Hanging by a Thread

by Margaret Evans

And a scraggly, itchy, nasty orange beard for Jade.

  Laura emailed everyone and directed them to wear black leggings or pants and short black jackets. They should all go buy them as quickly as possible if they didn’t already own these items, as well as the black shoes and socks. She asked them for their t-shirt sizes and ordered the emerald green tees online once she received everyone’s responses. That way, the colors would all match. Some of the committee members were a little miffed that she wasn’t sewing them original costumes, except for her three friends who knew what her life was like.

  Rina asked if she could check off the box next to costumes, and Laura advised her, “Not yet, but very soon. Stay tuned; I’ll call you.”

  Laura also ordered big flowery, four-leaf clovers that could be pinned on the black jacket lapels. All of these things would help the team stand out if anyone needed assistance either at the parade or the gala.

  Whenever she thought about Jade Olson Wilkin, she kept seeing the woman with a scratchy, scruffy, orange beard around her jaw line. It took about three minutes for Laura to find an online source for the beards. She ordered several for the men, or any of the women who wanted to wear one for fun, as well as ten matching curly orange wigs. If they didn’t want to wear them, she would sell them in the shop, but it would be their loss because the whole point of the parade was to be silly and have fun.

  Laura spent the evening as she did every evening now, filling out tax forms and filing them, straightening out lots of people’s financial affairs, making fresh green caramel popcorn, setting up more green and Irish products in her shop and wondering more about the non-missing money at the bank and how the perp or perps had pulled it off. Something bothered her about the whole affair. It just didn’t seem straightforward.

  How convenient that Paul Dotson would disappear and then the fraud was discovered in an FBI investigation, even though it apparently had gone on for years. How odd that Jessica Wright, who had known him and even dated him, according to one source, had disappeared recently, as well. And what about the missing bank funds? There had to be more to this than met anyone’s eyes.

  She fell asleep wondering how she had gotten herself into this latest vortex and what she could do to help everyone, including herself, get out of it.

  sixteen

  Two people met late in the dark alley behind a bar in Duluth. They could not see each other’s faces in the dim, yellow light of the single bulb with a cloudy, bug-filled glass cover outside the club’s back door. A third stood next to the door, leaning against the wall, one knee bent with a foot against the same wall. The glint from a cigarette was the only bright thing about the meeting.

  Money and product were exchanged.

  Then a disagreement broke out.

  “This is not what I paid for!” the buyer cried.

  The man with the cigarette straightened his knee and brought his second foot to the ground. His hand now rested on the gun tucked in his pants, hidden by a loose shirt. He took a deep drag on his cigarette and stood ready.

  “The price went up, and we looked for another product for you. This is a good one. Trust me.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “It’s good and will work the same. Believe me.”

  “What’s the new price for the one I was buying before?”

  “Actually, we had a problem, and I can’t get it for you anymore—nobody can—and if I could, because it’s so tricky now, it would cost you a lot more.”

  “What’s the effect?”

  “Same as before. Make you feel good. Forget your troubles and stresses. Help you through the day. All your problems go away, including that wrist pain thing you told me about.”

  The one who had made the purchase, looked at the package and didn’t remember telling the dealer about the wrist injury, but then, there were a few things now and then that didn’t get remembered, even when the proof that they had been done and said was often right there.

  “Okay, I’ll try it, but it better work.”

  The dealer and his muscle waited in the alley until the buyer had left.

  “That was good, boss.”

  “And wait until they try it. Somebody won’t want to stop.” He punched his muscle in the arm. “We just made an excellent investment, and you know how much I love good investments.”

  The two laughed as they walked to their car.

  The dealer knew a good thing when he saw it, and he always knew exactly when to raise the stakes. And the price. And his income.

  •••

  The buyer walked back to the side street parking space, staring at the package a few minutes before it went into a leather bag. The wrist throbbing began again. It was doubtful the drug existed that would make everything better or at the very least, the way it was before the bicycle accident. The pain and problems seemed to get worse every year, and the solutions more expensive. Real doctors had given up on the wrist; too many bones had been broken and physical therapy had its limitations. Legit painkillers were getting harder to obtain, given the new focus on opioid addictions. They’d cut off the prescriptions way too early and suggested acupuncture—hah! The distress was great right now, and hopefully, this new pill would help.

  Funny how things worked. A perfectly good wrist was wrecked seven years ago in a simple bicycle accident, except, well, not so simple. Being hit by a car turning a corner was never simple. One day you’re whole and everything’s perfect, moving up the job ladder, great life plans, and then wham. The next day, you’ve got lots of pain and injuries that no one can fix. Everything changes. Yeah, funny how life was.

  Except it wasn’t funny at all, and there was a lot of work to do with so many things about to happen, so many plans unfolding.

  Lots to do.

  seventeen

  The call from Alison Fitzpatrick on Saturday morning long before the shop opened and Laura’s eyes were fully open was not unexpected. Connor’s birthday was on St. Patrick’s Day, and she remembered when they were little how he thought the parades and galas were all to celebrate his birthday. Green became his favorite color. She recalled his devastation at finding out from his older brother that it was not. Ian hadn’t been very kind in the way he had told his little brother. Words like “stupid” and “moron” were in the telling.

  “I want you to help us with planning a really nice party, Laura. Can you? I know it’s your busy tax time, but I was hoping you could spare us a little of your sense of fun.”

  Laura wouldn’t miss this for the world.

  “Of course I have time. How do you want to do this? Do you want me to come over?”

  At the hesitation in the conversation, Laura realized Alison was trying to figure out how to tell Laura they wanted to meet at Shannon’s house. Shannon was Connor’s older sister, and the middle child in the family. She’d always been nice to Laura, but she now resided, with her husband and baby in the house next door to the Fitzpatrick family, the house in which Laura had lived with her parents for fifteen years.

  “Alison, I would love to see what Shannon has done with the place. I wouldn’t mind going inside. I know it would be easier because of the baby to meet there.”

  Laura heard the audible sigh of relief and was then given the instructions for when and what to bring.

  “This isn’t a surprise, is it?”

  “Oh, yes, dear. It is.”

  “You know he always knew when you planned a surprise for him.”

  “Yes, that was part of the game. This year, he really will get a surprise.”

  “How do you plan that?”

  “Well, Connor is three-quarters Irish, but he’s also one quarter French. And we’re thinking of planning a French party.”

  “I didn’t know about the French. Sounds like fun. But he’ll still expect a party.”

  “Not the way we’re doing it this year he won’t. He�
��ll never suspect a thing.”

  Laura chuckled. She didn’t argue, but he always knew.

  “Where’s it going to be and how do you plan to trick him into going there?”

  “That’s where you come in, Laura. We can talk about it at Shannon’s.”

  Laura had no idea how this would work as Connor suspected everything was a trick around his birthday, and yet they all kept trying to surprise him. She had watched his family try different things as they grew up. He was never surprised.

  After the call, she reflected on their ages. Connor would be twenty-eight, an age she couldn’t have comprehended as “still young” when she had said good-bye to him eleven and one-half years ago. She recalled how he used to tease her after his birthday that he was really two years older than she, since her birthday wasn’t until September. She had just turned twenty-six two months before she drove back to Minnesota from Maryland last fall. Only a few months had passed since that trek to the place she called home, but it seemed like an age, and sometimes it felt as if she had never left.

  Except she had missed watching Connor grow into a man. She’d felt cheated at first, and she knew he did, as well, regarding her, but the pair had come to a good place where they were comfortable with each other again.

  •••

  The shop opened to immediate trouble with Dr. Colin Anderson as the first customer.

  Laura recalled that he had handed her roses for Valentine’s Day just as Connor walked into the store. Tall and good looking, he had behaved nicely toward her in the past, seemingly concerned for her health and welfare, but she hadn’t yet figured out his motives. And that bothered her. What would happen today she could not guess, but she suspected it wouldn’t be anything good. She was hoping for neutral.

  “Good morning, Dr. Anderson,” she greeted him, holding the door open for him to enter after she unlocked it. The bells jangled as it closed behind him.

  “Hello, Laura,” he responded, ignoring her formal greeting and following her as she hurried past him to the counter behind which she parked herself.

  She put a look of high expectations on her face.

  “What can I sell you today?”

  He chuckled, looking around the store.

  “You’ve got a lot of Irish-themed items, I see. Actually, I just stopped by to see how you’re doing. You’ve had a couple of close calls lately. I’m concerned about your mental and emotional health. Do you need anything to relax or sleep? I can help you there.”

  Laura wished for someone to come into the shop at that moment and her fairy godmother granted that wish. She exhaled in tune with the bells on the door and was grateful to turn her eyes to an actual, potential customer.

  “I’m good, Dr. Anderson. Thanks, but I don’t need anything. Sleeping just fine,” she finished, leaving the safety of the counter to offer help to the lady who was checking out Laura’s Irish teacup collection.

  Just as she did so, Eric Williams came in, along with three other customers. This action appeared to be the signal to Anderson to leave. The two men nodded to each other as they passed in the store.

  Anderson’s last act was to call out to Laura from the door.

  “Just let me know, Laura. Take care.”

  And then he was gone.

  Eric Williams, of late, had waited for Laura to handle her customers before approaching her, instead of barging forward as he had done from the first day she’d opened her shop last fall and throughout the winter. Maybe she was earning his respect. Or maybe he was finally growing up.

  As Laura bagged a customer’s purchase and handed the lady her change, she noticed a boy of about nine or ten years near the counter and Eric’s interaction with the boy.

  The child stopped, looked up at Eric, and froze.

  Laura turned an ear toward the pair. She caught the tail-end of Eric’s comment to the boy.

  “Do you want to go to jail?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “Then either pay for what you want or put it back. And don’t do anything like that ever again. Okay?”

  The boy reluctantly pulled some cash from his pocket and put the green wax teeth, three crumpled dollar bills and a heap of coins on the counter.

  “Is that enough?”

  Laura took the money that would cover the fake teeth and gave the boy a smile.

  “Thank you,” she said and left the rest of the money on the counter. “Do you want a receipt?”

  “Yeah. I want a receipt. Please.”

  As she printed out a receipt for the boy, she caught him giving a look to Eric, who waited for the transaction to finish. She handed him a little bag with the teeth and the receipt tucked inside and thanked him again for the purchase.

  The boy scooped his money off the counter, checking with Williams again as he turned to leave. And it startled Laura, but she saw the boy wait until Eric nodded to him. The door jangled shut behind him.

  Laura and Eric were alone in the store for a moment.

  “What was that all about? Did he try to steal them?”

  Williams nodded.

  “How did you convince him not to do that? I heard you telling him about going to jail. I hope you didn’t threaten him—did you?”

  “No, I just told him that the wax teeth had an electronic chip in them that isn’t deactivated until he pays for them. If he walked out without paying, he would get caught because the police could track it and find him and then he’d go to jail. I added that he couldn’t play digital games or go on the Internet at jail. He’d only get to play outside once a day when it wasn’t raining or snowing. Mean guards would be telling him what to do and when to do it all day long. Then I asked him if he wanted to go to jail.”

  “Oh, my God, Eric. I’m going to get a call from his parents now and maybe a complaint to the police.”

  “No, you won’t. I’m the one who told him, and besides, it worked. And if I hadn’t stopped him, he would probably have grown up to rob a bank.”

  At her look of horror, he continued.

  “Don’t you remember what the nuns told us as kids? It always starts small, like stealing a pencil. From there it grows into robbing banks. Now let’s talk about a deal on the extension for your car insurance that I found you.”

  She did remember the indoctrination from the lower grades but switched to her car insurance. Was it that close to renewal? Her eyes were drawn to the lines of his jaw, and she saw the surgical scar not far from his left ear, from the accident while playing football.

  He noticed her look.

  “So he told you.” A statement, not a question.

  She met his eyes, embarrassed she’d been caught.

  “Yes. When exactly does my car insurance expire? I didn’t think the renewal came up until October.”

  “He probably didn’t tell it right. It was my fault. Yes, your renewal is the end of October, but I heard by the grapevine that your carrier is going to raise rates for next year and I found a deal for you that if you extend right now for two years, you will not get the hike for those two years.”

  “I understand your thinking that he didn’t tell it right, but I don’t want to get involved. How much do I have to pay up front for the early two-year renewal and how come I didn’t know about this?”

  “You are right smack in the middle of it, Laura Keene, and you know that. Two hundred fifty dollars up front amortized across future payments and nobody wants the consumer to know that these deals are available. It’s a highly protected practice across all industries. This is a really good deal.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. So how come you know about the deal?”

  “We won’t if you don’t want to. Just remember Connor was not to blame—my stupidity and immaturity was. It’s totally due to my respect in the insurance industry. I know people.”

  “Okay. Sign me up.
”

  As Williams magically brought forth the anticipated paperwork for Laura’s signature, he filled out most of it and Laura wrote a check for the two-year renewal. As she signed the form, Eric asked her about Anderson’s visit.

  “What did Colin Anderson want?”

  “He was concerned about my health after Connor’s and my latest brush with murderous criminals. He offered me sleeping pills in case I needed them.”

  Eric stared at her.

  “You didn’t ask for them? He just offered them to you?”

  She nodded.

  “And relaxing drugs. I presume he meant Prozac or Zoloft. At least those are the ones I see advertised on TV. He’s not even my regular physician. Just being friendly and helpful, I guess.”

  Williams turned inward a moment then asked her for an update on the sports jacket.

  “Yes,” she said. “The police have it. Why are you interested?”

  He shrugged.

  “Just curious. Did Connor tell you about the guy who went missing?”

  She nodded, although much of her information had come from the archives of the Raging Ford Bulletin. Connor had added nothing, but she didn’t want to get into a discussion with Eric Williams about the case.

  “Anything new on the gold threads?” he continued to probe as he filled in the last part of the form and signed his name below her signature.

  “Jenna saw the threads and thought they were from a specific and very exclusive designer. I don’t know anything else.”

  “Probably Gems by Jem,” he said, leaving Laura to wonder how he knew about the high end couturier.

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes. Thanks. I don’t make much on these little extensions, but I do make a lot of ‘goodwill’ on them.”

  Eric seemed satisfied about the jacket and the gold threads, but why he was even interested intrigued her. After he left, Laura recalled the incident Connor had recently related to her about his and Eric’s days on the high school football squad just after her parents’ double murder. Eric had taunted Connor on the practice field about his favorite fan—Laura—not being there to ensure he caught all the balls thrown his way. Connor had blown his stack and chased Williams off the field, but Eric tripped over the ice cooler and hit a bench, breaking his jaw. Both were out for the year. Neither returned to football, each for his own personal reason.