A Murderous Glaze Read Free Page B

another expensive repair bill.”
    “Maybe it’s just a fluke,” David said.
    “Maybe,” I agreed. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was 10 A.M ., time to open for the day. Taking a deep breath, I asked David, “Are you ready?”
    “We might as well open up. I just hope we don’t get mobbed with customers looking for information about the murder.”
    I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but as I unlocked the door and opened it, we were greeted by nothing but a chilly breeze. I poked my head out and saw people milling up and down the walkway, though none were heading in our direction.
    “It looks like it’s going to be a quiet day,” I said as I came back in. “They might not think we’re open for business today because of what happened.” I couldn’t bring myself to say “murder.” “Let’s drag the sale table out front and see if it helps.” We had a table of discounted pottery items that had flaws of one sort or another, or had been abandoned by their owners. Usually it was a sure way to get browsers to stop by, but after two hours without a single visitor, I was beginning to wonder if I should have bothered opening up after all.
    I looked over and saw David smiling ruefully at me. Without waiting for him to speak, I said, “No. I’m not going to do it.”
    “What? I didn’t say a word.”
    “But I know what you’re thinking.”
    His grin didn’t waver. “Then maybe you should open up a psychic’s shop instead. Do you mind if I go ahead and take my lunch break?”
    “I think I can handle the rush on my own,” I said.
    Ten minutes after David was gone, Herman Meadows, my landlord, poked his head in the shop. “I got here as fast as I could. What happened last night, Carolyn?” Herman was in his midfifties, a bantam of a man barely managing five and a half feet tall. I wasn’t that fond of his choices of cologne, but he was a decent sort, at least to me. He apparently thought of himself as some sort of ladies man, but he’d never made a pass at me. I didn’t know whether to feel virtuous about it or be offended by his lack of attention.
    “Betty Wickline was murdered,” I said.
    “I heard that much,” he said dismissively. “Did you do it?”
    “You’re so smooth, Herman. You should be on the police force. Of course I didn’t.”
    He raised one eyebrow. “But if you did, you wouldn’t exactly confess it to me, would you?” I didn’t like the way he was grilling me, but at least he had the decency to express his doubts about my innocence to my face. That was more than I could say for some of my fellow townsfolk.
    “You’ve got a point. What else would you like to know?”
    “I’m wondering what she was doing here in the first place after hours. You didn’t let her in, did you?”
    “Don’t be foolish. I’m not sure how she got into the shop. The sheriff asked me to make a list of everyone who has keys to the place.”
    He scowled. “Did you tell him that you probably left the door unlocked yourself? It’s happened before, Carolyn. No matter how many times I’ve told you to be careful about locking up whenever you leave, sometimes you forget. I’ve jiggled your front doorknob more than once when I’m on my rounds inspecting my properties, and it’s opened to my touch without a key more times than I can count.”
    That was all the lecturing I was going to take from him. “It happened twice in the last six months. Sometimes I slip. But it was locked last night when I left. I’m certain of it.”
    “How can you be so positive? For that matter, you could have used your key this morning to unlock a door that was already open.”
    “That’s impossible.”
    “I don’t know why.”
    I smiled at him, then said, “Because I didn’t unlock the door this morning at all. David was already here.”
    He shook his head in obvious disgust. “You should tell the sheriff about leaving the place unlocked before, Carolyn. He needs to know.”
    “I will if he asks,”