The Cracked Pot (15 page)

I was just falling asleep when something occurred to me. If Richard had been keeping tabs on Maple Ridge from afar, what would have made him come back, thereby blowing his cover identity as Charles Potter? Had he returned to get to know David, as he'd told me before he died, or did he have a more sinister motivation? He'd managed to build a new life for himself, so why risk it all now?

I wasn't sure, but I was only getting more muddled try ing to figure everything out when I was so tired. It was go ing to have to wait until tomorrow.

"You're up early," Bill said as he joined me at the breakfast table the next morning.

"I've got some errands to run before I open the shop," I said.

"Carolyn, you're not going to give up on this, are you? What's it going to take, someone whacking you in the mid dle of the night like they did Richard Atkins?"

"No, but thanks for that thought. What a perfect way to start the day." My husband had a way of pointing out my sometimes foolish behavior in ways that were a little more descriptive than I liked.

"You need to remember what could happen to you," he said. "You're not bulletproof."

"I'm careful, and you know it," I said. "Don't worry so much. I'll see you tonight."

"I surely hope so," he said as I left. What a glum mood my husband was in. I couldn't help but take some of his bleak outlook to heart as I drove to Fire at Will. Was I wast ing my time, trying to investigate a crime the police were al ready looking into? Knowing Sheriff Hodges as I did, I was skeptical about just how hard he would investigate. If he had David and Hannah already pegged as his only two sus pects, it would certainly take more evidence than what I'd uncovered so far to dissuade him of the idea. I needed proof. The only problem was, I wasn't exactly sure how to go about getting any.

Breaking my own rule, I decided to keep the Intrigue close, so I parked on the street four storefronts down from my shop. I wanted to be able to go when I needed to, not slog halfway through town before I could get to my car.

I glanced in the window of Fire at Will, but I kept walk ing. Everything looked normal enough inside, and I had plenty of work to do, but my errand had to take precedence. I knew Kendra was usually at her shop, Hattie's Attic, by seven every morning, doing what, I had no idea. It was nearly eight, but the shop was dark and the sign still said she was closed. Where could she be? Was she sleeping in, or was it something more ominous? Stop it, I chided myself. You've jumped to enough conclusions this week, thank you very much. If Kendra isn't here, she must have a good rea son.

Rose was already at Rose Colored Glasses, though I knew that she never opened before ten.

I tested the door, and sure enough, it was unlocked. As I walked in, Rose said, "Sorry, we're not really open yet."

"It's me," I said.

She looked up, obviously startled by my sudden appear ance. "Carolyn, what are you doing here?"

"I'm fine, Rose. How are you?" She was trying to be rude, in her own way, but I wasn't going to let her get away with it. The sarcasm in my voice had to be evident.

"I didn't mean to snap at you. Sorry," she said again, her face reddened. It was the curse of her complexion. Rose Nygren couldn't hide her discomfort from me, or anyone else.

"I'd like to talk more about Richard Atkins. We didn't get a chance to finish last time we spoke."

"I don't want to discuss him, Carolyn. That's all ancient history. I've moved on."

I looked around the shop. "Have you? Rose, have you even dated anyone since Richard left town?"

"I've had an active enough social life," she said. "Not that it's any of your business." The woman looked ready to bolt from her own store, but I stood my ground.

"When he was murdered in my backyard, it became my business," I said. "I've spoken with my uncle," I added softly.

"How is he?" she asked, all the anger suddenly gone from her voice. "I regret what happened between Don and me more than anything about the whole affair." She paused, then amended, "Okay, that was a bad choice of words. 'In cident' doesn't sound much better. Let's just leave it at that."

"My uncle's as mean as ever. I can't imagine you two were ever friends, let alone anything more." I was baiting her, I couldn't deny it, but I meant what I said. Even though we were blood kin, I could barely stand to be around Don Rutledge. Why should Rose feel any differently?

"He wasn't always like he is now," she said.

"He has been as long as I can remember, and that's at least forty-five years."

Rose blushed again, slightly this time, then said, "I should have said he wasn't like that with me."

"You had a crush on him, didn't you?" The words just popped out of my mouth, but that didn't mean I didn't be lieve them. There was no denying the look in her eyes when she spoke about my uncle.

"We were friends," she repeated.

"But you wanted it to be more, didn't you? You lost something dear to you when Don found out about you and Richard. Where were you the night before last, Rose?"

"Carolyn, are you asking me for an alibi?" She was ready to snap, and for once, I was happy to supply the extra nudge she needed. If I could get her to break down, maybe I could get the truth out of her.

"I'll do one better than that. I'm asking you if you killed Richard Atkins."

I had hoped I'd pushed her enough to get a response, but not the one she gave me. Rose Nygren's eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she fainted dead away.

I grabbed some water from her bathroom and splashed a little on her face. "Rose? Are you all right?" I thought about calling 911, but I wasn't sure if I should. I'd try to wake her on my own, and if that failed, then I'd call for the para medics.

Her eyelids fluttered, and then opened. "Carolyn? What happened?"

"You fainted," I said. "Are you feeling any better?"

The memory of how I'd accused her must have swept across her because she said quickly, "You need to leave."

"I'm not going to go and leave you lying on the floor," I protested.

She struggled to stand, then leaned against a shelf and pulled herself up. "I'm fine. Now go."

"You should see somebody, a doctor," I said.

"I skipped breakfast, so I was a little light-headed. I mean it. You aren't welcome here."

"Fine, but I'm going to check in on you later." She couldn't keep me from doing that, could she?

"If you do, I'm calling Sheriff Hodges and telling him that you've been harassing me. That's what you're doing, you know."

"I'm just trying to find out what happened to Richard Atkins," I said.

"Leave me alone." Her voice was shrill, and I didn't want her to faint again, so I did as she asked and left. How curious her behavior had been. I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. I didn't have much time to dally, though. If I was going to speak with Harvey Jenkins before it was time to open my shop, I'd have to hurry. I rushed back to the Intrigue and headed for his car lot.

Harvey was out front, changing the cardboard sign he had in the window of a Subaru. That wasn't his only manu facturer; since Maple Ridge was a small town, Harvey car ried a variety of new vehicles.

"Have you finally come in to trade that Intrigue?" he asked the second he saw me. "I can make you a sweet deal on a new Subaru. We've got a new shipment of Honda CRVs, too."

"Thanks, but I'm just here to talk to you."

"Unless it's about a new car, I don't have the time. This is a busy season for me."

I looked around the deserted parking lot. "I can see you're just swamped with customers."

"You never know, a crowd could be five minutes away."

From the intent jut of his jaw, I realized he was serious. "Fine. I'll test drive that one."

"Sounds good. Let me get a plate and we'll be off."

I looked at the red vehicle, and found that I liked its sporty style. My Intrigue was great, and I loved it, but that didn't mean it was the last car I ever wanted to own. Be sides, if we were riding together Harvey would be a captive audience.

Harvey attached the plate and handed me the keys. "You're going to love this. It's really got some pep."

I took the keys, got in, and started it up. We were twenty feet out of the parking lot when Harvey started to press. "Now let's talk about this ride. It's got four-wheel indepen dent suspension, a 173-horsepower engine, and sixteeninch alloy wheels."

"Stop," I said. "The more you talk, the less I like it."

He shut up as if I'd thrown a switch. We drove a few miles—and I had to admit, I liked the way it handled—then I decided to get to why I was really there.

"I'm sorry about your loss," I said.

"What are you talking about?" Harvey answered.

"Your partner died a few nights ago. That's got to be tough on you."

"I don't have a partner," he said.

"You might be able to fool the rest of the world, but I know Richard Atkins owned a percentage of your business through ClayDate."

I'd expected a denial, not the laughter I got instead. "That's a blast from the past. That particular business has been dead twenty years. You should do your homework, Carolyn. It's old news."

Could Sandy, in her haste, have found dated informa tion? I had to press it, regardless. Now that Harvey knew what I was up to, I'd given away the advantage of surprise. "Are you trying to tell me you didn't lose a fortune when Richard skipped out of town?"

"I'd hardly call what I lost a fortune. I'd honestly forgot ten all about the man until this week. I've had my share of good partners and bad ones, but I don't hold grudges, and I don't look back. Now, what do you think?"

"About what?"

"The car. She's a real beauty, isn't she?"

I'd honestly forgotten the ruse. "It's a machine, not a fe male. Why must men do that?"

"Not all men, not all the time," he said. "You've got to admit, this car handles better than yours."

"I don't have to admit anything," I said. "I love my In trigue."

He grinned. "What happened to vehicles just being ma chines?"

"Are you trying to lose a sale?" I said. I turned the car around and headed back to his lot.

"Hey, I was just kidding."

"Sorry, I've changed my mind." I didn't want a new vehi cle, couldn't afford the payments if I did, and wouldn't buy it from Harvey Jenkins even if the first two points didn't matter.

Back at the dealership, I pulled to a stop, turned off the engine, but kept the keys in my hand.

He reached for them, but I held back. "There's one more thing I want to ask you."

"Go ahead," he said warily.

"Where were you two nights ago?"

Harvey shook his head. "That's none of your business."

"What happened to treating the customer right?"

"You don't have any intention of buying a new car," he said. "Now give me the keys."

I thought about holding on to them, but changed my mind and dropped them in his extended palm. As I got out, I said, "Thanks for the test drive."

"Sure thing," he said, barely managing to suppress a snarl. It was gone as quickly as it had come, and as he turned to greet a new customer, I could see his usual smarmy smile plastered to his face. "Hi there, I see you're admiring the new model. She's a beauty, isn't she?"

I got back into the Intrigue and headed to Fire at Will. I wasn't sure I'd accomplished anything that morning other than alienating more people, but I couldn't worry about that. I had a murder to solve and a business to run, in that or der.

Someone was waiting for me to open, and for a second, I didn't recognize him. As I neared the shop, though, I saw that it was my cottage-making customer. That was stretch ing things, as I'd done all the work, but it was nice to see someone interested in my shop, for whatever the reason.

"I know it's early," he said the second I pulled out my key. "I just couldn't wait."

"Impatient to see how it turned out?" I asked as I un locked the door.

"No, that's not it, though I am rather curious. It's for my mother, and I'm afraid she won't make it until noon."

It stunned me the man's mother could even still be alive, given the years he must have logged himself. "I'm so sorry," I said as I led him in. I didn't care that I wasn't set to open for another ten minutes. He might not have that long.

"Don't be," he said. "She's had a good life, made a great many friends, and helped scores of people over the years. Her last wish was to see her cottage in Haymore one last time, and since the sweet old thing would never last the trip, I commissioned you to make one for me. All the old pho tographs were lost in a fire, and I'm hoping my memory is strong enough to match Mother's."

It was the sweetest thing I'd ever heard. "It should be ready. Let's go check."

I opened the kiln, holding my breath as I peered inside. We lose things sometimes when we fire them. It's the nature of the business, and not a pleasant part of it, at that. I just hoped and prayed that the cottage we'd created made it.

I reached in and pulled it out. The glazes and paints had turned out beautifully, and I could see why my costumer's mother would long for it in her last days. I wouldn't mind living there myself.

I handed it to him, which he took reverently. "It's per fect," he said, his voice muted.

"It did turn out rather well." I retrieved my effort, and was pleased with it, too.

"That's very nice, too," he said. "Pardon me for asking, but is it for sale?"

I smiled at him. "If it's not bolted down, it's for sale. And don't worry about offending me. I'd be delighted to sell it to you."

He nodded his approval. "Wrap them both then, would you, please?"

"I'll take care of it." We hadn't yet discussed a price, and honestly, what he'd paid to have the firings expedited would cover the bill for both of them. I wasn't sure he'd stand for that though; I decided I'd give him a great price on the pair of cottages.

I came back up front and handed him the two cottages, each wrapped carefully and boxed. "Here you go."

He took them from me and handed me an envelope. "And here you are."

"Thanks. But we didn't discuss a price."