Paint the Town Dead (18 page)

I entered through the alley door, but didn't see Fred or the fur babies. Maybe he'd taken them for a stroll. If nothing else, he'd walk them to prove he “didn't need no droppin' off.”

Jasmine had come in early to help with Petting Zoo Day, so she'd left at three o'clock. Only a couple of middle-aged women I recognized as Lilyvale residents were in the store, so I didn't bother to keep my voice down. “Aunt Sherry, I want to move your car. Dab's, too. Who has the keys?”

Every last one of my ladies bee-lined to the shelves in back of the counter, every one of them pulled out a purse, and in another twenty seconds, every one of them dangled keys from their fingers.

“Take your pick,” Maise said.

I chuckled and crossed to accept her set. “Thanks. What about Dab's keys?”

“I'll move my own car,” he said as he emerged from the kitchenette. “Thanks for offering, but I have the seat in exactly the right position.”

Dab was tall. I was short. Long legs, short legs. I got it. My taller-than-me roommate used to borrow my car and never got the seat back in position.

“Okay, then. I'll be right back.”

“No, rush, child,” Sherry said. “In fact, you need to go by the bakery. Judy dropped in to see you an hour ago.”

“Will do, but I'll be quick.”

And I was quick because I felt guilty for disappearing earlier with only a wave and a “running an errand” excuse. Sometimes—most of the time—I forgot that the Silver Six weren't used to eight-hour workdays. They had all retired, and though they all volunteered at the technical college and had other activities, they'd had plenty of time to rest and relax.

Okay, so none of them were exactly basking in their retirements. They tended to be busy every waking moment, and that was
before
we'd begun making the emporium a reality. Still, I needed to pull my weight, do the jobs I'd signed on for in this venture. I hoped that, once the grand opening was over and the newness of the emporium wore off, the seniors would take shifts instead of all of them being here every single day. For one thing, they needed to keep producing woven baskets, whittled wooden figures, and herbal potions and lotions or we'd have nothing of theirs to sell. Of course, Fred might be here every workday. He'd moved the vast majority of his tools from the barn and sheds at the farmhouse to his new fix-it space. And if nothing else, I knew the Six planned to continue volunteering at the technical college once the fall semester began. That would cut their emporium hours at least by half. I had no doubt I could
handle the store with Jasmine and additional help only now and then.

Of course, I'd have tons more time if I could steer clear of mysteries.

At Great Buns, Judy wanted to know the latest murder case scoop. She especially wanted to know if Eric had caught the victim's “shifty sister-in-law.” I responded that I didn't think he was exactly ready to drag Margot into the station. My friend would not be happy with me if she learned that I'd met the suspect a block from here, but I'd take my chances that our new friendship would survive. I could always say I'd been sworn to secrecy. He wasn't likely to contradict me because the subject wasn't likely to come up.

*   *   *

The subject
did
arise at the emporium, though. Since the store was customer-free, I was hit with a frontal attack.

“So how is our favorite detective today?” Sherry paused wielding her duster when I walked in the emporium's front door and jammed her free hand on her hip. “Did you two discuss anything new about the case?”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Aster, who stood by her potions and lotions display, shook a finger at me.

“We have eyes everywhere.”

“You should know that by now,” Maise said, chuckling from behind the counter.

Eleanor winked.

I sighed. “I didn't have a chance to tell y'all, but I ran into Kim's ex-sister-in-law out back.”

They exploded in chatter, and Eleanor hollered at Dab and Fred to come out front. In a flash, the Silver Six gathered around the antique checkout counter, one blocking my way to the front door, another barring my way to the back. Oh, and Amber and T.C. joined us because Fred wouldn't hear
of leaving them in the workroom. I fully admit, I ate up their ecstatic, noisy greetings. Amber wagged her entire backside while she danced around my feet, and T.C. shocked me by leaping into my arms. The first time she'd done that, and I felt special. Paying attention to my pets gave me a moment to gather my thoughts.

Of course, they settled down as I related my encounter with Margot. The critters, that is. T.C. slinked out of my arms to lie on the counter. Amber sat at my feet, head cocked. They didn't make a peep, but the Six exclaimed over the story.

“Goodness, child, you never said a word before you took off.”

“I didn't have time, Aunt Sherry. I wanted to talk to Eric before I forgot any details. Which reminds me. Do any of you know about mine cut diamonds? Are they any less shiny than a run-of-the-mill stone?”

“I do believe that might depend on the setting,” Eleanor replied. “The one I inherited isn't large in terms of carats, but it sparkles in the light.”

“I don't think the cut of a diamond is crucial here,” Aster said. “We need to hold a team meeting.”

“We can do it after dinner tonight,” Maise said. “You in?”

“Uh, well, actually,” I stammered, feeling a blush heat my cheeks, “I'm seeing Eric later.”

Maise gave me the stink eye. “Is this a date or are you snooping without us?”

“It must be a date,” Sherry nearly chortled. “Our dear detective doesn't condone any of us snooping.”

“So where is he taking you?” Aster asked.

“We're taking Amber and T.C. to a new dog park.”

Fred snorted. “In my day, a date meant dinner and a movie.”

“Or dinner and dancing,” Dab added.

“Or dinner and miniature golf,” Eleanor said.

“We're going to the Adam Daniel's for dinner afterward,” I said with a grin I didn't bother to contain.

Sherry shook her head, then pushed her bangs out of the way. “You won't be dining there tonight. Not unless they got the roof fixed.”

“That's right,” Maise said. “That storm Sunday was worse north of here. It took off part of the restaurant's roof and soaked the kitchen. Or so I hear.”

“I'm sure Eric would know if the place was closed.”

“Don't know 'bout that,” Fred said, stroking his chin. “Boy's been awful busy with this murder. You may end up at the Dairy Queen.”

I arched a brow at him. “Will that still count as a dinner date?”

“Will if you order somethin' expensive,” Fred advised. “Boy's gotta understand you know your worth.”

I grinned. “I love you, Fred.”

“Bet your nuts and bolts you do. Is that all we're discussin' for now? I got work to finish.”

Fred pushed out of his chair, gripped his walker, and clank-clunked to his workroom.

Aster shook her head at me. “I can't believe you're taking a cat to a dog park. What if the other dogs frighten her?”

“She can hold her own,” Dab declared.

“They're inseparable, Aster, and besides, Fred and Dab taught T.C. to chase a ball. She doesn't like to be left out.”

Sherry rose and patted my arm. “You have a good time tonight, child. You deserve a break.”

What I really wanted was a break in the case. But then, I imagined our dear Detective Shoar wanted the same thing.

*   *   *

Shoppers came in a steady stream in the late afternoon, and a few became buyers, too. Dab retreated to the workroom to make notes on a new herb distilling project.
Aster, Eleanor, and Sherry manned the sales floor while Maise and I retreated to the tiny space in the kitchenette to do paperwork. Although nursing had been her primary career, she had taken accounting classes to help her husband in his insurance business. She lent those skills to the emporium, teaching me bookkeeping, and helping with inventory control. If we needed more merchandise from an artist, I was the one to make the call, but Maise had a knack for knowing what would sell.

We were wrapping up the day when the wind chimes played and Ruth Kreider came in, her cane smartly striking the floor. The elderly woman looked much the way she had when I met her on Tuesday morning. Gray hair styled just so. Heavily powdered face wreathed in a smile. Tailored pale pink pants with tunic-style blouse.

“Nixy, hello, again!” she called gaily.

“Ruth, I didn't expect to see you this soon but welcome. Come meet my aunt and her friends.”

I hurried to shake the papery hand she extended, then I took her elbow to lead her to a chair. After I introduced Ruth to the ladies, I sat beside her.

“Did you have a good time at your reunion? Is your daughter outside?”

“She's gone to get gas, and yes, dear, I did have fun in Little Rock. Thank you for asking. We used to make a few days of it, but we're old enough now that we want our own beds. Or I do. I simply had to stop back by to visit—what did you name the pets?”

“The cat is T.C. and the dog is Amber,” I answered. “And I think they hear your voice, Ruth.”

She cocked her head, listening to the excited yaps and loud meows coming from the workroom. “I think you're right.”

Before I could get them, Fred jerked open the door, and my critters raced to Ruth.

“What in tarnation?” he exclaimed.

“Fred, you and Dab come meet the lady I told y'all about. The one who knew Amber's and T.C.'s last owner.”

Ruth welcomed the critters just as she had the first time. Amber stood with front paws on the chair seat wagging so hard, she kept slipping, knocking herself off the smooth surface. T.C. jumped into Ruth's lap, gently head-butted her chest and
meeped
, with excitement. The Silver Six circled chairs around Ruth and the animals, and I made the introductions.

“I see these little fur babies are faring just fine,” she said. “I hope you don't mind me coming by again.”

I smiled at her, and at the animals. “Absolutely not. I love seeing how crazy they are about you.”

“I can't tell you how much that means to me. I felt better after meeting you, of course, but I'll always regret letting them run off when Doris died. Things do happen for a reason, though, don't they? Rusty seeing these two on the computer, and then telling my grandson so he could tell me. To know these two are safe and happy, it's a weight off my shoulders, I tell you.”

“I hope I can thank Rusty in person someday.”

She blinked. “But you can. He's here in town. I just saw him driving that truck of his.”

The hair on the back of my neck tingled. “Pardon me, but what kind of truck does he drive?”

“I'm not sure of the model, dear, but it's dark blue. Why he put those monstrous tires on it, I'll never know.” She paused and flicked a glance at Fred and Dab. “No offense to you gentlemen, but I never understood why a man's ego was tied up in the size or sportiness of his vehicle, especially trucks. In my day, those were strictly utilitarian.”

Except for the pets, the room had gone quiet. Then Sherry breathed, “Goodness, can it be?”

Ruth flicked her gaze to each of us and frowned. “Be what? Have I misspoken somehow?”

“No, no, not at all,” I said. “It's just that we're interested
in finding Rusty to thank him. And we have been looking for someone who owns a truck like that. What's his last name?”

Ruth fluttered a hand. “My stars, I knew I should have asked Ray again. My memory isn't as sharp for some things as it used to be, and I'm so accustomed to simply calling him Rusty. Let me think.” She paused, then brightened. “The name reminds me of a man's shirt. I'll think of it eventually.”

I patted the hand that rested on Amber's head. “It's okay, Ruth. What does Rusty look like?”

My question must've been too sharp because she shot me a suspicious look. “He's a good boy.”

“Well, of course he is,” Sherry soothed. “But we'd like to be able to recognize him if we see him on the square.”

I nodded. “I wouldn't want to chase after every dark-colored pickup I see in town,” I said. “I'd probably frighten the poor guy off.”

Ruth's expression cleared. “You never want a man to think you're chasing him,” she said on a chuckle.

“Amen,” Eleanor said.

“Well, then, Rusty is about six feet tall, neither fat nor thin. Red hair, but I don't recall the color of his eyes. He's handsome enough in an average way, and he's as nice as can be. He travels some for his job, but he's always willing to lend a hand when he's home.”

Redheaded Rusty. Was Rusty a nickname? Maybe, maybe just a good-ole-boy named by some good-ole-boy parents. Hippies had saddled their children with worse. Plus Ruth struck me as a person to be precise whenever possible. I'd think she'd mention the guy's real name if she knew it. Or remembered it.

I tried a different tack. “Does he live in Minden, too?”

“Not anymore, but he comes to visit Ray, and they both help me around the house.”

“They sound like wonderful young men,” Sherry said. “Now tell us about this reunion.”

And with that, my dear seniors directed the rest of Ruth's
visit, chatting like they'd known each other forever. Fred and Dab even wedged in a few questions about the life Amber and T.C. had lived with Doris. I appreciated their Southern social skills in situations like this because I couldn't hold my end of a light conversation at the moment.

I itched oh-so-desperately to find the extra copies of the surveillance photos from last week and show them to Ruth, but I didn't want to upset her. Even if she recognized our Ball Cap Guy as Rusty, what would that tell us?

That Rusty drove a truck generally like the one I'd seen tearing from the alley on Sunday.