When Jodie and I became close I’d tried to include Lloyd in our friendship, but he told me he could handle being friends with only one person at a time, that it was all just too much for him otherwise. He told me it would be better for me to hang out with Jodie than with him.
I’d thought that was pretty weird then and had no idea how to handle what at the time had seemed like an ultimatum, but now, years later, I knew that Lloyd was an introvert, perhaps as much of an introvert as someone could be; painfully shy. Somehow I’d managed to break into his world, and the ultimatum was actually an unusually mature kindness sent my way.
“Clare?” Jodie said. “You with us?”
“Oh, sorry. Yeah, I’m right here. I knew Lloyd in high school and we were pretty good friends when we were younger, but I don’t understand what’s going on with some typewriters that he wanted to give us.”
“How about you open the back?” Jodie said to the delivery boy.
“Will do. Name’s Dillon, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Dillon,” Jodie said, keeping a suspicious slant to her eyes. She placed herself in between me, Chester, Baskerville, and the back of the truck. Never such a thing as downtime for Jodie. “Open the back.”
A few seconds later, Dillon raised the back door and then turned on his phone’s flashlight.
“There ya go. They look like a cross between sewing machines and typewriters. Mr. Gavin said you’d know what they are, and he wanted you to have them. Made me promise not to wreck the truck.”
We stepped closer and looked inside. Dillon had been correct—the three machines inside did look like sewing machine–typewriter hybrids.
“Oh my,” Chester said.
In tandem he and I adjusted our glasses.
“Hoovens,” Chester said with a breathy sigh. Baskerville, not interested in the items in the truck, jumped out of his arms and trotted back to the shop’s stoop, sitting and wrapping his tail around himself. His patience wouldn’t last long, but he’d sensed that Chester and I might need a moment.
“That something good?” Jodie said.
“Yes,” I said. “Very good. Very rare.”
“Awesome,” Jodie said. “Alrighty, then. Can we get these unloaded so Dillon can hit the road? I can call for help.”
“Jodie, we can’t just take these,” I said. “They’re too valuable.”
“Let’s see if we can get ahold of Lloyd. What’s his number? Do you know where he was staying?” Jodie asked Dillon.
“Sure, but I’ve been trying to call him since last night. No answer.”
“As you said, maybe he’s just been busy. Tell me the hotel too. We’ll find him,” Jodie said.
“I hope so,” Dillon said. “He sure seems to be missing in action.”
Jodie and I both froze in place before we shared a look.
“No, it couldn’t be,” I said.
“That would be a wild coincidence,” she said.
“What?” Chester said.
I sent him a frown. I didn’t want to say aloud in front of Dillon what Jodie and I were thinking but Chester would pick up on our thoughts in a second.
He did.
“Oooh,” he said. “Well, that would be terrible.”
“What’s going on?” Dillon said.
“Come on, kid. Let’s find a place for you and your truck to stay tonight,” Jodie said. “Lock ’er up.”
“Why? Why can’t I just leave them and head back toward Evanston? I need to get home.”
“We gotta find Lloyd before you can go. It’s best that way,” Jodie said.
Dillon scratched his head and shrugged because he was too young to know what else he could do. “Okay.”
Chester and I took a moment to jump inside the back of the truck and take a closer look at the rare old machines. I was a little worried about their being left in the open police station parking lot.
“I can take them down to Salt Lake to a secure facility if you think I should,” Jodie said.
“Tonight?” It was already after eight.
“I could if you think it’s best.”
“You have officers on duty at the station all night, right?” I said.
“Yes.”
“Just have them check on the truck throughout the night. Unless we were being spied on, we’re the only ones who know about them.”
“Lloyd too,” Jodie said.
“Let’s hope so,” I replied.
“I’ll find him.”
She and I got Dillon set up at the same hotel our visiting author was staying at. It was conveniently located near the police station. I didn’t knock on Nathan’s door as I walked out of the hotel with Jodie, but I angled toward it and heard what I thought was the click-clack of typewriter keys. He hadn’t mentioned that he wrote on a typewriter, but I’d ask him about it.
Jodie dropped me off at my house, affectionately named Little Blue, and left me with thought-provoking parting words: “Hope Lloyd still has both feet.”
Photo © 2009 Charlie Ferrell
Paige Shelton is the New York Times bestselling author of To Helvetica and Back, the debut novel in the Dangerous Type Mysteries. She also pens the Farmers’ Market Mysteries, including Bushel Full of Murder and Merry Market Murder, and the Country Cooking School Mysteries, including If Onions Could Spring Leeks and If Catfish Had Nine Lives. Paige Shelton has lived a bunch of places but currently resides in Arizona with her husband. For more information, see her website: paigeshelton.com.
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