Authors: Melissa Glazer
He started back to his patrol car when I asked, “So, what are you going to do about this?”
He shook his head. “It was a prank gone bad, Carolyn. Don’t be so paranoid.”
“Then why did they hit my shop and not Rose Colored Glasses or Hattie’s Attic?”
“Like I said, you were just lucky, I guess,” he answered, then got into his car and drove away.
Yeah, right. Then why didn’t I feel all that lucky? I hated to do it, but I had to call Bill. He’d want to know, and besides, I could get his advice on what to do about the insurance claim. My business did pretty well—at least it had before the murder—but I couldn’t afford an increase in my premiums.
He answered on the ninth ring. I said, “Honey, it’s me.”
“Where are you? I thought you were still in bed with me.” Bill’s voice was groggy, and in my mind I could see him sitting up in bed rubbing his eyes.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I came down to the shop to pay some bills. Bill, I need you to focus. Are you awake?”
“Of course I am. I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” Then a chill hit his voice. “Carolyn, are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but somebody threw a brick through the front window of my shop.”
“Were you hurt?” No doubt about it, he was awake now, the poor dear.
“I’m fine, but I’ve got a mess on my hands. Can you come down here?”
“I’ll be there in three minutes. Call the police.”
“I already did. They’ve come and gone.”
“What did they say?”
“Hodges thinks it was a random act of vandalism.”
“That blamed fool wouldn’t know a crime if it happened in his living room.”
“I’d be happy to discuss this with you when you get here, but can it wait till then? I’m freezing.”
“Of course it can.” He hung up without saying goodbye, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him beside me so I could deal with this violation of my business without worrying that someone was still out there in the shadows, watching the entire thing unfold.
“Thank God you’re all right,” my husband said as he hugged me close. I’d held myself rigid until he’d arrived, but the moment he wrapped his arms around me, I melted.
I was just about to say something sweet to him when he added, “What in the world were you thinking, coming down here by yourself in the middle of the night? Have you lost your mind?”
Suddenly his embrace wasn’t all that warm. I pulled away from him. “It’s nearly 6
A.M
.. On what planet is that the middle of the night? I had work to do here, and since I couldn’t sleep, I decided to get an early start.”
“Why didn’t you at least wake me up? I’d have come down here with you.”
“Because I don’t need a chaperone, an escort, or a bodyguard,” I snapped. “I left you a note.”
I could see in his eyes that he knew he’d pushed me too far. “Okay, take it easy. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.”
“I was in the back room, Bill. That brick couldn’t have hit me unless it had been shot out of a cannon.”
“I’m not talking about the brick. I’m talking about the lunatic who threw it. What if he had more on his mind than shattering your storefront window?”
I didn’t want to think about that, and I was saved from answering when a familiar car drove up. It was Butch Hardcastle in a brand new Cadillac, and I wondered yet again if the driver had fully given up his life of crime. Butch nodded to Bill as he entered the shop, then looked at me intently. “I don’t see any cuts or scrapes. You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “How did
you
hear about what happened?”
“I’ve got a police scanner by my bed,” he said. “It helps me sleep at night.”
“Is that the only reason you have it on?” I asked.
“Why else?” He dismissed me and turned to my husband. “Were you with her when this happened?”
“No, she didn’t wake me up when she left the house.”
I could see Butch’s expression darken, but I wasn’t about to listen to another lecture. “Before you say a word, I’m a grown woman, and I won’t change my life because of what happened to Betty Wickline. This window would have been shattered whether I’d been here or not. Who knows, I may have stopped a robbery when I turned on the light.”
Butch shook his head. “No offense, Carolyn, but what is there here that’s worth stealing? Don’t get me wrong, I love this place, but it wouldn’t be at the top of my list of establishments to rob. If I was still in the business, I mean.”
“Where would you hit first?” Bill asked.
“That’s an interesting question. I’ve thought about it some—just idle speculation, if you know what I mean—but I think I’d hit Balmark’s.”
“The sporting-goods store? I thought the jewelry store or the bank would be your first choice.”
Butch said, “No, they have pretty sophisticated alarms, and some heavy-duty security systems. Too tough to crack as a one-man job. I’d go to Balmark’s and wait in the bathroom just before they closed. There’s a drop ceiling in there, and after the employees were gone, I’d fill up a few bags of their pricier stuff, hit their joke of a safe in back, and still be home before midnight.”
“Wow, I would never have thought of that.”
He shrugged, and managed to hide most of his pride. “It takes a professional to look at these things with a seasoned eye.”
“If you two are finished with your larcenous daydreams, I need help cleaning this mess up.”
“We were just talking,” Bill said. “I thought you were going to call Bob?” Bob Davis was our insurance agent, a man who was still mostly a boy. Bob had taken over the business from his father, and I wasn’t at all sure being an insurance agent was what Bob wanted to be when he grew up.
“You don’t want to call him,” Butch said. “I know a guy who owes me a favor. We can have this glass replaced before you open, and he’ll do it for half the price anybody else in the county would charge.”
“I don’t want you to use your connections on my account,” I said. Even to my ears, my words sounded a little stuffy.
“No, this is legit. I helped the guy out with a problem he had, and now it’s his turn to do me a favor.”
“What did you do, beat somebody up for him?” Bill asked.
Butch laughed. “You’ve been watching too much late-night TV. One of his employees was stealing from him, so he asked for my help. I had the guy pegged in twenty minutes. He was a real amateur. Just let me make a call.”
Butch stepped away from us as he pulled out his cell phone. “I’m not sure about this,” I told Bill.
“The man wants to help. You should let him.”
I punched my husband’s shoulder lightly. “And you. What was with all that burglary talk? Are you thinking about taking up a new hobby?”
“I don’t get out much,” he said. “You’ve got this shop where you meet lots of people, but since I retired, I spend most of my time in my workshop by myself.”
“You could always come work for me.”
He put one hand behind his ear and said, “Listen, do you hear that?”
“What?” I couldn’t hear a thing.
“Unless you hear oinks coming from the sky and pigs are up there doing barrel rolls, don’t look for me to sign on.”
“David says I’m a good boss,” I said, a little hurt by his comment.
“You’re a better wife,” he said. “I don’t think we could stand being around each other twenty-four hours a day.”
I laughed. “You’re probably right. Let’s get this mess cleaned up before Butch’s friend gets here.”
I reached for the brick, but my hand hesitated of its own accord. Was I honestly afraid to touch it? Bill must have been watching me. “Let me get that.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said as I retrieved it. Instead of throwing it into the trash can—which had been my intent—I carried it back and put it on my desk. If I needed a spur to find out who had murdered Betty Wickline, the brick would serve as a constant reminder.
Bill had donned a pair of my thick, insulated gloves and was putting the biggest shards of glass into an empty box. “I’ve just about got the big stuff taken care of.”
I joined him and picked out the pottery pieces that hadn’t been ruined by the brick or the shattering glass. My ornaments were nearly unbreakable, but I was afraid I couldn’t say that about the rest of the pieces I’d had on display. Two of the dishes Robert Owens had made were broken beyond repair, and David’s face jug was shattered. Oddly enough, Martha’s vase was fine. I collected the shards of the broken pieces and set them aside. They’d live again in mosaics, but I hated to see the destruction. All at once, I was angry again at whoever had done this.
“Trouble?” Butch asked as he walked back to me.
“No, I just hate to see such waste.”
“Yeah, it’s a real shame.” His expression brightened. “I’ve got good news. Jim Hickman will be out here in ten minutes to get some measurements, and the new window’s as good as in. Can I buy you two some breakfast in the meantime?”
“No, I have to stay with the store. Thank you, Butch. I really appreciate your help.”
“Hey, it’s the least I can do. Well, if you’re sure you two don’t need me, I’ve got something I need to take care of.”
Bill looked at his watch. “This early in the morning?”
Butch put a finger to his lips, and Bill nodded. After he was gone, I asked my husband, “What was that about?”
“I don’t know, but to be honest with you, I was kind of afraid to ask.”
“Butch has a kind heart.”
Bill nodded. “He seems like a good guy, but I wouldn’t want him mad at me.”
I grinned. “Then be good to me.”
“I don’t need to be threatened to do that.”
“I know you don’t.”
Butch was as good as his word, and when I saw his friend’s quote for a new window, I wished I’d hugged him before he left.
After Mr. Hickman had gone to get the glass and a helper to install it, Bill said, “I’m hungry.”
“Then go eat.” My stomach had been rumbling, too, but there was no way I could leave my place unguarded. I wrapped my coat tighter around me and turned the heat up yet again. My small gas furnace couldn’t touch the chilly temperature in the shop, but at least it might keep some of my supplies from freezing solid until the window was installed.
“I’m not leaving here without you.” The stubbornness was thick in his voice, and I knew it was pointless to argue with him.
Five minutes later, a van pulled up, and I felt Bill tense beside me. What was this about? To my surprise, a harried young man popped out of the driver’s side and handed us two bags and a tray holding two cups.
“What’s this?” I asked as I accepted the offering.
“Breakfast from O’Daniel’s,” he said.
“But we didn’t order anything.”
“That’s okay, it’s taken care of.” He glanced at the bill, then added, “A Mr. Hardcastle arranged it.”
Under that gruff exterior, Butch really was a softy.
Bill and I took the food inside and ate at one of the work tables. In an odd sort of way it was fun, kind of like an arctic picnic. As we finished eating, I said, “We should do this more often.”
“What, get vandalized, then sit around in the freezing cold waiting for repairs?”
I threw a wadded-up napkin at him. “Don’t be silly. I mean have picnics like we used to do when we were dating.”
He grinned at me. “I never told you this, but the reason we had so many picnics was because I couldn’t afford to take you out anywhere. I figured if I raided my folks’ pantry, it would be a cheap date.”
“And here I thought I married a romantic.”
“You did,” he said. “Just not a rich one.”
“I feel rich enough, thank you very much.”
The window was installed twenty minutes before it was time to open, and Bill hadn’t left my side, though his fidgeting was starting to drive me crazy.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I told him, “but don’t you have somewhere else to be? Anywhere else?”
“You tired of me already?”
I patted his arm. “I appreciate you staying with me, but I’m fine. Honestly.”
He nodded. “Okay, I can take a hint. I’ll go.”
I hugged him again, then kissed him soundly. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Don’t worry, as long as I have any say about it, you won’t have to.”
“I can’t believe I missed all of the excitement,” David said when he came in ten minutes after Bill left. “Why didn’t you call me, Carolyn?”
“I had enough people here as it was,” I said. “There wasn’t anything you could do to help.”
“Did you at least take a picture?”
“I suppose you could ask the police for one, if you really want to see the carnage. They took dozens of photographs.” There must have been something cutting in my voice, because he looked at me as if he’d just been slapped.
“I’m sorry, Carolyn, I was just curious.”
Wonderful; just because I was aggravated over the attack, I had no excuse for taking it out on David. “I know you were. Forgive me if I’m a little on edge.”
“You should be happy about this,” he said.
Was the boy on some kind of medication? “Which part should make me glad, the bill I just got for the replacement window, or the pottery pieces that were destroyed?”
“I’m talking about the reason the window was broken in the first place. You must have hit a nerve with somebody yesterday for them to try to scare you off so dramatically.”
“And wouldn’t it be nice if I knew which one I tweaked?” He was right, but without any idea of who had done it, I was back where I’d started.
Herman Meadows walked in and scowled at the window as he approached me. “I’m not paying for this,” he said. “It’s your responsibility as the tenant.”
“I’ve already got it covered,” I said as sweetly as I could. I’d wondered when my landlord would show up, and he hadn’t disappointed me with his promptness.
“Carolyn, are you going to take this as a warning and stop nosing around in this murder thing?”
I was so happy to have somebody agree with me besides David, I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I’ve been telling everyone this was a warning, but no one would believe me.”
“I believe you,” my assistant said sullenly.
Herman wiped his cheek with a blue bandana. “Have you completely lost your mind? I tell you that some maniac is trying to scare you off, and you kiss me!”
“I’ll be careful,” I said. “I promise.”
“But will you stop?”
“Not on your life. I’m going to find out who killed Betty Wickline.”
“Or die trying,” he added.
“I certainly hope not, but I do appreciate your concern. Thanks for stopping by.”
He looked at the window again, then said, “They did a good job, and fast, too. Who did you use?”
“Jim Hickman.”
He shook his head. “He’s good all right, but it’s going to cost you a fortune.”
I was tempted to tell him about the deal Butch had gotten me, but then I decided to keep that to myself, since Jim had done it as a favor. “I’m willing to pay it to have a window.”
He nodded his approval. “That’s why I love having you as a tenant. You understand the way things work.”
After he left, I was rearranging the front window display when I heard a hard tap on the glass. As I looked up, I hoped that Jim Hickman had secured the window safely in place.
It was Robert Owens, the errant potter from North Carolina, and from the scowl on his face, I could tell that something other than my display skills was troubling him. Robert’s unruly brown hair was as ruffled as ever. He was a tall, thin man with a potter’s thin, wiry fingers, and with that artistic brooding he sported, I doubted many of the coeds at Travers could resist him.
When he walked in, he snapped, “What happened, Carolyn? That was supposed to be a set. I told you that I don’t sell my pieces individually.”
“That’s fine with me,” I said. “I’ll pull the rest of your pieces from the display.” I couldn’t believe the tone of voice he was taking with me after the morning I’d had. “Do you want the shards from the broken pieces, too?”
“Shards?” he screamed. “You broke some of my pottery?”
“I didn’t; the brick coming through the plate-glass window this morning did.”
That certainly got his attention. “Why would somebody throw a brick through your window? Do you think they were targeting my pottery?”
This guy’s ego was unbelievable. “I’m sure that’s it. It probably doesn’t have anything at all to do with the murder the other night.”
He looked as though his eyes were going to pop right out of his skull. “Murder? Who was murdered?”
“Betty Wickline,” I said. “You got to know her pretty well in the few weeks you’ve been in town, didn’t you?” Okay, it was a total stab in the dark, and a mean thing to say at that, but I didn’t appreciate him jumping down my throat.
For a split second, I thought he was going to cry. Then he reined in his expression before I could even be sure I’d seen it. “I knew her but not all that well. Who do the police suspect?”
“I’m pretty high on their list,” I admitted, “but then again, so is anybody who has a key to the place, including you.”
“I was in North Carolina,” he said hastily. “Surely the police can’t suspect me.”
“Robert, you don’t know our sheriff. If I were you, I’d line up an alibi, and I’d do it pretty darn fast.”
He scowled. “I don’t owe you an explanation or an alibi, either.”
“Hey, I’m not the one asking. I just thought I’d give you a heads-up. You do still have the key I gave you, don’t you?”
He looked down at his hands. “Actually, I lost it just before I left town. It was on my key ring, I would swear to that, but when I checked before going back to Carolina, I noticed that it was gone.”
How convenient for him. “And you didn’t think to call me so I could change the lock?”
“There was no time,” he said. “I had to leave in a hurry.”
I don’t know what he was expecting, but I doubt it was the broad smile I gave him.
He asked, “Why the smile?”
“I can’t wait to hear you tell Sheriff Hodges that you lost your key. Do me a favor, call him now, would you? I’m willing to bet he’ll trot right over here to meet you.”
Robert shook his head. “If he wants to talk to me, he can track me down himself. I didn’t have anything to do with the murder.”
“I hope for your sake that’s true.” He started for the door, and I called out, “Hey, where are you going?”
“I’ve got a class to teach at Travers. Could I have another key, please?”
I had to hand it to him, the man had nerve. “I could give you one, but it wouldn’t do you any good. I’m having the locks changed today.” I’d wanted it done yesterday, but Clara Harper had been on vacation, and she was the only locksmith I trusted with my place.
“Fine, but I expect to have another key if I’m going to be teaching here.”
“I’m sure you do,” I said. I wasn’t at all sure I wanted Robert Owens on my staff anymore, but I didn’t need to decide his fate at that moment.
After he’d gone, I pulled the rest of his pieces from the display per his request, though it was really out of spite more than anything else. I didn’t know who he thought he was, but I wasn’t about to let him use that tone of voice with me, certainly not in my own shop. I sighed wistfully as I moved the last intact dishes to a back rack. Why couldn’t David come up with a glaze that danced like Robert Owens’s work did? I didn’t doubt in time he’d do just that, but for now, my display case had a hole that needed to be filled. I searched through the inventory in our little gallery for something worthy of the window, but nothing grabbed my eye. I couldn’t leave it like that, though. Then I had an idea. Why replace it at all? I took some white cardboard from the back, scrawled out a note in my most stylish handwriting style, then propped the sign up in place of Robert’s dishes.
David was standing outside as I put it in place, and he was smiling as he came in. “That’s a cool idea. I love it.”
“Thanks.” In black Sharpie, I’d written, “Imagine Your Work Here” on the placard. I walked outside to study it and was quite happy with the results. It might even bring some customers back into my shop, something I hadn’t been able to accomplish with much success since the murder.
“So what’s the verdict? Are you going to keep digging into Betty Wickline’s murder?”
“No, for a change of pace, let’s try to get some folks in here and paint some pottery.”
“Sounds good to me,” he said.
Now, if I could just figure out how to do that. It was too soon to offer the local schools another deal. It would be hard to get most adults here in the middle of the day, but there was a group I hadn’t tapped yet, one I’d been aching to try to get into my place. I picked up the phone and dialed.
“Maple Ridge Center,” a cultured woman’s voice said after only one ring.
“Maggie Hicks,” I replied. Maggie was the director at the senior center, and a friend since she’d first moved to town when we’d been in the second grade.
“One moment, please,” the woman said, and I was put on hold, listening to Muzak that put my teeth on edge. Thankfully Maggie didn’t keep me waiting long.
“Hello, Maggie Hicks.”
Disguising my voice, I said, “Dearie, would you put me back on hold? They were playing the most delightful tune.”
Maggie paused, then said, “Certainly.”
Before I could tell her I was joking, she put me on hold again. I couldn’t take another second of the watered-down pap, so I hung up and hit the redial button on my phone.
After the elegant voice identified the center again, I lied. “I got cut off. Could you give me Maggie’s office again?”
“Certainly,” she said. Now how on earth had she managed to sound skeptical of my explanation with just one word?
“Maggie Hicks.”
“Don’t hang up, and for God’s sake, whatever you do, don’t put me on hold again.”
My friend whooped with delight. “That was you? How funny. The music’s dreadful, isn’t it? I’ve been trying to get the owners to change it to something more contemporary, but they actually claim to like it. Can you imagine?”
That was Maggie, or Mile-a-Minute Maggie, as we’d called her in school. “Honestly? No. Listen, I need a favor.”
“Spill. I heard about your front window at the shop. What’s the world coming to?”
I didn’t need to ask her how she’d heard. Maple Ridge had a backdoor communications community that would put the CIA to shame. I’d been counting on the gossip hot-line to give me more than it had about Betty Wickline. The woman must have been an operative herself; she was that good at hiding her tracks.
“I couldn’t honestly say, but at least I got a new window, so I don’t have to knock the icicles off the pottery anymore. How squeamish would some of your folks be to come down here to the scene of a murder? I’ll give them half off my regular group rates just to fill the place up again. If you’d rather not bring it up, that’s fine with me, too. I understand completely.”
“Come on, Carolyn, I’d be delighted to ask around. Could it be today? We were supposed to have a sing-along with Penny Pladgett, but the poor thing broke a hip and she’s back in the hospital.”
“Today sounds great,” I said. “And you don’t think they’ll mind about the murder?”
“Are you kidding me? Some of them will probably come because of it. How soon should we be there, and how many can you take?”
We could handle twenty-four adults, but I wanted to keep it below our maximum. “How about twenty? You can make it any time, just give me half an hour’s notice.”
“You’ve got it. I’ll call you back in a minute.”
David had been eavesdropping on the tail end of my phone call, and as I hung up, he was smiling. “That’s one way to get a full house.”
“I know you don’t approve of discounts, but I need to see some faces here, you know? It’s been entirely too long since we’ve heard the sound of laughter.”
“Hey, I’m all for it,” he said. “I couldn’t agree with you more. What shall we pull out, the saucer collection?” We normally reserved the mass-produced saucers for our group discounts.
“What the heck, let’s splurge and bring out the mugs.” We bought them wholesale from a supplier in New Hampshire, but even with our deep discount, we’d still have trouble breaking even on what I was charging Maggie.
“Let’s not go overboard,” David said. I swear, sometimes he watched the bottom line closer than I did.
“What do you suggest?”
“We’ve got that order of salad plates we haven’t used. Why not pull them out?”
“Fine, that’s probably a better idea. Let’s set things up, shall we?”
We’d just laid out the glazes and brushes at each station when the telephone rang. “Carolyn? Hey, it’s Maggie. I’ve got twenty-two. Is that okay? I didn’t have the heart to tell anyone they couldn’t come.”
“That’s fine. When are you coming?”
“As soon as we can load the bus, if you don’t mind.”
“Bring them on,” I said.
It would be great having some activity in Fire at Will again, something that had nothing to do with Betty Wickline’s murder.
The place was a wreck after the seniors left, but David and I were both smiling. They’d been full of energy and had a thousand questions for us. Most of the women had responded to David with broad smiles, something that had obviously embarrassed him a little. I felt a bit like a girl myself as four of the men took turns flirting with me.
“That was fun,” I said as David and I wiped the tables.
“Where do they get the energy? I’m worn out.”
“They’re full of life, aren’t they?”
David nodded. “If it’s okay with you, after we clean up, I’m going to lunch.”
“Are you that hungry?” I glanced at the clock and saw that David was an hour early for his break.
“No, I’m going to go out to my car and take a nap! If I don’t show up in an hour, come wake me up.”
My stomach rumbled a little after David left, and I wished I’d asked him to hang around until I could grab something and bring it back to eat. I thought about calling somebody from the Firing Squad to pick up something for me, but I didn’t want to talk about the murder, and I was sure whoever I called would want to discuss it. I still had a rosy glow from the seniors’ visit, and I didn’t want to tarnish it with a discussion about the homicide.
I’d just about come to terms with my growling stomach when I saw a friendly face peering in through the front window, with a take-out bag from Shelly’s Café in her hand.
“Have you eaten yet? I took a chance and ordered for two.”