A Wee Murder in My Shop (A ScotShop Mystery)

by Fran Stewart

  “Oh. Yeah.” Stupid me, why hadn’t I thought of that? I added another number to my list. “So we have some stars, but we don’t know how many, and a 9944.”

  Harper put his index finger on the paper. “We have blank lines above and below the stars. Something must go in those spaces.”

  “Yeah, but why wouldn’t they give us a clue?”

  “Mayhap they have.” Dirk reached across my shoulder and pointed to the number four and then ran his hand down to the one. “Four,” he said, “blank line, blank line, one.” He spread his hands.

  “Oh, yeah!”

  “Did you see something?”

  “What is it?”

  I had a brief vision of my high school algebra teacher talking about progressions, drumming them into our thick heads. “It’s a negative progression,” I said, with just a hint of disdain for the poor mortals who couldn’t figure it out.

  Drew looked like he thought I’d gone bananas, but Harper worried his lower lip with his front teeth. “Four,” he said, “three, two, one.”

  “Bingo,” I said, and started to fill in the numbers. I held up the completed form, mostly so Dirk could see it more easily. He read it out loud over my shoulder while Drew and Harper mumbled to themselves.

  Left side 18 to wl

  ___,000 dentists—We need a number here

  Left

  4—no idea what this means

  5 & 10

  3

  _ _ stars

  2

  99 and 44/100 %

  1 Right

  brother against brother

  ended just in time ? ? ?

  “So, we’re stuck on the first line, the dentists, the number of stars, and the last two lines. Plus, we still don’t know what the numbers mean. Are they supposed to have words after them?”

  Harper laid his hands flat on the table. I looked at him. His eyes had gone sort of fuzzy. Was he having an attack of some sort? He wasn’t breathing.

  Concerned, I touched his arm, and he let out his breath in a big whoosh. “It’s the combination,” he said.

  Drew leaned forward. “Combination of what?”

  “Do you remember,” Harper said, “when I asked you if there was a paper with five numbers on it in the desk?”

  “Oh,” I said. “The combination to the safe.” I looked at the paper, the one Harper had brought. “You said this was found in . . . in Mason’s sporran.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Mason was trying to break into my safe?”

  Drew waved his hand at me. “Hello? Sis? It’s not your safe, remember?”

  “Thanks for that reality check, brother. I know that. It’s just that I can’t imagine why Mason would want to break into the ScotShop. All he had to do was ask me, and I would have let him in.”

  “I thought you weren’t talking to him.”

  “I wasn’t, but this is different. He didn’t have to go and get killed like that.” My throat felt tight. I swallowed. It wasn’t easy.

  Harper broke the small silence. “We still need to know what those numbers are.”

  “We know the four and the three and so on,” Drew said.

  “No.” Harper pointed back to the paper. “Those old combinations had five numbers. The four means to turn the dial four times . . .”

  “To the left,” I shouted. “See? There’s an L right above the 4, so it must mean turn left four times.”

  Harper nodded. “That would follow the pattern, all right. Then it would be three to the right, two to the left . . .”

  “And one to the right,” I finished for him.

  Drew pulled the paper toward him and hunched over it. “That means all these phrases are clues to what the numbers are for the combination?”

  “Yeah,” I said at the same time Harper said, “All we need are the answers to the clues.”

  I pulled the junk drawer paper toward me and filled in what else we’d learned.

  Harper took my pencil from my hand and drew a line through the ninety-nine. “The combination lock only goes to one hundred.”

  “So, why couldn’t we leave off the forty-four instead?” Even as Drew asked, I could almost hear him answering his own question. He took a breath. “The number is the percentage part. Has to be forty-four. You’re right.”

  I took back my pencil and looked at what I’d written. “This first line doesn’t follow the pattern.”

  Harper stood and paced to the door and back. “You said the building was built in 1915.”

  “Yeah. It says so in the stone over the front door.”

  “So all of these clues would relate to things that were going on back then.”

  Tessa whined to go outside. Drew wheeled himself toward the back door. Over his shoulder he called, “You mean Ivory soap is that old?”

  Harper kept talking. “The only brother against brother I know of is the Civil War. Unless there was some sort of feud going on.”

  “There’ve been several old and very famous feuds in the Northeast Kingdom,” I said, referring to that area of northeastern Vermont known for its unique and iconoclastic inhabitants.

  “None from around here,” Drew said. “It has to be the Civil War. The guy that wrote this might even have served in it.”

  “What would be a civil war? ’Twould seem to me that war is seldom civil.”

  “You’re right,” I said, “but the Civil War isn’t a number. We need a number.”

  “Sixty-five,” Drew called out as Tessa bounced past him, her business taken care of.

  “Why sixty-five?” Harper and I both asked at the same time.

  “Because 1865 was when the Civil War ended—just in time, like the paper says.”

  I erased the three question marks and added a sixty-five. I leaned back in my chair. “Now we need the number of dentists, the number of stars, and that first line.”

  Harper sat back down. He fiddled with Drew’s birthday card for a moment, thumbing through it.

  “Advertisements,” he said. “Ivory soap’s tagline was well known back then, and everyone knew about Woolworth’s.”

  “What would be a wool worth?”

  No time to explain. “Do you think there are any of those cards”—I pointed to the one Harper held—“for 1915? It would give us song names and advertisements, and news stories.”

  Drew whipped out his iPhone. “I’ll let you know in a minute.”

  It took longer than a minute—considerably longer—but he finally let out a whoop and thrust his phone into my face. Can 17,000 dentists be wrong? An ad for Pro-phy-lac-tic Tooth Brush Company, complete with hyphens in the name. Always sold in a yellow box.

  “Well,” I said, “that’s good to know,” and filled in the number seventeen on the second line.

  Try as he might, though, Drew couldn’t find a single ad from 1915 with stars in it.

  Harper pushed back his chair. “Let’s go look.”

  I picked up both pieces of paper and watched as Dirk lifted my shawl from the back of the opposite chair. Fortunately, neither Harper nor my twin was looking that direction, so they wouldn’t have seen it seemingly disappear.

  * * *

  Dirk slipped into Drew’s van while Drew waited for the elevator thing to lift his wheelchair up and inside. I knew Dirk would be able to slip out the same way once we got to the shop.

  Harper opened the door of his car for me. “This should be fun,” he said as I reached for my seatbelt. Over Harper’s shoulder I saw the curtains twitch upstairs in Mr. P’s house. Nosy, lonely neighbor.

  The one traffic light was green, so we made good time. I paused outside the front door and looked up. The 1915 above the front door was barely visible in the dim moonlight. The streetlights left puddles on the ground, but none of their light migrated upward. Harper followed my gaz
e. “Maybe there are clues inside,” he said.

  I unlocked the door and switched on a couple of lights. “I doubt it. This whole space has been renovated so many times. There was a hardware store here, and then a clothing store, before I took on the lease. Before that it was an insurance office, if I remember right. Wallace Insurance.” I searched my childhood memories. I couldn’t recall what had been here before Mr. Wallace. “I know it started as just a general office space for the manufacturing that was done in the other end of the building, but I don’t know much else.”

  “Let’s get some privacy here.” Harper shut the blinds on the courtyard side of the store, and I pulled the curtains on the street side.

  Drew knocked on the door and I let them in. We quartered the store, inspecting the walls, the ceiling, the woodwork. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. “You know, I’m pretty sure I would have noticed, sometime during the past six years, if there had been anything unusual in here.”

  “You never can tell,” Harper said. “Sometimes things are hidden in plain sight.”

  I thought back to one of my high school English classes. “Like ‘The Purloined Letter.’”

  “What would be—”

  “You know, that story by Edgar Allan Poe, the creepy writer, about the letter that was framed and right out on the wall where everybody would see it, but nobody would notice it.”

  “Yes,” Harper said. “I had English in high school. And college, too.”

  I waited until he turned away from me, looking back at the ceiling, and I made a zip your mouth shut gesture at Dirk. He was going to get me in a whole lot of trouble if I didn’t watch out. I stepped back, intending to walk around a display of Scottish-themed bookends, and came face-to-wheelchair with my brother. He zipped his mouth, the way I had just done, spread his hands, and said, “You care to explain that?”

  Harper looked back at us.

  “No, I do not. It’s my store, and I can do whatever I want in here.” If Harper hadn’t been watching, I would have stuck out my tongue.

  I sidestepped Drew’s chair and walked up next to Harper. “Do you want to take another look at the safe? Maybe we could try some of the numbers.”

  “It wouldn’t do a bit of good. We don’t have the first one, and without that, all the rest of the numbers are useless.”

  “We also don’t have the one about the stars,” Drew added.

  “You mean we came here for nothing?”

  “I should have brought my tools,” Harper said. “We could have ripped out some of that shelving in the bathroom.”

  “Ye would ruin your gown,” Dirk pointed out.

  “I’m not dressed for it,” I said. “Maybe another time.”

  Harper wandered back toward the bookcase. “Did you move anything before I got here last week?”

  I thought back to that awful day. “No. I don’t think so. We picked up the bookcase, of course.”

  “Of course. Anything else?”

  “I don’t think so.” I looked around me and remembered Shoe with his hands full of broken pieces of pottery. “Wait. Yes. There were some things that got broken when the bookcase fell, a couple of pottery bowls and such. Shoe and Gilda picked up the pieces before we lifted the bookcase.”

  He held my gaze for several seconds before shaking his head. “I know that. You already told me.”

  “There was something else, too.” I tried to think, imagining Shoe in front of me. Mentally, I picked through the detritus in his cupped hands. “Part of a broken wooden bookend, a couple of keys, and my tape measure. I think that’s about all there was.”

  “Your tape measure?” Drew sounded skeptical.

  “Yeah. It’s a twenty-five-footer. It must have fallen off the counter when the bookcase crashed over.”

  “I know,” Harper said. “I used it to measure the bathroom walls.” He looked at the forty-foot expanse of wall at the back of the ScotShop. “We’re missing something here,” he muttered, but he didn’t seem to be talking to me.

  We looked around a bit longer but without much enthusiasm. When I locked the door behind us, I remembered that Dirk needed to ride in the van. “You left your casserole dish at my place, Drew. Why don’t you swing by there on your way home?”

  “Swing by there? It’s out of my way, and you know it.”

  I did some quick thinking. “Hold on a minute, I forgot something.” I dashed back into the ScotShop and picked up one of the largest Loch Ness Monsters. “I forgot I needed to do some repair work on this one.” Drew and Harper both simply stared at me. “It has a hairline crack,” I said and led the way to Harper’s car. Naturally, I had to set it in the back seat, which gave Dirk the perfect chance to climb inside.

  I paused, waiting to be sure my brother was up and safely in his van. I knew I shouldn’t worry about him. But I did anyway.

  Harper started the car. “Sorry I led you on such a wild-goose chase.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “We need to cover every angle until we get this figured out.”

  He stopped when the traffic light turned red. I looked around. Nothing was coming this time of night. “You could . . .” Then I remembered. Harper was a cop. With wide shoulders and beautiful eyes, but a cop nonetheless. Crud.

  “I could what?”

  “You could . . . uh . . . come back tomorrow. The shop is closed on Mondays. We can take the shelves out.” I sat patiently until the light changed.

  “Will do.”

  There didn’t seem to be a lot more to say.

  As he pulled into my driveway, Harper turned off the ignition and looked at me. “It’s a real joy,” he said, “to be able to be silent with someone and not feel awkward about it.” Before I could say anything, he turned around and hauled Nessie out of the back seat. “I’ll carry this in for you.”

  I looked at Dirk. As soon as Harper was out of the car, I motioned to my ghostie to crawl over into the front. He grumbled, but he did it. By the time Harper opened my door, Dirk was ready to slide out after me. What I do for my ghost, I thought.

  Mr. P’s voice floated across his front lawn. “Did you have a nice ride?”

  I looked up at Harper and shrugged. “He watches out for me,” I whispered. In a louder voice I called, “Yes. It’s a beautiful night, Mr. P.”

  I didn’t wait to listen for his reply, but hurried up the walk, with Harper and Dirk in my wake. At the top of the ramp, I slipped my key in the door and turned to Harper. He glanced sideways to where we could both see Mr. P peering over his porch railing. “I guess I’ll say good night.” He handed Nessie to me without letting go, leaned forward, and brushed his lips gently across my cheek. “See you tomorrow,” he said, his words rich with possibility.

  Beside me, Dirk fingered his blade.

  I let myself in and turned to watch Harper as he got into his car, drove down the drive, and disappeared around the bend. Until Dirk cleared his throat, I wasn’t aware that my left hand was holding my cheek and my lips were pressed on the soft mound at the base of my little finger. I dropped my hand and locked the front door. “Good night, Dirk. I’m turning in early. See you tomorrow.” And I fled upstairs.

  As I brushed my teeth, I studied the list. The first line still made no sense.

  I rinsed my mouth out and carried the paper back to the little writing table under the windows. At the bottom I printed:

  Left side 18 to wl ???

  17—first number

  Left 4 turns to 5

  Right 3 turns to _ _ ??? (number of stars)

  Left 2 turns to 44

  Right 1 turn to 65

  Two pieces still to go on this doggone puzzle. I turned out the light, but it took me a long time to go to sleep.

  25

  Betrayal

  Still in my UVM T-shirt, I’d just finished breakfast when the front doorbell
rang at seven. I looked at Dirk. He shook his head, walked into the living room, and peeked through the sheers at the bay window. His voice, when he spoke, sounded grim. “The constable.”

  Harper! “Tell him to wait,” I said without thinking. “I’ll throw some clothes on.”

  Dirk cleared his throat. He seemed to do that a lot around me.

  “Oh, phooey. He can’t hear you. Sorry, Dirk. I forgot.” I raised my voice, “I’ll be right there, Harper.” I opened the coat closet and pulled out my bright pink raincoat. It was the closest thing to hand.

  Harper carefully kept his eyes averted when I opened the door, although I did notice a quick twitch at the side of his mouth.

  “I wasn’t expecting anyone,” I said. “The store’s closed on Mondays, and I usually don’t . . .” Shut up, Winn. You’re babbling. “Oh, I forgot. We were going to take out those shelves. Come on in, and I’ll run upstairs and throw on some clothes.” Doggone it, I felt myself blushing. “I mean, I already have clothes on. I’ll just throw on some different ones.” Good grief. I gestured toward the couch. Why was I so unnerved? It had absolutely nothing to do with that little kiss last night. He was just being friendly, that was all. “Sit. Make yourself at home.” I ran upstairs and was back, fully clothed in gray sweats, in fewer than five minutes, a scarf wound firmly around my head. Just so he wouldn’t make comments about poodles.

  He still stood just inside the front door where I’d left him.

  “He hasna moved since ye left the room.”

  “Harper? What’s wrong?”

  He straightened his already ramrod straight back and indicated that I should sit. I crossed in front of him to my wingback chair. He crossed in front of me to stand next to the wood-burning stove, which was as cold as Harper’s face looked. Dirk planted himself halfway between the two of us. I couldn’t tell if Harper was angry or just uncomfortable. I’d already asked him what was wrong. I had no intention of asking again. I waited him out, fingering the bottom edge of my sweatshirt.

  Finally, he cleared his throat, and said, “Would you care to explain why Mason deposited twenty-four hundred dollars in your business checking account?”