by Неизвестный
“How long has it been?” I asked. “You’ve had this store forever, it seems. The last time I saw you must have been fifteen years ago.”
He leaned forward in a formal bow, nodding his head down to show me the gleaming, fleshy top of his head. “Back when I had hair up here. The good ol’ days, as they say.”
“But you’re so tall, nobody sees the top of your head, anyway.”
He straightened and beamed a wide, skeletal grin at my compliment as he rang up my purchase. I handed over my credit card and became the owner of a purple and green feathered masquerade mask I didn’t need.
He asked, “How are things at the gift shop since you took over? I got a postcard from Rhonda. She’s enjoying her world tour on that big cruise ship.”
“Good for her,” I said. “The store must have been a lot of work when she ran it herself. It couldn’t have been easy running the place with no computerized inventory system whatsoever.”
Jenkins widened his eyes, eager for me to spill juicy details about the former owner of Glorious Gifts, a chatty woman named Rhonda Kennedy—no relation to the famous family. As he waited, I felt a tug of emotion, the compulsion to bond. We had twenty years between us, but now we were the same, both of us store owners. Part of me wanted to befriend Creepy Jeepers, buying gossip credit by sharing Rhonda Kennedy’s creative methods for cooking the books to avoid the tax collector, but I bit my tongue. The town already had plenty to talk about when it came to me.
Jenkins tucked my purchase into a bag. He pointed one long thumb in the direction of a corkboard on the back wall behind the counter.
“There’s the postcard Rhonda sent me,” he said. “Alaska.”
The store’s whale-belly lighting was brighter near the counter, but I still had to lean in to get a good look. The corkboard contained more than one layer of paper memories, from postcards and business cards to printed-out emails with photos of smiling customers in costumes and formal wear.
Rhonda Kennedy’s postcard from Alaska featured icebergs under a full moon. Below the postcard, in the lower right corner of the corkboard, was a straight row of photos of individuals, posed for what appeared to be mug shots. The image on the far right was a picture of Mr. Murray Michaels, chin up in defiance, eyes glowering at something unseen, off to the side of the photographer.
I asked innocently, “What event are those photos from? Gosh. They look like mug shots.”
Jenkins shifted a calendar down to cover the row of photos. “I’m afraid that’s not for customers to see.”
“But I’m not just a customer. I’m a local business owner. That’s your Wall of Dishonor, isn’t it? Shoplifters?”
“Yes, I’m sorry to say that’s exactly what it is.” With a robotic stiffness, he turned back toward the corkboard. His long fingers scuttled like the legs of a spider as he lifted the calendar back up to let me have a look. “Keep an eye on these ones if they start spending a suspicious amount of time inside your store.”
“The lady with the platinum hair is married into the Koenig family, isn’t she? That woman could buy the whole block and have money left over. What’s she doing shoplifting?” I pointed to her shame-faced image while keeping my eyes on Mr. Michaels.
“Some do it for the thrill,” Jenkins said. “This one’s husband always pays for what she takes. I suppose I could let her come and go, but lately she hasn’t even been trying to hide what she’s doing. I can’t let people carry on like that without doing something, without any punishment. It’s the principle of the thing.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for her.” I leaned in, squinting theatrically. “I think that’s my dad’s neighbor over there on the end. What did he steal?”
“This and that.”
“Men’s clothes? Maybe a hat?”
Eli Jenkins brought his spider fingers to his face and stroked his sharp chin. “He may have helped himself to one of my top hats, but I can’t be sure.”
“A top hat is kind of a large item to shoplift. Did he simply put it on and walk out? I don’t suppose you have cameras in here, do you?”
“No cameras. The hat disappeared on a day I was trying out a new employee, and the girl might not have recognized him from the board.” His long fingers curled into a fist, which he shook emphatically. “That was an expensive hat, too. I’ve half a mind to hold Murray upside down by the ankles and shake him until everything comes loose. He’s gone too far.”
“Did you report him to the police?”
“Not worth their time,” he said. “Have no fear, though. Karma will catch up to the bugger. One of these days he’ll snap up something he shouldn’t, and he’ll be sorry.”
I made a non-verbal noise of sympathy. Taking my response as a cue to expand on the theme of vengeance, he let out a torrent of noise, some of it colorful, about shoplifters and the difficulties of maintaining a retail business. I listened, nodding. It wasn’t difficult to feel pity for Leo Jenkins, who, from appearances alone, seemed to be going through a rough patch. He’d always been skinny, but fifteen years ago he could have been described as lanky, or even athletic. At my high school, some of the oddball girls seemed to be fond of the costume supplier, especially the girls with the experimental hairstyles and piercings. They also called him Creepy Jeepers but in an affectionate way, and a few cried in disappointment when he got married.
While he ranted, I checked the spider fingers of his left hand to see if the marriage had lasted. His ring finger bore no wedding band, but an indentation sat where one would have been. I noted that a marital breakdown could have caused his bitter mood, while living as a bachelor and cooking for himself could have caused his weight loss.
He finally stopped ranting about shoplifters and removed his glasses again so he could rub the creases around his deep-set eyes. “I apologize for my outburst,” he said softly. “I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”
“Winter is tough,” I said with matching softness. “The days are short and cold, but spring will come.”
“Spring. Yes. When everything melts.” He got a faraway look. “I need to do some spring cleaning.”
“You could have a garage sale,” I offered. “It always makes my father so happy to see the signs up for garage sales because he enjoys commenting about how people spell the signs wrong and forget the letter B.”
Jenkins emitted something akin to a laugh. “How is your father?”
“Exactly the same.”
“Good health?” he asked.
“Along with a brand new hip, yes.”
“Good,” he said with a weak smile. “Too many things change these days. People are under the delusion that all change is an improvement. But what’s the word for a change that isn’t an improvement?”
“In the corporate world, they say restructuring instead of layoffs.”
“Life is full of restructuring.” He shook his head ruefully. “The things they shove down our throats these days.”
My gaze flitted from his bare ring finger to a pile of paperwork, most likely waybills and invoices.
“True,” I said with a sympathetic note as I picked up the little shopping bag and tucked it into my purse along with my wallet. “See you around,” I said, hoping otherwise.
He forced out another toothy smile. “Always a pleasure, Stormy Day.”
“You, too,” I said, finishing with a silent Creepy Jeepers.
He gave me a limp wave as he turned to busy himself with his computer.
I turned to leave, making my way out of the bejeweled whale’s belly and back onto the sidewalk, where the plainness of the cloudy sky stretched out overhead like an endless scroll of paper for my thoughts. I glanced around until my eyes stopped at one of the town’s landmarks, a circular mirror situated at the corner of Broad Avenue and Bergamot Street. Watching my reflection grow larger, I walked toward the round mirror.
A top hat was nothing to kill someone over. Stealing someone’s wife, however, was another story. Because of the ring indentation on his b
are finger, I imagined the restructuring Leo Jenkins was having shoved down his throat had something to do with his marriage. Had Mrs. Jenkins been seeing someone new? I wanted to dig deeper for a connection between Leo’s wife and Murray Michaels. An affair would explain some of Leo Jenkins’ agitation. Then again, if he’d actually killed someone, ranting about the victim to anyone who dropped into the costume store was not the smartest way to let off steam, unless, of course, he was doing so as a smoke screen, to make himself appear innocent by looking too guilty.
The possibilities were endless and utterly, breathlessly exciting. I could barely wait for my father to call so I could tell him everything. In the meantime, I would seek more information by stopping in to see the person who kept her thumb on the pulse of the town. She was on the other side of the round mirror, and I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling she’d be expecting me.
Chapter 10
Every small town has a person whose job makes them an expert on everyone’s love life. In Misty Falls, that expert was Ruby Sparkes, the owner of Ruby’s Treasure Trove, located at the corner of Broad Avenue and Bergamot Street.
Before entering the store, I checked myself in the building’s round mirror, where I couldn’t help but smile, despite the day I’d been having. The mirror had that effect on people, and not just because the natural outdoor light was universally flattering. The mirror’s circular surface was surrounded by a decorative mosaic made from colored bits of broken tile, dishes, marbles, doll figurines, toy robots, and even a few sturdy firetrucks. Amidst the swirling toys and colors were letters spelling out positive words and phrases, including JOY and LOVE and YOU LOOK SUPER TODAY!
Still smiling at the wall’s compliments, I turned the corner onto Bergamot Street, stamped the snow off my boots, opened the glass door, and stepped into Ruby’s Treasure Trove.
The store interior was brightly lit by a multitude of spotlights, overhead and within the glass-enclosed cases. A fortune in precious metals and stones stretched out upon sand-colored cloth and pale brown risers, as though a pirate’s chest of treasure had busted open at sea and washed up on velvet shores.
Ruby stood behind a jewelry counter with a young blond woman I guessed was her employee, since Ruby had no children. They both greeted me, though no sound came out of the young worker’s mouth.
Cheerily, I asked, “How’s the delightful Ruby Sparkes today?”
She held one hand to her heart and fluttered her eyelashes. “You remember me!”
“Who could forget the most fun lady in all of Misty Falls?”
Ruby Sparkes tipped back her head and let out a big laugh, not denying my label. Ruby was an energetic woman of sixty-something, with curly hair colored a purple-red shade between auburn and grape soda. She had a friendly voice, a warm smile, and the kind of bosom you want your face crushed into if you’re feeling blue. She always wore purple, unless she wore leopard print. Today was a leopard print day, and she looked as fun as ever in a brown-spotted blouse paired with purple slacks.
Ruby came out from behind the counter, beaming and looking as if she might hug me. “Stormy Lou-Anne Day! You’ve become such an elegant young woman.”
“Elegant?” I looked down at my utilitarian ski jacket, casual jeans, and old boots.
“You also look like you need a hug.” She grabbed me and pulled my face down to the top of her leopard-spotted bosom. Her hug felt every bit as good as it had when I was a kid. It was a shame my father had no interest in women his own age, let alone older women, or Ruby might have played a bigger role in my life.
She cooed, “I love your short hair. It’s so spunky. Let me look at you.”
From her chest, I said, “You’ll have to let me go first.”
With a burst of laughter, she released me and took a good look at me, from head to toe.
“I haven’t seen you since your grand re-opening of Glorious Gifts,” she said. “I popped in and out before we could speak. I hope you slowed down and ate some of those mini cupcakes I brought. You’re too thin, honey.”
“I ate a few,” I said.
“There’s that lovely smile of yours. You were always such a sweet little girl. I remember when your father used to bring you into the shop every year on your birthday to pick out something special.”
“I still have all those gifts,” I said. “Every single one.”
“Your father always felt so bad he couldn’t pick what you’d like all by himself, but I dare say you enjoyed the shopping trip even more than the trinket, didn’t you?”
I smiled fondly at the memories. “You sure are good at figuring out everyone in this town, Ruby.”
She patted her huge, purple-red curls with a ring-covered hand. “I keep an eye on things.”
The young woman behind the counter knocked over a bottle of cleaning spray with a clatter. “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry, Miss Ruby!” She righted the bottle, knocked it over again, and let out another torrent of apologies.
Ruby said, gently but firmly, “Hayley, less talking about cleaning and more actual cleaning.”
The girl, who looked young enough to belong in high school on a weekday, jumped into action, polishing the glass display counters. She paused only to push a strand of honey-colored hair from her sweaty brow.
“Don’t mind the new girl,” Ruby said to me. “She’s as skittish as a baby colt born on a frosty day, but she’ll train up fine.” In a conspiratorial tone, she added, “If I don’t break her first.”
Having Ruby speak to me as a peer was new, but I rolled with the change, joking right back, “Don’t break her. Christmas is coming. You’ll need all hands on deck.”
“Let’s hope it’s a busy one,” she said. “What can I do for you today? Picking out something for your equally lovely sister? Will she be home for the holidays?” Without waiting for answers, she led me to a display of earrings. “These delicate ones are perfect for small ears.” She pointed to one pair in particular, which were miniature roses.
As usual, Ruby knew exactly what suited someone’s taste. The earrings were perfect for my sister, but I needed more time for my secret mission, so I pretended to be unsure. We spent twenty minutes looking over the displays and chatting about business in general before I got my opportunity to inquire about Creepy Jeepers.
Ruby was talking about town spending on Broad Avenue, saying, “And of course, Leo Jenkins didn’t see the point of putting up banners on the lantern poles because he didn’t want to see the lights changed in the first place.”
“How is he doing?” I asked. “I bumped into him on my way here, and he didn’t look well. Is there trouble with his wife, that you know of?”
Ruby answered with a brusque, “He’s a bit old for you, honey.”
I felt my cheeks flush. Asking about someone’s marriage didn’t come naturally to me, and I’d oversold my concern for the man.
“I’m not asking for myself,” I said. “Just worried about the guy, and you always know what everyone’s up to. You’re so connected, and people open up to you. I bet you could name off which couples are getting engaged next month.”
“I do know things,” she said cryptically.
“About Creepy Jeepers?” I asked. “I mean, Leo Jenkins.”
“Something’s up with Jenkins,” Ruby said, nodding as her expression grew serious. She glanced over at her employee, who was leaning against the back wall with her eyes closed and her mouth slack, dozing off with a cleaning cloth still in one hand.
I could have made a joke about the employee being broken already, but Ruby seemed to be on the verge of sharing something, and I didn’t want to break the spell of whatever magic was happening between us.
She patted her purple-red curls and pursed her lips thoughtfully.
“What is it?” I prompted.
She held up one finger and pulled out a phone, which she consulted with a troubled expression. The phone was small and blue, whereas the one she’d checked three times while showing me earrings had been larger and in a black
case.
She glanced up. “You can keep a secret,” she said.
It sounded more like a statement than a question, but I answered anyway. “Yes.”
“May I show you something that must stay between us?”
“Yes,” I answered, perhaps a little too quickly.
A slow smile spread across her face, as though she was about to share some forbidden pleasure with me.
She turned to the sleeping girl and barked, “Hayley, look lively!”
Hayley startled and nearly fell over but recovered and got back to cleaning.
Ruby gave me a knowing look and nodded for me to follow her, behind the jewelry counter and through a door. We were in the stock room, but before I could get my bearings, suddenly I was in her arms again, being crushed against her fragrant and ample bosom. This time she patted my back, as though I was a baby in need of burping.
“You poor dear,” she said as she continued whacking my back in a manner that was surprisingly soothing.
“Poor me?”
“That must have been such a ghastly surprise,” she said. “Finding that sad man’s frozen body.”
My voice muffled against the ruffles of her leopard print blouse, I said, “You heard the news, then.”
“Poor, poor thing, and you’re putting up such a brave front. Don’t worry, honey. I have more of those mini cupcakes. They’re so small; you can’t say no.” She pulled away and looked into my eyes. “Ready for the secret?”
I swung my arm in a chipper gesture of readiness. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“This way, all the way to the back,” she said, leading me past stock room shelves stacked with cardboard boxes. We reached another door, where she gave me the eager look again, before opening it and ushering me through.