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Elle had come out from the backroom just as her plant display toppled over. She’d followed my line of vision and let out a commendable squeak when she saw Harris on the floor.
As I took out my phone and called 911, she waved me behind the counter and away from the body. Unfortunately, we’d had a shared experience with crime scenes before, so we knew not to touch anything, even though everything in me wanted to drape a sheet or something over Huckabee Harris’s pale, white face.
Harris wasn’t my favorite person. I don’t think most people liked him, in fact. He was loud and crude, and he insisted on talking on his flip phone wherever he was, no matter what was going on around him. Two weeks ago, I’d had to ask him to step outside to discuss his bunions instead of carrying on the discussi
