to the grocery store and the ATM machine. Maybe kitty kibble would make a good snack, after all. In the meantime, she plucked a butterscotch sweet from her pocket, unwrapped it, popped it into her mouth, and crunched it—letting the chunks of sweetness begin to dissolve on her tongue.
Pocketing her keys, she shrugged into her jacket, collected her purse, and headed for the side exit, turning out lights as she went. Finally, only the light from the exit sign over the door to the showroom pierced the gloom. The darkness pressed in around her, sending a shiver of unease down her neck.
Ezra had died only feet from where she now stood. Murdered. Probably by somebody he’d known.
Katie turned her back on the shadows and set the burglar alarm as Vance had taught her to do the night before, and then she locked the door behind her. As she groped her way down the short dark corridor toward the outside door, she pulled her car keys from her pocket and promptly dropped them.
“Swell,” she grated, stooping down to paw the drafty floor.
Had Ezra’s murderer made his—or her—escape down this same corridor? Mary Elliott had found the door open the next morning, assuming Ezra had opened it for the vendors, but it had apparently never been locked the night before.
Snagging her keys, Katie straightened, fumbled for the handle, and turned it, throwing open the door and welcoming the cold evening air as she fled the enclosed space. The door banged shut.
A furtive glance around the near-empty parking lot told Katie several mercury vapor lights had burned out, leaving the sea of asphalt around the building bathed in shadows. Was the Merchants Association responsible for the lot’s upkeep? How were Artisans Alley’s customers going to feel safe when she didn’t?
She turned her back to the Square, glancing at the tall bushes in need of pruning that flanked the doorway. Another job she’d see was done within the week.
Wedging her purse under her arm, Katie inserted the brass key in the lock, turned it, and jumped as something jabbed her in the ribs.
“Stick ’em up!”
Seven
Katie whirled, arms flailing, her heart pounding as she beat at the intruder with her purse.
“Hey, hey!” Andy Rust protested, covering his head, shying back from the blows.
Katie jumped back, crashing into the closed door. “What the heck do you think you’re doing?”
Silhouetted in the dim light, Andy thrust his hands in his pockets, managing to look like a guilty schoolboy. “The lot was nearly empty. I was worried about you closing all alone. It was just a little joke. Sorry if I scared you.”
She hoped the heat of her glare would singe his hair. “Next time, don’t do me any favors.”
“I said I was sorry. Look, come on over to my shop and let me make amends. A nice jolt of cola ought to pick you right up.”
Katie sized him up. He did look contrite. “Include a slice of pizza and you’ve got a deal.”
“How about a nice fresh calzone?”
“I could go for that,” she admitted, grateful her dinner dilemma was now history.
Within minutes Katie had shed her jacket and sat atop a stool inside the pizzeria, sipping a Coke and watching Andy behind the counter, tossing pizza dough into the air with flair. A string of teenaged boys came and went, taking pizzas in padded hot covers out to their cars for delivery. Andy had one assistant assigned to the ovens while he fabricated each of the pizzas. The guys worked like a well-oiled machine, one taking the phone orders when the other was too busy to do so.
“You two move like a choreographed dance,” Katie marveled, nearly burning her mouth on the steaming-hot and tasty cheese-and-pepperoni calzone.
Andy’s smile warmed her. It had been a long time since that had happened. She swallowed back a twinge of guilt, thinking about Chad. She shook the hurt away. “Is it always this busy?”
“Football season’s my most lucrative time of the year, but it’ll slow down after eight. We
Pocketing her keys, she shrugged into her jacket, collected her purse, and headed for the side exit, turning out lights as she went. Finally, only the light from the exit sign over the door to the showroom pierced the gloom. The darkness pressed in around her, sending a shiver of unease down her neck.
Ezra had died only feet from where she now stood. Murdered. Probably by somebody he’d known.
Katie turned her back on the shadows and set the burglar alarm as Vance had taught her to do the night before, and then she locked the door behind her. As she groped her way down the short dark corridor toward the outside door, she pulled her car keys from her pocket and promptly dropped them.
“Swell,” she grated, stooping down to paw the drafty floor.
Had Ezra’s murderer made his—or her—escape down this same corridor? Mary Elliott had found the door open the next morning, assuming Ezra had opened it for the vendors, but it had apparently never been locked the night before.
Snagging her keys, Katie straightened, fumbled for the handle, and turned it, throwing open the door and welcoming the cold evening air as she fled the enclosed space. The door banged shut.
A furtive glance around the near-empty parking lot told Katie several mercury vapor lights had burned out, leaving the sea of asphalt around the building bathed in shadows. Was the Merchants Association responsible for the lot’s upkeep? How were Artisans Alley’s customers going to feel safe when she didn’t?
She turned her back to the Square, glancing at the tall bushes in need of pruning that flanked the doorway. Another job she’d see was done within the week.
Wedging her purse under her arm, Katie inserted the brass key in the lock, turned it, and jumped as something jabbed her in the ribs.
“Stick ’em up!”
Seven
Katie whirled, arms flailing, her heart pounding as she beat at the intruder with her purse.
“Hey, hey!” Andy Rust protested, covering his head, shying back from the blows.
Katie jumped back, crashing into the closed door. “What the heck do you think you’re doing?”
Silhouetted in the dim light, Andy thrust his hands in his pockets, managing to look like a guilty schoolboy. “The lot was nearly empty. I was worried about you closing all alone. It was just a little joke. Sorry if I scared you.”
She hoped the heat of her glare would singe his hair. “Next time, don’t do me any favors.”
“I said I was sorry. Look, come on over to my shop and let me make amends. A nice jolt of cola ought to pick you right up.”
Katie sized him up. He did look contrite. “Include a slice of pizza and you’ve got a deal.”
“How about a nice fresh calzone?”
“I could go for that,” she admitted, grateful her dinner dilemma was now history.
Within minutes Katie had shed her jacket and sat atop a stool inside the pizzeria, sipping a Coke and watching Andy behind the counter, tossing pizza dough into the air with flair. A string of teenaged boys came and went, taking pizzas in padded hot covers out to their cars for delivery. Andy had one assistant assigned to the ovens while he fabricated each of the pizzas. The guys worked like a well-oiled machine, one taking the phone orders when the other was too busy to do so.
“You two move like a choreographed dance,” Katie marveled, nearly burning her mouth on the steaming-hot and tasty cheese-and-pepperoni calzone.
Andy’s smile warmed her. It had been a long time since that had happened. She swallowed back a twinge of guilt, thinking about Chad. She shook the hurt away. “Is it always this busy?”
“Football season’s my most lucrative time of the year, but it’ll slow down after eight. We
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