Paint the Town Dead (13 page)

“I know. It's another one of those things people say. Did you tell Detective Shoar about this squabble?”

She blinked. “No. He didn't question us, and I didn't think to go to him. You think I should?”

“Actually, I do. Have you seen the blonde since Saturday morning?”

“No, I'd remember if I had.”

“Do you think Grant might've seen her while he was covering the counter?”

“Doubtful. He's been back in the kitchen baking or in the office most of the time since Friday.”

Great Buns didn't serve full meals like the Lilies Café did, but they made a few specialty sandwiches on thick slices of heavenly fresh-baked bread.

I wolfed down the rest of my sandwich and latte and slipped a ten-dollar bill on the counter by my plate. “I need
to get back to walk the dog and cat, but call Shoar, will you? It could help Doralee.”

“Which would get your Aunt Sherry Mae off your back, I know. By the way, since when did you adopt pets?”

“How did you know about them?” I asked, sliding off the tall chair.

“I saw you with them a few mornings ago, but I was too busy to pop out and say hi. Where did you find them?”

“Actually, they found me.”

“They sure are cuties,” she sang out as I hustled to the door. “Bring them by some morning. Or maybe I'll meet them if I can cut out of here and get to one of your grand opening events.”

*   *   *

A brisk walk later and I was back at the emporium. Mindful of Dr. Barklay's warning about giving Amber lots of exercise, I tossed a tennis ball in the parking lot for her a dozen times. She loped back immediately each time she fetched while T.C. stretched out on the blacktop and became absorbed in licking her entire silky coat. Neither seemed interested in wandering off. Good deal. Not worrying about them gave me the time to think more about my conversation with Judy.

And to think back to the video and still photos of the strangers in sunglasses who'd been in the store last week. Specifically, on Friday afternoon. Eleanor, who was becoming more and more tech savvy by the day, was to have downloaded the stills to the communal farmhouse laptop so she and the others of the Silver Six could see the photos on a larger screen. She was supposed to send me any pictures that might be worth a closer look. Had she sent them? I didn't remember getting an e-mail from her, but then I hadn't checked my mail in days and she hadn't mentioned sending anything.

Okay, so Doralee's class was held Thursday evening, and
the in-store demo with Aunt Sherry on Friday afternoon. Judy witnessed an argument between Kim and a blonde on Saturday late morning. About a ring. Maybe she was talking about the opal Kim wanted Doralee to fork over? That seemed odd since the opal was a loose stone.

The key point was that Judy could verify if my Friday shade-wearing blonde was her Saturday confronting-Kim blonde. If so, and adding the overheard threat, Eric would have another suspect to pursue. I had a strong suspicion that suspect would turn out to be Margot, Kim's former sister- in-law.

Okay, so stabbing someone was a long stretch from a body clip with a golf cart. And I couldn't picture how Margot would've come to have the supposed murder weapon, Doralee's awl. But hey, the blonde had threatened Kim, and sometimes threats weren't so idle.

Not that I didn't trust Judy to follow through, but I'd call Eric later and nudge him to pay a visit to Great Buns. Now, though, it was time to start getting the store ready to open.

I allowed both T.C. and Amber into the retail area while I set up chairs for the day's demos. Still energized from their outing, they darted around my feet talking to each other. Or that's what it sounded like this morning.

I happily endured the trip hazard and critter chatter. They'd initially been so quiet, it tickled me to see them being playful. Yes, the activity might lead them to shed more, but hopefully not enough to trigger a customer's allergies. I'd do a quick swipe with the dusters after I took them back to Fred's space.

Twenty minutes before we were to open, sharp rapping summoned me to answer the emporium's glass front door. Eleanor had texted me that the Silver Six would be late, so I was alone in the store, and for a second, I feared it was Ernie showing up to harangue me again, but no.

An elderly woman with elegantly styled gray hair rapped again, this time on the door frame with the curved handle
of her cane. Tall with just the barest stoop, she wore a simple tailored blue pantsuit with sensible flats. Her heavily powdered face lit with a smile when she saw me.

“We aren't open yet,” I hollered through the door even as I opened it a crack.

“My name is Ruth Kreider, dear, and I surely am sorry to intrude,” the lady said in a soft but firm voice, “but I must see you before I get back on the road to Little Rock.”

“Um, all right, then,” I said, swinging the door wide to admit her. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Kreider?”

“Call me Ruth. I've come to see the animals you found.”

“Oh my goodness, here they are!” Ruth cried as Amber and T.C. scampered to greet her, Amber's nails clicking like crazy on the hardwood floor. For a second, I feared they might jump on her, but they sat quivering at Ruth's feet talking to her.

Yes, talking. I'd heard the T.C. meow,
murp
, and chirp more frequently in the last few days, but nothing like she was doing for Ruth. Now she went through that repertoire and added more. Amber, who was normally the quieter of the two except for the occasional
bark-aroo
, voiced excited whines while wagging her whole body. My heart sank a little in my chest.

“Hello, darlings, hello,” Ruth cooed. Clearly she wanted to pet them, but just as clearly had difficulty bending to reach them.

“Come sit, Ruth,” I said as I cupped her elbow to guide her to a folding chair.

The animals backed up to get out of the way of both her feet and her cane. I swore they understood that she needed
more space to move than I did. They parked themselves square in front of her as soon as she hooked her cane on the upright stave and was settled.

“Let me look at you, you sweet things!” She patted her lap, and T.C. leaped lightly into it while Amber stood next to the chair, paws on the edge of the seat, panting at Ruth with an adoring look on her puppyish face.

Ruth's visit, and especially the reaction of the critters, caught me off guard, and I fumbled to find my equilibrium.

“Are these your pets?”

I'd be happy if she were their rightful owner. Of course I would. They were deliriously happy to see her. I could feel some sadness creeping in, too, but I shoved that emotion away, and waited for her to fend off enthusiastic licks before she answered.

“No, dear, they aren't mine. These little ones lived with my neighbor down near Minden.”

I blinked. “Minden, Louisiana?” That's where Doralee said Kim had been raised.

Ruth nodded, one hand on each critter. “We lived in the country, well, I still do. But my neighbor, Doris Roche, bless her soul, is the one who took in Blackie and Tiger.”

“Blackie and Tiger?” I echoed, still reeling.

“Not terribly original, I grant you, but we don't much cotton to fancy names for pets in the county. Doris was the salt of the earth.”

I lowered myself to a chair beside Ruth. “You said Doris took in these animals. Were they strays?”

“Indeed. They showed up at her back door one day—they were even smaller then—and simply stayed. Well, Doris had been feeling poorly and wasn't getting around so good, but these babies perked her right up. Didn't you?” she asked T.C. and Amber. Or should I be calling them Tiger and Blackie?

“Um, Ruth, we noticed that both animals had been spayed. Did Doris take care of that?”

“She surely did. My grandson and his friend got some vouchers from a humane society, then drove Doris and her new pets to the vet. She had their shots done first. Two rounds of them. Then she got more vouchers and had the veterinarian fix them. Didn't she, sweeties?”

Ruth paused to lavish attention on the critters. T.C. made a
meep
sound as if meowing while she purred. Amber panted happily and gave Ruth's arm a lick now and then.

“How old were they when Doris took them in?”

“The doctor figured they were already a good five months old, so it was the right time to have them fixed. He wanted to put those identity chips in them, too, but Doris couldn't afford it. Those vouchers didn't pay for everything, you know. They only defrayed some of the costs. But Tiger and Blackie gave her so much love and attention, she was happy to spend the money she could spare.”

I nodded absently. I couldn't call the critters by their old names. Those didn't seem to fit any longer, but I wanted to know a bit more about their history.

“How long were they with Doris?”

Ruth met my gaze with a sheen of tears in her green eyes. “Until the end, dear. About four months after these two showed up, Doris died at home. In fact, Blackie here got out the screen door and ran to my house over a mile away to fetch me. I'm embarrassed to say that in all the confusion of calling out the paramedics and deputies and the chaos, I lost track of Blackie and Tiger. I didn't even remember them until two days later, and by then they had gone.”

“If Doris was ill, I'm surprised she kept the animals. They never got underfoot?”

Ruth tilted her head at me. “You know, I worried about that and mentioned it to Doris. She said her furry angels—that's what she called them—were as calm and well behaved as could be. I saw it for myself, too.” Ruth sighed. “They could be playful and distracted her from her pain with their antics, and then they'd curl up with her when she rested.
They gave Doris so much happiness before she passed on. It may be whimsy, but I always thought they came to Doris for that reason—to lighten her load those last months.”

“I wonder where they've been since Doris passed.”

Ruth chuckled. “Doris and I used to speculate where they'd been before they came to her. We laughed about them having one of those adventures out of a Disney movie. The kind where the animals travel to reunite with their owners, except these two were looking for a new owner. Or owners, I suppose, now that they've found you.”

“I can see that,” I agreed with a smile, watching her continue to lavish attention on the critters.

“Well, dear, wherever they've been, they've found you now. They deserve another good home.”

I avoided her pointed comment. “Ruth, how did you find out about them being here?”

“Why, dear, my grandson's friend saw them on a computer. The two boys—well, they aren't boys, they're grown men—helped me around my place, and helped Doris, too.”

I frowned. “And your grandson's friend told you?”

“Well, no, Rusty called Ray, my grandson, and Ray called me. He knew I was coming this way, and that I'd been worried about these two. He suggested I stop by and hopefully put my mind at rest. And now I have.”

“So Ray and Rusty knew T.C. and Amber?”

“Is that what you call them, dear? I like those names. Yes, they knew these babies. They'd take the animals out for a romp when they worked over at Doris's. Fact is, they knew the animals better than I did, and I visited Doris several times a week.” She paused, and seemed to shake herself. “Now then, I must be going. My daughter's driving me all the way to Little Rock for a little reunion with some old friends. She went to top off the gas tank after she dropped me off, but she's likely to be circling the block by now.”

As if sensing Ruth's intent, T.C. jumped down from her
lap, and Amber backed up as if she knew to give the woman room to move. I unhooked Ruth's cane and then held her elbow to stabilize her as she stood.

“You two be good now,” Ruth said to the critters as I escorted her out of the store. “Maybe I'll come visit again on my way back home.”

Amber barked, her tail wagging. T.C. meowed and rubbed her cheek on Ruth's leg before padding away to sit with her canine bud.

“You're most welcome to stop in any time,” I said.

I helped Ruth to her daughter's car, said a quick hello to Marilyn, a fiftyish woman with a slightly harried smile, and returned to the store deep in thought.

I found myself at the checkout counter absently gazing at the cash register. More or less the same spot I'd placed my tablet to run the slide show of the pets beginning on Friday around noon.

Amber and T.C. had lived with Doris outside Minden. The town Kim had lived in. Odd, but coincidences did happen, even whoppers. I never thought the six degrees of separation theory would connect animals to humans, but what did I know? The how and why of the critters showing up on my doorstep was as much a puzzle as Bernice Gilroy was.

Odder still, Ruth said the family friend had seen photos of Amber and T.C. on a computer, but where could he have seen them? I hadn't had time to put their pictures on social media, or to e-mail them to Dr. Barklay the vet, or to Miranda Huston at the shelter. I felt sure Eleanor would've told me if she had posted them elsewhere.

All of which meant that the friend, Rusty, had to have seen photos of the critters on my tablet in the store on Friday or Saturday because, in all the chaos, I'd forgotten to run the slide show on Monday.

So why didn't this Rusty guy tell us on the spot that he knew the animals?

*   *   *

The Silver Six were as puzzled about the mysterious Rusty as I was, but delighted that Ruth had visited and been able to give me background on the critters. I admit it was a good thing to have the question of ownership settled.

Was I ready for T.C. and Amber to truly be mine?

I put that question and Ruth aside to get on with my real job of managing the emporium.

Rose Eden from the Happy Garden Florist catty-corner across the square from the emporium was slated as the morning's craft presenter. Aster knew Rose better than the other ladies of the Silver Six did, so had issued the invitation to demonstrate her art. Aster knew the garden club ladies, too. We expected a good turnout from that quarter, and I hoped we'd get it.

“I don't attend the garden club meetings as much as I did a few years ago,” Aster confided as we all gathered around the counter waiting for Rose. Even Dab and Fred had lingered with cups of coffee. “I just didn't have as much time after Maise and I moved in with Sherry Mae.”

“Do you still pay dues?” I asked.

“The club never charged dues. No one wanted to deal with all that formal, legal stuff, but I'm still on the roster, and I get meeting notices. You know,” she said, tapping her chin and giving me a piercing look, “you should think about joining some local organizations.”

“I can't agree more,” Maise chimed in. “They're great for meeting people and networking.”

“If the garden club isn't your style,” Eleanor said, “I do believe there is a book club.”

I cringed. “The book club meets at the library, and I'm still a persona non grata with the head librarian.”

“Over that murder business this spring?” Aster asked. “Don't worry. Debbie Nicole will come around.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but I
have
been meeting people. Grant and Judy at Great Buns Bakery. Carter and Kay at Gaskin's Business Center. Greg Masters, our tech guy. Plus, I belong to the Chamber of Commerce. We all do. We volunteered for the holiday lights committee.”

Fred humphed. “You volunteered us.”

“Because you want to move the folk art festival from the farmhouse grounds into town this fall,” Sherry added.

“Y'all agreed it would be a good idea to get Lilyvale businesses involved.”

“Not to mention,” Dab piped up, “Chamber sponsorship is smoothing the way to get permits and whatnot.”

“Which reminds me,” Sherry said, “we need to follow up on that. I'll send out an e-mail. Meantime, Nixy, it wouldn't hurt you to find your own organizations and connect with more people your age.”

“Not that you wouldn't be welcome anywhere, including the garden club,” Aster assured me. “The club does more than hold meetings. Last year they organized a group tour to Eureka Springs to see the fall color.”

“I went, too,” Sherry said. “We should all do that together now that you live here, Nixy. I'll bet you've never gone leaf-peeping.”

“Sounds fun,” I said, and I meant it, but I didn't ask who would run the emporium if we all took off to see the fall foliage.

I wandered to the front windows, glad to leave the subject of clubs behind. I'd been a joiner in my school days on a limited basis, and I'd put myself out there to meet people and make friends. After college, I'd left joining behind. When I worked in the art gallery in Houston, I was too busy, and I didn't want to fight traffic to attend meetings. Here in Lilyvale, traffic jams were more or less nonexistent, and the time it took to get from one end of town to another averaged fifteen minutes, tops. I might have a harder time holding out if the Silver Six pressed the club-joining thing.

But for now, I was concerned that Rose wasn't in the store yet. We were fifteen minutes short of her session starting.

As I headed over to round her up, I spotted her pulling a laden wagon along the sidewalk. I jogged out to help, and we soon had her paraphernalia arranged on two folding tables. Just in time for the ladies of the Lilyvale Garden Club to inspect her wares—vases of various heights and widths, wonderfully fragrant real flowers and vibrantly colored silk ones, and supplies like wires, picks, and floral tape.

Aster gave Rose the perfect introduction with an extra few plugs for the Happy Garden, and the presentation flowed beautifully. Except for Rose's occasional sniffling. Talk about irony. The poor woman who adored flowers suffered from allergies to them, and her medications hadn't kicked in enough to cancel her symptoms. Still, her demonstration of floral designs was a hit, and she allowed us to keep the silk flower arrangement for the big giveaway drawing on Saturday.