The Cracked Pot (10 page)

She reluctantly agreed, and we moved over to her sales counter where she had two chairs poised nearby. "What would you like to talk about?"

"It's about what happened last night," I said.

"Why? What happened?"

"You mean you haven't heard?" I asked. I'd been sure some branch of the Maple Ridge grapevine would have reached her by now, but evidently I was mistaken.

"I went to bed early last night, and I haven't spoken to anyone this morning. What is it, Carolyn?"

"Somebody killed Richard Atkins in my backyard last night."

I was watching her face, but she showed no reaction at all. It was as if she already knew, but that didn't match what she'd just told me.

"So, it finally happened," she said after a moment.

"You don't seem all that surprised, if you don't mind me saying so," I said.

"I'm long past letting anything catch me off guard," she said. "If you'll excuse me, there's someone I need to call be fore I open."

I hoped it wasn't Don. "Do me a favor, don't tell anyone I told you, okay?"

"Why not? Is it some kind of secret? You did call the po lice, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," I said as I stood. "I just don't want any one to think I'm being cold, talking about it like this."

"Certainly. Now I really must make that call."

I walked outside, and Rose locked the door behind me. I gave her twenty seconds, then I took out my cell phone and dialed my uncle's telephone number. It was busy. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but I doubted it. Until I knew differ ent, I was going to assume that Rose had phoned my uncle. Why would she call him, though? To tell him the news, or perhaps to thank him? I wasn't sure how I could find out, but I didn't want to attract unwanted attention by standing in front of Rose's locked shop hitting redial every seven seconds. I headed toward Fire at Will.

As I walked past Hattie's Attic, I didn't even think about Kendra Williams, I was so focused on wondering what my uncle and Rose were up to. Kendra wasn't about to let me just pass her by, though.

"How dreadful for you." I didn't need to see the faded muumuu to realize Kendra was talking to me.

"I could say the same thing to you," I said.

She looked taken aback by my comment. "Whatever are you talking about? Are you in some kind of shock after finding that dreadful man's body?"

I leaned in toward her, something that made her uncom fortable, if the sour expression on her face was any indica tion. "I'm fine, but I wonder if you are."

"You're talking nonsense," she said, taking two steps back toward the safety of her shop.

"Am I?" I followed her, matching my steps with hers.

"I've got to go." She was in full retreat now.

"I'm right behind you." It was nice unnerving her for a change, but it wasn't going to get me any information. Be fore she could escape inside Hattie's Attic, I said, "You must be relieved the man's dead."

"Carolyn, I'm willing to make allowances, given what happened last night, but I won't stand here and be insulted like this."

"Would you rather go inside and sit down?" I asked. "We can do this in your shop, if you'd like."

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but you're not going to browbeat me in front of my own place of busi ness. I'll thank you not to come back until you can act nor mally."

"No promises there, Kendra," I said.

She nearly ran inside, and I waited to hear the dead bolt slam shut, but apparently even my behavior wasn't enough to keep her from losing a sale. Kendra was jumpy, but I didn't know if it was because of what had happened the night before, or the way I was acting. No matter how much joy it gave me to see her off balance, I couldn't afford to alienate her by applying too much pressure.

I walked over to Fire at Will and unlocked the front door. A part of me was hoping David would greet me as I walked in, but there was no sign of him—until I walked in back. There I saw my comforter spread out on the couch and some wrappers from a convenience store on the floor beside it. It had to have been David. While I would have normally fussed at him for not cleaning up his messes or warning me he'd be camping out in my back room, I didn't care. At least it meant he was still all right.

I picked up the phone next to the couch and had started to dial Hannah's number when I heard tapping on the front door. I still had two minutes until I officially opened. Who ever was out there would just have to wait. Hannah's phone kicked me straight to voice mail. I said quickly, "It's Caro lyn. Call me as soon as you get this."

I hung up and looked out the front window. It was my dapper elderly gentleman from the day before. He was back to finish up his house. I vowed not to lift a finger, to make him do the glazing himself.

After turning on the lights, I unlocked the door, and he bolted in past me. "Sorry to be so impatient," he said, "but I just couldn't wait."

"That's fine," I said. "Let's see how it turned out." I led him back to the kiln and opened the top. It was cool enough to reach in and pull out his clay house. "There it is," I said.

"It's all pink," he said, obviously a little disappointed in the hue of the building.

"Remember, we're going to paint it next, so it won't stay that way."

He looked over my shoulder and saw the nearly full kiln. I said, "I had a few other things to add at the last second. Things fire more uniformly if it's a full load."

"Rightly so," he said. "You don't want to waste the elec tricity either. It is electric, isn't it? I don't see any gas lines."

"I have a gas kiln at home," I said, "but we use electric ones here." I wasn't going to finish unloading the kiln with him standing there, but he must have spotted the house I'd made after I retrieved his. "Did you do another one?"

"It was fun, so I decided to make one, too," I admitted.

He looked delighted. "Well, bring it out. Let's see what you've come up with."

He took my decidedly more eccentric house and studied it as carefully as if it were an architectural rendition instead of a flight of my whimsy.

Finally, he declared, "It's perfect. You must glaze yours along beside me."

He was paying for the privilege, and besides, it sounded like fun. "Let's pick out some colors then. Do you have any thing special in mind?"

"Of course. The exterior should be a gray pristine enough to represent a weathered shade of white, while the windows should be painted forest green. The roof needs to be a brown, the tint of autumn loam, and the chimney should be faded red."

Okay, that was a little more specific than I'd been look ing for, but he certainly gave me a good set of guidelines. I started pulling out paints and mixing to get the shades he was after. He looked at the palette with obvious disappoint ment. "My, those are rather muted, aren't they?"

"Wait until they go through the kiln. I think you'll be happy with the colors I've come up with."

He frowned at the paints as if he didn't believe me.

"Look, it's as easy as this," I said as I grabbed a brush and started laying on the main body tint.

When I finished, I handed him the brush. At least I tried to. He refused, saying, "I just don't have the touch you seem to. Would you mind?"

It was beginning to look as though this project was all mine, but I didn't have any other customers, and he had paid for the privilege with his firing fee the day before. Besides, I enjoyed painting pieces. "How's that look?" I asked when I'd finished.

"Rather bland, I'm afraid."

"I'll tell you what, if you're still disappointed after it's been fired, I'll refund your fee. How's that sound?" What was I saying? I'd already spent some of the hundred he'd given me, and here I was offering a full refund. I suddenly had more at stake than I had intended.

"I couldn't do that," he said. "Will you be firing again tonight?"

I didn't want to, since there weren't enough pieces to make it worth the expense, but I was feeling bad about tak ing so much before. "For you, I'll run it through tonight."

"Excellent," he said. "Do you mind if I watch you deco rate yours? I'm in a bit of a rush, but I'd love to see your preliminary step."

"Why not?" I chose a rusty red and dusty blue to deco rate my cottage, then added some ivy outside as an after thought.

"What was that last bit?"

"I thought some ivy would look good crawling up the outside of my place," I said. "Would you like some on yours?"

"No, there's no ivy on mine," he said resolutely. I had to give him credit. He had the most specific imagination I'd ever run into. "Same time tomorrow?"

"I'll have it ready for you," I said.

I don't know if I would have taken another hundred if he'd offered it, but it didn't matter, because he didn't. Where was Hannah, and why wasn't she calling me back? I thought about trying her again, but I knew she was extraor dinarily conscientious about returning her calls. I'd give her more time. In the meantime, I decided I might as well fill up that kiln, so I decorated another batch of my ornaments that I'd bisque fired the week before. I enjoyed doing them, let ting my imagination run wild with the colors and designs. After I'd stacked the kiln, I decided to go ahead with the fir ing.

It was a good morning's worth of work, but I was in creasingly uneasy about how much time had passed without any word from David or Hannah.

I was just about to pick up the phone and try her again when I saw Hannah outside rushing toward my front door. From the expression on her face, I could tell something had gone horribly wrong.

Chapter
6

"I don't know what I'm going to do," my best friend said as she nearly collapsed in my arms. "David never came home last night."

If Hannah had gotten even an hour's worth of sleep the night before, she certainly didn't look it. Normally stylish and sharply dressed, she appeared to have slept in the suit she was wearing; uncharacteristic bags shadowed her eyes. Her hair, usually so well tamed, was frazzled and frayed, no doubt much like the woman's spirit.

"From the way I found my back room this morning, I'm guessing he stayed here," I said as I held her.

She jerked away from me as if I were on fire. "He was here? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried to call you this morning when I got in, but you weren't answering your phone. I left you a message."

"Oh, no," she said as she pulled her cell phone out of her

purse. "I forgot to charge it. The battery's dead. What if David's been trying to reach me?"

"Let me see it." One glance was all it took. "I have the exact same phone you do. Take my battery. I charged it last night."

"That will leave you without a phone, though."

I fumbled with the back of my cell phone, took out the battery, and pushed it at her. "If anybody needs me, they can call me here. Your need is a little more urgent than mine."

We swapped batteries, and I plugged my phone into its charger. I kept one charger at home and another at the shop, since I was always forgetting to plug in my cell phone, or turn it off, for that matter.

She checked her voice-mail messages and had four wait ing, but only one of them mattered to her. It was from David, and after she listened to it once, she handed it to me.

"Mom, I'm okay. I can't come home. I'm in . . . ," and then the message died. What had he been trying to add? Was he in love? In trouble? In England? In jail? The dead tone of his voice didn't betray much additional information.

"What does it mean?" Hannah asked.

"It means he was okay last night, and probably this morning, too. That's got to count for something."

"Carolyn, I need to know."

"I know you do, but there's nothing you can do about it right now, is there? If you can think of anything construc tive to do, I'll help. You know I will."

She frowned at me, then started to cry. As I held my dis traught friend, I tried to imagine how I would feel if one of my sons were in trouble. I didn't have to think about it for very long. Without a doubt, I would be ready to rip the world apart to find him.

"I don't know what to do," she stammered out.

"I know. It's okay, Hannah. He's going to be all right."

She blew her nose into a tissue. "I wish I could be as sure about it as you are."

"It's easier for me," I said as I handed her the whole box. "It's not my son we're talking about."

"He thinks of you as his other mother. You know that, don't you?" She wiped at her tears, but the tissues were no match.

"I love him, too. Listen to me. David is smart, he's re sourceful, and he's got a good head on his shoulders. He's going to be all right."

"Doesn't he know he's just making things worse hiding like this? The sheriff's certain he killed Richard. That's why he keeps hounding me."

I picked up a mug from the sale table that someone had painted, paid for, then abandoned. It was an ugly little thing, but at least it gave me something to do with my hands. "Does the sheriff suspect anyone else?"

"Besides me, you mean?" She rolled her eyes. "He's al ready determined that if David didn't kill his father, I did it myself. I'm not afraid to admit that I had more reason than most to do it, but I didn't, and David didn't, either. He wouldn't. He couldn't. I wouldn't believe it if he himself told me he'd done it."