connected to... you know, what happened before?”
I hesitated, not wanting to voice my suspicions out loud. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”