Snuffed Out - Tim Myers [72]
From her expression, it was pretty obvious that Eve was wavering, so I decided to end our discussion. “Then it’s settled. You keep At Wick’s End open for our regular customers during the fair, and I’ll see what I can do about getting some new ones.”
Before Eve could protest any more, the bell over the front door jingled and Pearly Gray, retired psychologist and current handyman to all of River’s Edge, said, “Harrison, I need a moment of your time if you can spare it.”
A smooth escape was exactly what I needed. As I walked over to him, I asked, “What can I do for you, Pearly?”
He frowned, then said, “I hate to do this to you right now, but I need a break from my duties.”
Pearly hadn’t taken a day off since I’d inherited the River’s Edge complex, and I had no idea what arrangements for vacation he’d made with Belle. “How much time do you need? We could probably spare you for a week or two if we had to.”
He looked startled by the offer. “Goodness no, it’s nothing like that. I just need tomorrow off. I have to help a friend.” He said the last with his gaze downcast, and I wondered what kind of help he’d be supplying, but it was none of my business.
“That would be fine,” I said.
“Thank you, Harrison.” Pearly grabbed my hand in both of his and shook it vigorously. After he was gone, I realized that he was much more enthusiastic with his thanks than he’d needed to be. What was Pearly up to?
No matter. I really didn’t have time to delve into my handyman’s private life. I had a table display to prepare for the event, just one more task I’d never attempted before in my life. There was one thing I could say about running At Wick’s End: just when I thought I had a handle on things, something new popped up to show me just how wrong I was.
I’d finally gotten Eve to accept the idea of the Founder’s Day table by asking her opinions on my display plans, and I thought I had her won over when a frown shadowed her face.
“What is it now?” I asked. “Have you thought of another objection to the idea?”
“It’s not that. Look who’s coming in.”
I turned to see Becka Lane, my onetime girlfriend, rush inside At Wick’s End. Her lustrous blonde hair—usually perfect in appearance—was tousled, and one edge of her blouse was coming out of her short skirt’s waistband. My sarcastic comment died in my throat when I saw her face, though. There was a look of pure, raw fear in her eyes that startled me with its intensity.
“Becka, what is it? What’s wrong?”
She rushed toward me, then glanced back at the door. “That man...he’s back. He’s after me. Harrison, you’ll protect me, won’t you?”
“Protect you from what?” I looked out the bay window in front of the shop, but I couldn’t see anyone nearby. “Becka, there’s nobody out there. What are you talking about?”
She nearly screamed. “Go look for yourself. I’m telling you, he’s out there.”
I picked up a large wrought-iron candle stand by the door and walked out of the shop, scanning the parking lot and walkway in front of the complex. Aside from an elderly couple looking in the windows of the new antique shop and a group of young women going into The Pot Shot pottery, there was no one around.
At I came back inside, Becka grabbed my shoulder. “Did you see him? Did you?”
“Nobody’s out there,” I said.
“Harrison, he must have ducked into one of the shops. I’ve never seen his face; he always hides in the shadows. I’m telling you, he was there a minute ago.”
I led her to the office in back, offered her my chair, then took Eve’s regular seat. “You need to take a deep breath and tell me what’s been happening.” Becka wasn’t my favorite ex-girlfriend, not after I’d learned about her argument with my late Great-Aunt Belle just before she’d died, but we’d meant something to each other once, and I couldn’t turn my back on that. It would have probably been easier to help a stranger, someone I had no history with, but regardless of what had gone on before between us, I couldn’t abandon her now.
“It started last week,” she said softly. “At first I thought it was just my imagination, but I kept getting