Short chapter, since I think I'm going to fall asleep with my head on the keyboard. Special thanks to all of my reviewers. Don't worry, I'll stop dilly-dallying and get the blood flowing again soon. Cheers!

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Haydn echoes through the house's stereo system, the soaring strains of 'Benedictus' swell in the confines of the front room. Soft sun shines through the windows as Emily stands beside the piano. Her eyes are focused on the stained glass window, and she is pondering breaking it. She has not been inclined to sit in the pools of light since that morning. Two weeks. Has it really been that long? The remains of poor Rich had been disposed of last week, and she had noted a brief mention of him on the news, only a missing person. Nothing more than a little blurb on the news, then promptly forgotten. The Bay Area had too many other things to worry about than a missing cashier.

Moving away from the piano she trails her fingers along the spines of their collected volumes. She stops at the fifth book on the first shelf, tugging gently at it. Hollowed out, an old copy of Stedman's Shorter Medical Dictionary, Revised and Enlarged. Carrying it to the piano, it is laid on the glossy black surface and opened. Surprise flashes in her eyes upon finding the cavity empty. No. She had put the Harpy back when she had cleaned up the room that day. She had done so after Hannibal had left for the day. She looks again, dropping fingers into the empty cavity to ensure that it is not an illusion. Gone. She glares towards his study upstairs, knowing that it is probably tucked away in there. The book is returned to its spot and she ascends the stairs with a mission.

*****

Never once in her life has Emily been inside a knife shop. She has never had any need to, until now. Clasping her purse close to her she looks over the glass display cases, eyeing the shops wares. She does not see what she wants, and agitation wells up in her. Fortunately, a clerk notices her and comes to stand in front of her, behind the cases.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" He looks at her with soft green eyes, long raven hair pulled into a ponytail that hangs down the back of his neck. She smiles, glad to see that he is polite. Fortunately, she will not have to demonstrate the finer points of manners to him.

"I'm looking for a Spyderco Harpy, if you carry it."

A nod. "Sure. Over here." he leads her to a display case on the other side of the store, reaching for a set of keys in his jeans pocket. "I have to say, you're the first woman I've ever had come in asking for one."

"Oh, it's for my husband, actually. An early birthday gift." she smiled again and watched intently as he slid the door to the case open. The Harpy was closed and he withdrew it, handing it to her. She felt the heft of it in her hand and flicked it open, hoping the practiced ease didn't show too much. For her husband. Really. The man was pointing to the blade with his pinkie of the right hand.

"It's a nice knife, ma'am. The serrated blade cuts well." she nodded along, playing dumb.

"How much?" she closed the blade and passed it back to him, regretting the feel of it leaving her palm.

"I can let you have it for one hundred, with a case."

"Fine. Do you take Visa?"

*****

Emily emerges from the shop with the knife tucked into her purse, and she could feel every ounce of weight it added. She dropped the leather purse into the passenger seat of the Lincoln as she slid in. No sooner than she had done so, the first drop of rain splattered on the windshield. Joy, more rain. She checked the clock on the dash as she pulled into traffic. If she hurried, she could get Mischa from daycare and be home in time for supper. She flipped through the CD case while she idled at a stoplight. As the light turned green, Phantom of the Opera spilled from the speakers.

*****