Chapter Twenty-SevenTrevor shielded his eyes against the glare of the sun as he squinted at the sign above the stationery shop. It was one of the few places along the street that still had glass in its display window. A bell above the door tinkled as he stepped inside.
The stocky man behind the counter peered at Trevor above—black horn-rimmed glasses, his face inquisitive. A woman sat at a scarred wooden desk in front of a typewriter, her fingers tapping out a rhythmic beat. “May I help you, sir?”
Holding his identification card up for the man's inspection, Trevor said, “I hope so. I am Detective Inspector Trevor Gelson. I'm looking for Millicent Belvedere, and I believe she works here.”
“I'm afraid not. We haven't seen her since Christmas. She took some time off to visit family, or so
