Finding Sarah Read Free Page A

deep breath. “Please. This can’t have anything to do with
the little old witch who robbed me.”
    “I’m sorry, but we have to
consider everything.” Three more clicks of his pen. “Do you know what kind of
gun Gertie used? Revolver? Automatic?”
    Sarah shuddered. “I don’t know
anything about guns. It looked … big.”
    “If you saw a picture, would you
recognize it?”
    “Maybe. I usually notice things,
but—”
    “Don’t worry about it. It’s not
unusual when you’re frightened. Let’s move on. Who else has been in the store
today? It’ll help Connor eliminate more prints.”
    Sarah relaxed a little at the
shift in the conversation. “Nobody was in the shop before Gertie, except me … and—”
    “And who?”
    Sarah paused a moment. “A friend.
Chris. Christopher Westmoreland. He was there before Gertie came in. But there’s
no way he could be involved.”
    “You know him well?”
    “Yes, as a matter of fact I do. I
can’t see him rubbing elbows with a thief. He’s a bigwig at Consolidated
Enterprises.”
    Randy made his notes. “Thank you.
I’ll talk to him. Next question. How much did Gertie take?”
    “Two expensive silver pieces and
a handful of small carved animals. And about two hundred in cash.” She managed
a wry grin. “She left me twenty dollars.”
    “Do you have any recollection of
her being in the shop before today?”
    “I don’t think so. It’s been
quiet, unless she came in during the Christmas season. We were busier then.”
    “You have any other employees?
Someone else who might remember her?”
    “No. Only me.” She tried not to
think of working side-by-side with David, but her voice quavered.
    As if he sensed he’d taken her to
the edge of her emotional limits, Randy stood up. “Let’s go.”
    Back in her shop, Sarah flinched
when she saw the remnants of the black fingerprint powder smudging the counter
and Anjolie’s silver. The bags of Gertie’s belongings were gone, presumably
taken by Connor. She dashed into the back room and returned with a spray bottle
of cleanser and a roll of paper towels, wishing she could clean away the events
of the previous hour by rubbing hard enough. She showed Randy an inventory
photo of Anjolie’s vase and samples of the animal carvings, and she answered
the rest of his questions.
    She gave the counter one more
swipe. “Look, it’s almost twelve. I should reopen if you’re done. Is there
anything more you need?”
    “I don’t think so. If she was
wearing gloves and a wig, it’s doubtful we’ll get much, but sometimes the lab
folks can pull rabbits out of very tiny hats. I’ll do some door-to-door and see
if anyone else noticed Gertie. If I need anything else, I’ll call.”
    “Thanks.” She walked over and
held the door for him. When he left, she reached for the “Open” sign, but
couldn’t face customers yet. She turned and leaned against the closed door,
contemplating the shop. Their life. Hers and David’s.
    Sarah meandered through the
space, seeking comfort from the merchandise. She remembered working with David—refinishing
the old shelves and tables they used instead of conventional store fixtures,
the arguments about whether to carry high-priced oil paintings, the joy when
they discovered a new artisan at a craft show. As she had so many times, she
pushed the memories away, but now they refused to relinquish their hold.
    She had no idea how long she’d
been daydreaming when the back doorbell summoned. She peered through the small
glass window. Anjolie. What was she doing here? Sarah opened the door.
    Anjolie pushed past Sarah, her
waist-length raven hair swaying as she marched to the table where her silver
sat on display. She set a large cardboard box down on the floor and began
loading it with her picture frames. “Someone from Pandora’s called and said I
would do better over there.”
    Sarah’s heart sank. “Wait. Can’t
we talk about it?”
    “There’s not much to talk about.”
She fisted