by Tim Myers
I wasn’t all that excited about sharing the place with him, but I didn’t have much choice. “It’s the roof access. It’s there for maintenance.”
“Let’s go,” he said.
I started out of the closet when he called me back. “Not out there. We’re going up.”
I shook my head, but led him up the rungs to the roof. It had been my sanctuary, my peace in the world, and the sheriff was violating it. I’d considered telling him it was off-limits, but doing that would only make him that much more determined to go up there. There was a chance once he saw Pearly wasn’t up there, he’d drop his crazy notion that I was hiding him.
I climbed up ahead of him and undid the hatch. After I stepped out onto the flat roof, Morton was there two seconds behind me. His gaze took in my storage bin, but since it was too small to hide Pearly, he didn’t say anything about it.
“Listen, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this to yourself. I come up here sometimes when I want to get away from the world.”
He looked at me and shook his head. “Who am I going to tell?”
I followed him around the perimeter of the rooftop, but neither one of us said another word until we ended back up at the scuttle.
“It’s like I told you; he’s not here.”
“This is a big building, Harrison. There are lots of places to hide.”
“Sheriff, why would he run from you? You’re not going to arrest him, are you?”
“If I could get my hands on him, I might. That newspaper article has brought me nothing but grief.” I couldn’t imagine the kind of pressure being applied on him. The Gunpowder Gazette had burned him at the stake for letting Pearly get away. It made what they’d done to me look like a love fest.
“I know it looks bad, but Pearly didn’t kill her.”
He waited until we were back in my apartment before he said, “If he’s so innocent, then why is he hiding?”
“As far as I know, he’s still in the mountains. What makes you think he’s anywhere near River’s Edge?”
Morton stormed out of my apartment and said, “I got a report he was spotted out here last night from a reliable source. He hasn’t gone far, you can believe that.”
“Have you checked his place? Most likely he doesn’t know you’re looking for him. You can’t accuse Pearly of avoiding you if he’s not aware you’re after him.”
Morton said, “We’re keeping an eye on his house, but he’s too smart to go back there. Besides, there are a lot more places to hide here, and he’s been working this complex since Belle took over. Don’t worry, I’ll find him.”
We walked back down the stairs, and I was surprised the sheriff hadn’t insisted on checking out the other offices while we’d been up there. Markum had a nice space, as did Gary Cragg and a few other folks.
My answer came when we went outside.
There were three squad cars parked in front of River’s Edge. It looked like it was going to be a thorough search after all.
I looked at the patrolmen and said, “You know, I’m not so sure this is a good idea.”
Morton said, “So you have something to hide?”
“No, but I don’t want you scaring my tenants or their customers. You’re going to have to get that warrant after all.”
Morton smiled, then reached out his hand to one of his female officers. She put a folded piece of paper in his grasp, and after Morton glanced at it, he handed it to me. It was a search warrant allowing him to look around the entire complex.
“If you had one of these, why did you bother asking my permission?”
“I had to keep you busy until the warrant got here so you couldn’t warn Pearly first.”
“He’s not here,” I insisted.
“And I say he is.” Morton turned to his staff and said, “I’ve already checked the one apartment upstairs, but there are offices up there, too. You two check them out.” He turned to the other two officers and said, “You’all start down by the pottery and I’ll start at the candleshop at this end. Remember, he’s wanted for questioning at the moment, and that’s all. No rough stuff. Now go.”
As his team dispersed, I followed him into my candleshop.
“I don’t need a chaperone,” he said.
“You do if you’re going into At Wick’s End.”
He didn’t like it, but he knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Eve looked startled when the sheriff walked in behind me. “Harrison, what is it?” she asked, ignoring her customer for the moment.
“He thinks Pearly’s here.”
“And you let him storm in without resistance?”
“Eve, he’s got a warrant, so there’s really nothing I can do about it.”
After the sheriff looked around, including the classroom, the storage area and our small bathroom, he said, “Okay, I’m going next door.”
I followed him to the door, and he said, “I can’t stop you from being in your candleshop, but you’re not going with me everywhere on the grounds.”
“I own this place, along with the bank. I can go wherever I please.”
Morton snorted. “And I can haul you in for obstruction of justice.”
That was about all I was willing to take. “I’d like to see you try it. I’m not a big fan of Gary Cragg, but I know you two like each other even less. I’ve got a feeling he’d love for you to try to keep me away.”
“Do what you want,” Morton snapped.
We walked into Heather’s shop, The New Age. She was reading something at the register, and she nearly dropped the book when we walked in.
“I know this isn’t a social call,” she said, “not with all those patrol cars out front. What is this, a raid? If you’re looking for contraband, all I’ve got are some rocks from Sri Lanka, but they were imported before the ban.”
Morton said, “I’m looking for Pearly Gray.”
Heather shook her head. “What’s the matter, is it too dangerous looking for real criminals? He didn’t do anything, and you know it.”
“Then why is he on the run?” Morton said as he pushed through a beaded divider between Heather’s shop and her backroom. Suddenly he said, “Why is this back door open? Was he just here?”
Heather stepped past him and closed it. “The latch isn’t working, and I can’t call Pearly to fix it, now can I?”
Morton worked the lock, tested the door, then said, “It looks okay to me.”
“What can I say? Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.”
I turned to Heather and said, “I’ll take a look at it myself after the sheriff is gone.”
Heather nodded as Morton and I exited without another word.
Ultimately the three search parties wound up in front of Millie’s place.
“Are you satisfied now that he’s not here, Sheriff?”
Morton said, “Blast it all, I should have had a man in the alley. Don’t worry, we’ll get him.” He paused, then said, “If he does turn up here, Harrison, I expect you to call me. At once.”
“I’ll be glad to if I see him.”
After the sheriff and his staff were gone, I wondered just who had given him the tip that Pearly was at River’s Edge. If my handyman was hanging around, he knew how to hide. I’d been all over the building in the last few days, and I hadn’t seen a trace of him. I grabbed the tool belt from Pearly’s storage area and went back to Heather’s to fix that lock before someone took advantage of it.
“I thought he’d never leave,” she said.
“Yeah, he’s convinced Pearly’s here.”
“Why are you back, Harrison? Don’t you have a shop to run?”
“Eve’s got it covered,” I said as I pulled out a Phillips head screwdriver. “I’m here to work on that latch.”
“I tightened it myself. It should hold just fine until Pearly comes back.”
I shrugged. “I just hope he decides to.”
“Harrison Black, you can’t honestly believe he killed that woman.”
“Of
course I don’t,” I said. “You have to admit, though, it doesn’t look good, him staying on the run like this.” While I was fairly certain my friend hadn’t killed Gretel, Pearly had managed to completely hide his affair with the woman from me. What else was there about him that I didn’t know? And what exactly was he capable of if his back was against the wall?
Heather said, “I’m sure he has his reasons. Good-bye, Harrison.”
“See you later,” I said as I walked back to the candleshop. Heather and Pearly had always been close, but she should have known she didn’t have to defend him to me. I wanted to believe just as much as she did that our handy man and friend hadn’t shot Gretel Barnett. I was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion who did, but it wasn’t enough. If Morton had been just a little more receptive to my input, I would have mentioned the clown Evelyn had seen at the celebration, for whatever amount of good it would have done. The whole thing was getting pretty complicated, and I didn’t have a clue who to trust, or how far.
I knew one thing, though. Clown makeup was a perfect disguise that day, and there was no doubt in my mind that the killer would easily blend back into the festival’s scenery after shooting Gretel. But who could the clown have been? I took the tool belt and put it back in Pearly’s workroom. My foot kicked something as I laid the belt back on the workbench. I had to get a yardstick out to retrieve it as it skittered under the workbench. It was a tube of greasepaint with the logo from Party World on it.
Just like something a clown would wear.
The PW logo was tough to spot, faint silver print inscribed on the silver case, and I wondered if the murderer had even noticed it. The police would have, though; I was sure of that. I was just glad I’d found it and not the sheriff. If I’d told Morton about the sighting before he’d searched the building, that tube would be a strong piece of evidence against Pearly. Was it possible that someone was setting him up? Evelyn had been emphatic about seeing the clown, and that could be pretty damning testimony. Or was she lying, trying to frame Pearly?
I grabbed an empty jar and nudged the tube into it, then sealed the lid. If there were fingerprints on it, I didn’t want to disturb them any more than I had. More importantly, I wanted to get that tube out of River’s Edge before Morton found a way to tie it to what had happened at the festival. I searched the workroom as best I could, but I couldn’t find anything else that could be construed as evidence against Pearly. I decided to stash what I’d found with April May until I could figure out who was out to frame my handyman. The possibility that he’d left it there himself was one I wasn’t willing to consider at the moment.
I was nearly at A Slice of Heaven before I realized I hadn’t told Eve where I was going. I’d have to make it a quick trip before she walked out on me in protest of my increasing absences from the candleshop. Though my assistant and my handyman had gone through some personal problems in the past, I was willing to bet she didn’t believe him capable of killing either.
I took the jar off the truck seat beside me and wrapped it in a worn T-shirt I kept under the seat to use as a rag when I washed one of my pickups.
It was between the lunch and dinner rushes, and I found April studying the selections on the jukebox. “Harrison Black, it’s good to see you out in the world again.”
“It’s good to be here,” I said. “April, I need a favor. No questions asked.”
“Name it,” she said.
“It’s going to be that easy?”
April grinned. “You just told me I couldn’t ask about it. Besides, if I push you on it now, you’re going to have to come up with a lie, and I don’t believe in lying between friends.”
“You’re one of a kind,” I said.
“And more of the world should take notice of it,” she said. “Now what can I do for you?”
“I need you to hide this for me.”
She took the covered jar, then said, “Is it dangerous? Will it bite, explode or leak?”
“No, if you look at it that way, it’s perfectly safe.”
She nodded. “But it’s dangerous nonetheless, gotcha. Consider it in safe hands.”
I hugged her, and as I pulled back, I saw April blush slightly. “Thanks,” I said, “I do appreciate it.”
“Not a problem. I would like to ask you for a favor myself. Don’t worry, I’ll hide this no matter what your answer is.”
“What is it?”
“When this is all over, will you tell me what I’ve been hiding?”
“I promise.”
As I drove back to River’s Edge, I felt a wash of relief getting that makeup out of the complex. Now I needed to find out who had placed it there, and why they were so eager to set my friend up.
I decided to stop off at Party World on my way back to the candleshop. Eve wouldn’t be happy about the delay, but I had to find out how tough that greasepaint was to buy. I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, the killer had slipped up somehow.
“I’m looking for some greasepaint, the kind that clowns wear,” I asked the clerk at Party World. The building, full of costumes, balloons, plates, cups and everything else needed for a celebration, was laid out like a maze, and I hadn’t had any luck after searching the aisles for ten minutes. I’d finally found a teenaged employee who was more interested in making time with the female clerk beside him than helping me. Only by standing directly between them did I finally manage to get his attention.
“Aisle 7, next to the fright wigs,” he reluctantly admitted.
“Thanks, you’ve been a great help.”
“No problem,” he said, missing my sarcasm completely and turning his attention back to his comely coworker. I hated that expression more than his behavior. When did “no problem” enter the common vernacular, and where had I been when they’d taken the vote? It was dismissive and disrespectful, and I didn’t care for it.
I headed off to the fright wigs and clown makeup, hoping that the tube I’d held was a special-order item, something they could trace.
There were three dozen tubes on the shelf just like the one I’d found under Pearly’s workbench. So much for following that lead. It was time to head back to the candleshop. No doubt Eve was ready to put out an all-points bulletin on me, I’d been gone so long.
I got back to the shop, ready with a dozen apologies for my employee, but one look at her face told me that something bigger than my absenteeism was going on.
She said, “Thank goodness you’re here. You need to get to the hospital as quickly as you can. Your friend Becka’s been attacked.”
Chapter 15
“What happened to her?” I asked.
“She was jogging by the river near here and some maniac mugged her. She tumbled down the bank and fell into the water.”
“Is it serious?”
Eve said, “They wouldn’t say, but she’s been asking for you. Go, Harrison, I can stay here as long as you need me to.”
I tore off toward the hospital, fighting to keep myself from driving too far over the speed limit. Wrecking on the way over there wasn’t going to do either one of us any good.
I found the nurses’ station and was directed to Becka’s room. It was semiprivate, so at least she wasn’t in Intensive Care. One side of her face was scraped, and her right arm was in a cast. Her room was an explosion of color and scent; someone had already gone out of their way to make her feel cared for.
“Hey there. Are you okay?”
She nodded as she offered me a slight smile. “I think so. They just gave me something for the pain. I don’t feel like there’s really any reason for me to stay here overnight, but they want to keep an eye on me. Evidently I blacked out at some point.”
“So what happened?” I asked as I stood beside her bed.
“It was the craziest thing. I was jogging by the Gunpowder like I always do, when somebody came out of nowhere, shoved me, and I twisted my ankle and fell. I had my headphones on. I didn’t even hear them coming up behind me. The next thing I knew I was being pulled ou
t of the river.” She rubbed her scalp with her free hand and added, “They tell me it’s not unusual to forget parts of what happened when there’s a head injury.”
Trying to lighten the mood, I pointed to the flowers and said, “What’s all this? I didn’t know you had so many admirers.”
She looked troubled. ‘They were just delivered a few minutes ago. You mean they’re not from you?”
“Becka, we’re just friends. This is a little extravagant for my budget even if we were engaged.” Becka and I had had a rocky time together, and there was no way I’d ever date her again, though I was happy to be her friend. There was just always too much pressure when I was in a relationship with her. Nothing was ever good enough, and I never lived up to my potential, at least as far as she was concerned.
She looked crestfallen. “I just thought...you know...”
I pulled out the card on the closest arrangement and asked, “Is it okay if I read this?”
“Go right ahead,” she said.
The card was inscribed, ‘From someone who loves you’. I said, “So you really don’t know who this is from.”
“Not a clue. Like I said, I was kind of hoping it was you.”
I reached for the telephone, then dialed the number off the florist on the card. After a brief conversation, I hung up and explained, “They said it was a cash transaction from a messenger service. No way to trace it, I’m afraid.”
Her eyes widened. “Do you think they’re from him? Why would he try to kill me, and then shower me with flowers?”
“Who are you talking about?”
Urgently, she said, “My stalker. I know they’re from him. Get them out of here, Harrison, they’re creeping me out.”
“Take it easy,” I said. “We don’t know they’re from him.”
“Who else would send them? Get rid of them. Now.” Her voice was loud and shrill. At least there was no one sharing her room at the moment.
A nurse popped her head in. “Is there a problem here?”