“I said I’ve got it. Get back on the streets, officer.”
“Yes, sir.” She nodded to me, then left.
It might not have been the best time to say something about Betty Wickline, but I figured I might not get another chance when there was no one else around. “I’m really sorry about Betty.”
“I bet you are,” he said. Then he looked at me, and he must have seen something in my eyes. “What?”
“I’ve heard you two were close. Very close.” Okay, it wasn’t subtle, but then again, neither was a brick through my plate-glass window.
“I don’t know what you think you know, but you’d better drop it, and I mean right now.”
I tried to keep my voice soft as I said, “By the way, how’s your wife?”
“Evelyn’s fine,” he snapped. “Carolyn Emerson, if I hear one more word of this nonsense from you or anybody else, I’ll lock you up, do you understand me?”
“On what grounds, littering? I’ll clean this mess up as soon as you’re gone. I can’t help what folks in town are saying about you and Betty Wickline.”
Hodges ran a hand through his hair. “Oh man, Evelyn is not going to be happy about this. She and Betty never got along.”
I nodded in sympathy. “It’s got to be especially hard on her. Does she know about you two?”
“Blast it, there’s nothing to know! I wasn’t having an affair with Betty Wickline. You’ve got to be out of your mind for even suggesting it.”
“I never said a word about it myself. I heard it through the grapevine.”
“You should know better than to listen to idle gossip. Do you honestly think I could stand the thought of being around that woman for more than ten minutes at a time? You’ve all lost your minds if you believe that.”
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 ou
t 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.”
Chapter 6
“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 cove
red,” 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?”
A Murderous Glaze Page 8