The Walleld Flower (23 page)

Andy’s warm hand settled on her shoulder. “Life handed you a pile a crap in this place, but look what you’ve done in only six months. It’s a going concern again. You’ve got happy vendors… well, most of them. No creditors are breathing down your neck, and you’ve got the world’s best neighbor in Angelo’s Pizzeria.”

Katie uncovered her eyes, turning her head to look at him. Andy’s eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep. His
jaw bristled with unshaved whiskers. How long had it taken him to make three batches of cinnamon rolls?

“My ad for the assistant manager’s job will be in tomorrow’s paper,” he said in what sounded like a peace offering.

Katie had to clear her throat before she could speak. “That’s great, Andy. And it looks like you’ll get to fulfill your dream of Cinnamon Bun King.”

“And if you’re
real
lucky, you can be my queen.”

Katie eyed him speculatively. “The job better come with one hell of a tiara.”

Andy bowed, took her hand, and gently kissed her knuckles, just like Mark Bastian had done the night before. Katie didn’t feel up to telling him about that right now. “What are you doing for lunch today?” she asked.

Andy released her hand and straightened. “I’ve got a vendor coming in to give me a dog and pony show. I might need some different equipment if I’m going ahead with a new product.”

Katie sighed. “Tomorrow, then?”

“I’ll pencil you in my Day-Timer.” His goofy smile made Katie laugh. “By the way, which of your old lady friends does the crafts? Rose or Edie? I can never keep ’em straight.”

“Edie, why?”

He shrugged. “Just curious. Maybe she can tell me who could make me some fake cinnamon rolls to put in my front window. For marketing purposes,” he clarified.

“Oh, right.”

Andy nodded at the roll growing cool on her desk. “Eat up. They’re at their peak right now, not unlike their creator.”

Katie shook her head. “Oh, the power of the inflated male ego.”

Andy pulled her from her seat, folding his arms around her. “Let’s go out on a real date sometime next week. A movie, dinner, anything you want.”

Katie pulled back, their gazes locking. “It’s a deal, but with one proviso.”

“What’s that?”

“We eat anything but pizza.”

“Debbie’s gone,” said a cheerful voice in a singsong cadence.

Katie looked up from her computer screen to find Edie Silver standing in the doorway of her office looking flushed. “So soon?”

“Today was the only day her daughter had free to help her move out. Is it okay if I start taking my stuff to her booth?”

Katie glanced at the wall clock. Artisans Alley had opened its doors half an hour before. “I’d rather you didn’t. It doesn’t look good if customers see us restocking during business hours.”

Edie’s mouth drooped, making her look like a sad, tired bulldog. “I know, but I
really
want to get away from Polly as soon as I can.”

Katie stared into Edie’s gray eyes, her willpower draining away. She was a sucker when it came to old people—especially Rose and Edie. She saved her document and stood. “Okay. I don’t have a lot of time this morning, but I could give you a few minutes to help pack.”

“I’ve already started. I was here when Vance opened this morning. I stacked all my merchandise in shopping hand baskets and have been bringing them down two at a time.”

“What about your display pieces?”

“Vance and Billy are going to move those. We should be done before lunch.”

Katie waved a hand in submission. “Okay, finish up. I’ll be up to help in a few minutes. I need to make a few calls first.”

Edie beamed. “Thanks, Katie.”

Katie searched her desk for the list of prospective vendors. Several calls later, she had set up appointments with two crafters and a sculptor to inspect Edie’s old booth. With luck, she’d rent the space within a day.

By the time Katie made it upstairs, Edie had placed the last of her crafts into a basket. All that remained were five or six display pieces, including a long table covered with a cloth of cheerful Easter bunnies rolling eggs across a pale green background.

“What do you want me to do?” Katie asked.

“If you could fold the cloth and knock down the table, I’ll tell Vance we’re ready to move these display pieces.”

“Will do,” Katie said as Edie picked up the last plastic shopping basket and headed for the stairs.

Katie grabbed the cloth, which was actually two pieces of carefully matched fabric with a seam down the middle. Edie had hemmed the edges, adding a pretty white ruffle. Katie folded it neatly and bent down to look at the table’s legs. Underneath were a scattering of boxes that Edie had obviously forgotten she’d stashed. Katie nested the smaller boxes into the larger ones. Most were empty, but one was nearly stuffed with handcrafted doll accessories—clothes, shoes, wigs—a darning egg, and a couple of bisque doll arms and legs: most of the missing items from Polly Bremerton’s booth. She dug deeper into the box and found other bits and pieces, most from booth eighty-seven, which was kitty-corner to Polly’s booth. Katie sat back on her heels, the cinnamon bun turning to lead in her stomach.

Okay, there were two possibilities to consider. Either Polly herself had taken the items, planting them in Edie’s booth to incriminate her or—and this was something Katie did not want to believe—Edie
had
been stealing.

Then again, someone else might have done it just to see sparks fly from afar. She gazed at the other booths nearby. This back section of Artisans Alley wasn’t exactly Siberia,
but it wasn’t as well traveled as other sections of the upper floor. Was one of the newer vendors vying for a better location, hoping to incite insurrection as a diabolical plot to move up Artisans Alley’s pecking order by eliminating the competition?

Nah, very few vendors with upstairs booths made much more than their rent on a weekly basis. It wasn’t money but the love of what they were doing that kept them here week after week.

Katie folded in the carton’s flaps and took the box back to her office. Next she pulled out her list of vendors and traced down to number eighty-seven. This vendor made primitive-looking animal sculptures out of clay. She punched the phone number onto the phone’s keypad.

“Hi, Joan. It’s Katie Bonner from Artisans Alley. Have you noticed any missing items from your booth?”

“Off and on. Mostly little things.”

Katie picked up a horse decked out in a saddle and reins, rocking it back and forth until it appeared to be walking across her desk. “How come you haven’t reported it?”

“I figured shoplifting was just a consequence of being in business.”

“Well, I’m happy to tell you that I may have found a bunch of them. I’ll keep them in my office until you can get in to pick them up.”

“Oh, don’t bother. Just put them in the basket for reshelves.” She laughed. “Who knows, the quicker they’re back in my booth, the quicker they might sell.”

“Will do,” Katie said.

“I’ll see you on Monday. Bye.”

Katie replaced the receiver. Could Polly have put some of Joan’s items into the box so it wouldn’t look so terribly suspicious? Maybe. But then Katie remembered something Rose had said days before. Edie had been confused some months before when her medication had been changed.
Could kleptomania be another symptom of a prescription drug interaction, or was Katie just looking for excuses to explain away the truth?

She replaced the items in the box and put it under her desk and out of sight.

Talk about an act of denial.

“Miz Bonner?”

Vance Junior stood poised to knock on the doorjamb. Dressed in dark baggy pants and shirt, with a pink do-rag tied around his cropped fair hair, the boy looked like every other McKinlay Mill High School slouch. Only his keen blue eyes betrayed the intelligence he tried to hide. “My dad says you want that old VCR fixed.”

“Yes, thank you, Vance Junior.”

The boy cringed. “Aw, please don’t call me that. It makes me feel like some dorky old country singer. I like VJ better.”

“Thanks, VJ,” she amended. She grabbed her mug and followed him back into the vendors’ lounge.

Within a minute, she’d poured herself yet another cup of coffee as VJ stuffed a cinnamon roll into his mouth with one hand and inspected the VCR’s innards with the other.

“Oh, there you are, Katie,” Edie said upon entering the vendors’ lounge. “Can you give me a hand putting my stuff out? Hi, Vance Junior.”

VJ winced again and swallowed. “Hi.”

“Edie there’s something we need to talk ab—”

“I can see your problem,” VJ said, interrupting her as he bent over the VCR. “The motor’s seized up. You also need some new drive belts—these are shot. Might cost five or six bucks. Is that okay?” He looked up at her.

“Hurry up, will you, Katie? The customers can’t buy my merchandise if it’s sitting in baskets,” Edie said tartly, and marched off again.

Katie stared after her, startled by Edie’s sudden brusque demeanor—or rather the return of her usual demeanor. She
turned back to the boy who was still awaiting an answer. “Do whatever you need to do.”

“Uh, my dad said something about pizza later,” VJ hinted.

“Whatever you want. Do you need the money now?”

“Nope. You can pay me later.”

Katie nodded. “I better go help Edie.”

VJ settled into a chair and started tinkering with the motor.

Katie started for Edie’s new booth. On second thought, she changed direction. Before she confronted Edie, she needed more information. She’d talk to Rose first. Either way, she was going to have to deal with what she’d found up in Edie’s old booth.

Swell. Just swell.

Artisans Alley had been open for almost an hour when Katie sidled up to cash desk one. A few customers ambled among the aisles, but it looked to be a slow sales day. Rose had her nose buried in a romance novel, its cover showing two scantily clad figures clinging to one another.

Katie leaned against the counter. “Have you noticed anything different about Edie lately?”

Rose looked up from her book. “Different?”

“When Edie first came to Artisans Alley she was…” Katie faltered. She had to get this right. “A very dynamic individual. Yet lately she’s been…” Her voice trailed off.

“Kind of frail?” Rose offered.

“Yes.” Katie waited, but Rose made no other comment. “She seems to have—” Had Edie been a man, Katie might’ve said that she’d grown some balls. Vulgar—but an accurate assessment. “Overcome that in the past half hour,” Katie finished tactfully.

“What are you saying?” Rose asked.

Katie thought about it. How had she felt just minutes
ago? Like a fool? Like she’d been taken in? Manipulated? Or had she just imagined Edie’s sudden transformation back to her old forceful self?

“Nothing.” As Rose and Edie were friends, she decided it would be better not to discuss the situation with Rose. “I’m going back to my office to make some calls. Holler if it gets busy and you need help.”

“Sure thing,” Rose said, her gaze dipping back to her book.

VJ had disappeared from the vendors’ lounge, probably off to buy the parts the old VCR needed, Katie thought as she cut through to get to her office. She sank into her chair and eyed the phone book. She didn’t want to call every apartment complex within a ten- or twenty-mile radius of Artisans Alley. She was tired of living in one of those boring, cookie-cutter rabbit warrens. That’s why she’d targeted her home search at finding a duplex.

No, if she was really honest with herself, she wanted to live in the old Webster mansion, and that was never going to happen.

The box of wedding favors still sat on her desk. It was time to declutter—which would also delay her phone book search. Getting up from her chair, she grabbed the box and headed for the cash desk again. “Rose, I’m going to drop these off to Gilda and take a walk around the Square. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Rose waved a hand in acknowledgment, not shifting her gaze away from her book.

Katie left the building and started across the parking lot, navigating past parked cars lined up in front of the Square’s shops. The cool gray morning hinted at rain showers to come—always good for perking up afternoon sales.