Page 37 of Ash and Poison

As I continued to take in the room, my eyes caught something that made me wince—a huge glass terrarium filled with spiders. I nearly yelped as a green and blue spider lunged at the glass right in front of me, its tiny legs poised, almost as if it were sizing me up.

“They’re completely harmless,” a voice said from behind me.

I turned to see a tall guy standing there, watching me with a faint smile.

“Jumping spiders,” he said.

“Yours?” I asked.

“No, we’re just looking after them until their owner comes back.”

“Are you telling me… someone keeps them as pets?”

“They’ve got personality. They’re curious.” He flashed me a quick grin. “And they have four eyes. That looks like fun.”

“If you look closer, yu can see they actually have eight eyes.”

Deputy Clark nodded, eyes wide, studying the spiders.

“Right. Eight eyes. Wow.”

“Sorry for the wait,” Vincent said, joining me after a few minutes. “I hope Clark didn’t bore you.”

“No. We were talking about the spiders,” I said. “It’s strange someone keeps them as pets.”

Vincent frowned as he looked at the spiders with a nod before we walked out.

“Something wrong?” I asked. “What about the forensic report?”

“The crime scene is too fucking clean. We found nothing,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. My smile stilled. “Shit, I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“It’s fine, you can talk about it if you want,” I said, with a shrug. I was curious to know more.

“Do you like seafood? Is Tide & Table okay?” Vincent asked, opening his car door for me.

“I love seafood,” I answered, getting in.

“Your car will be safe here. Clark promised to keep an eye on it.”

“Clark seems like a good guy,” I said.

“He is.”

“So you don’t have any leads?” I asked as Vincent started the car.

“I already know who—” I waved a hand, cutting him off.

“We can talk about the case, Vincent, but please don’t ask me to assume anything about my patients,” I said with a wince. He gave me an apologetic grin.

“Fine. I won’t ask you to talk about Asher, but please be careful around him. He’s not…” Vincent said, his voice laced with concern. He was worried for my safety, and of course, his worry wasn’t unwarranted. “He’s not harmless.”

“I can deal with him,” I said as the car came to a halt in front of a small wooden shack.

A board hand-painted with the name Tide & Table was hung on the door with a harpoon. I opened the door for Vincent with a bow, and he smiled as we walked in.

Dim lighting cast a golden glow over the rustic wooden tables and chairs. The walls and racks were adorned with anchors, model boats, and black-and-white photographs of men with their fishes. A soft hum of conversation filled the air, and it stopped when we walked in. Every eye was on us—no, on me.

“Oh…”