Warped (Maurissa Guibord)

watched him from behind the counter, her fingers tapping a pencil on the morning newspaper.
    The man's glance darted toward Tessa. "Is Mr. Brody in?" he said in a gruff voice.
    Tessa nodded and pointed to where her father was occupied with a broom in the far corner of the store. "Dad," she called.
    The man gave her a short nod of thanks and the corners of his mouth pressed inward in a curt, professional smile. But his gaze lingered on Tessa's face. He had pale blue eyes, and there were bags of droopy flesh beneath them that gave him a gloomy expression. He strode past. Tessa wondered if the man could hear the knocking of her knees.
    "Mr. Moncrieff?" said her father. "Hello." He set down a push broom and dustpan and nudged a large paper bag out of the way with one foot. He strode forward, hand extended. "Jackson Brody."
    "Yes. I'm Moncrieff," the lawyer said tersely as they shook hands.
    "I was going to call you this morning," her father began, his tone apologetic, "but I realized I didn't have your number. I'm afraid I've got some bad news."
    "Of what kind, Mr. Brody?" Any trace of a smile, professional or otherwise, evaporated from the lawyer's face. A look of hard suspicion took its place.
    "We had a break-in last night." Tessa's father pointed to a small side window, one that looked out onto the alley. A piece of cardboard was fastened on where the lower pane of glass used to be. "They stole quite a few valuable books," he said. "Including the one from the auction."
    Moncrieff set his case down with a thump. "What?" he said, staring at her father. An angry flush rose in his neck and cheeks. He swiveled to look around the store, and his eyes, now sharp and accusing, raked over Tessa once more. "What the hell are you trying to pull?"
    "Nothing," Jackson Brody replied. "We live upstairs but unfortunately never heard a thing. Came down this morning to find ... well, someone had broken a window, gotten in and robbed us."
    "And you heard nothing?" the lawyer demanded.
    "No," said Tessa's father with a shrug. "It's a large building, and the bedrooms are on the opposite end."
    "But the tapestry," Moncrieff said, glaring. "Where is the tapestry?" His freckled lips worked silently as he waited for the answer. His hands tightened into fists.
    Tessa's father looked taken aback but stayed calm as he replied, "The thieves got that too." He glanced at Tessa. "My daughter packed it up together with the book last night. It was all ready to go."
    "That's right," Tessa said quickly. "I put them in the same packing crate they arrived in. It was sitting right here on the counter." She tried to sound matter-of-fact. Her pencil was still tapping the paper, though maybe a little faster than before. She set it down.
    "You--you're lying!" The lawyer took a step and stopped. He raised a hand to his throat and swallowed.
    "No, he's not!" said Tessa. She jumped up and whipped around the counter to stand next to her father. "It's true. They're gone. It's not my father's fault. It--it's mine. You can tell that to ... Ms. Gerome." She took a deep breath. "The box was here in plain sight. The thieves grabbed it. It's gone. "
    Outside, a police cruiser pulled up.
    Moncrieff's eyes darted around the store and then back to Tessa. They narrowed to watery blue slits. "Where is it?" he repeated. But his words were thick and seemed to come out with difficulty.
    "Stolen, like we told you," said her father.
    "They're gone," Tessa said, trying to keep her own voice steady. She gestured to the window and the police car outside. "The police are here to investigate. You can stay and give them details if you want, about the book and the tapestry." She looked the man straight in the eye. The lawyer frowned at Tessa, then stepped toward the storefront window and peered out. He eyed the police officer who was getting out of the cruiser. Moncrieff gave a dismissive snort and seemed about to say something when suddenly he stopped, his eyes fixed on something else outside. Slowly he shook his head no.
    All at once the lawyer's face contorted. His neck bulged. His pale blue eyes looked huge and glassy, like marbles, as he glared back at Tessa. "You--you have no idea what she'll do." A stream of saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
    "Now, look here--" Jackson said, frowning. His expression turned to alarm. "Hey, Mr. Moncrieff. Are you okay?"
    Moncrieff backed away, snatching a handkerchief from his suit coat pocket to mop his mouth. He made a sickening