trembling, teeth chattering now that the immediate crisis was over. "I suppose this is a case of all's well that ends well. We'll have to keep a closer eye on our customers." She exhaled, trying to calm herself. "Who was that guy?"
Not a customer, obviously. He'd deliberately hidden in her workroom and waited until everyone had left in order to interrogate her about Sarah Linwood.
Why?
Otto seemed to have forgotten him altogether. He pushed his head into the trash can to get at the remains of her and Zoe's wild blueberry scones.
Annie scowled at him. "Otto, get out of there."
He looked up at her, drool dripping off his massive chin.
She sighed. "You don't know what's wrong with me, do you, buddy? So what do I do now? Call the police? The guy didn't steal anything. He didn't even break in. If I call the cops, they're going to want to know if I have been in touch with Sarah, and things could get messy real quick."
Talking to herself. Not a good sign.
What she would do, she decided, was tell Sarah Linwood about the gray-haired man and see what she had to say.
"A pity there's no scone left for me, huh, Otto? I could use a bite to eat. Come on," she said, encouraging him to abandon the trash can, "we might as well finish closing up shop."
The afternoon sun had given way to a light, steady rain as Garvin made his way down the narrow brick walkway off Union Street, emerging into the small courtyard where Annie's Gallery was located. He noticed the simple sign, the half-opened door, a few pots of pansies out front. This was not one of Union Street's distinguished, expensive galleries. He pushed the door open and peeked inside, even a quick glance confirming his impression of eclecticism and unpretentiousness. More pots of flowers, he noted, were on the floor just inside the door. He must be catching Annie Payne closing up shop. But as he stepped inside, he saw no sign of her.
A dog growled, and the big rottweiler of yesterday padded out of a back room. Garvin took an involuntary, automatic step back. "Whoa, boy. It's Otto, right? Yeah. Nice dog."
He plopped down onto Garvin's feet, drool dripping from his massive jaw.
"Otto, it's okay," came his owner's voice. "You remember Garvin MacCrae from yesterday, right?"
Garvin glanced up from the dog, and immediately went still, his eyes narrowed on Annie Payne. She was pale and obviously shaken, not just surprised to see him but unnerved. He'd come straight from the marina he'd bought a couple of years after Haley's death. He hadn't bothered changing from his sweater and torn, stained jeans. He knew he looked very different from yesterday at the auction, but that didn't explain her reaction.
"Oh," she said, clearing her throat, "hello."
She was visibly trembling, with none of yesterday's easy manner and cheerfulness. He supposed she'd learned about Haley. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine." She gave him a quick, phony smile. "It's been a busy day."
"Because of that stupid piece in the paper this morning?"
"It did bring out the browsers. I—one of them—he just—" She inhaled, breaking off. "It's just been a weird day."
"Ms. Payne?"
Her slate eyes fastened on him abruptly, and she seemed steadier. "It's Annie. And I'm okay. I just had an unsettling experience with a man who hid in my workroom. He's gone now. He slipped out through the back—"
Garvin didn't wait for her to finish. With Otto on his heels, he ducked into the workroom. It was small and tidy, used for storage and a modest framing operation. He checked the back alley but saw no one. On his way back into the gallery, he noticed the print of Spiderman. It wasn't the sort of thing he'd have found at any of the galleries Haley had dragged him to during their brief time together.
Some color had returned to Annie's cheeks, but she was still clearly shaken. "Did this guy threaten you?" Garvin asked.
She shook her head. "Not really."
"What do you mean, not really'? What exactly did he say?"
She shut her eyes
Not a customer, obviously. He'd deliberately hidden in her workroom and waited until everyone had left in order to interrogate her about Sarah Linwood.
Why?
Otto seemed to have forgotten him altogether. He pushed his head into the trash can to get at the remains of her and Zoe's wild blueberry scones.
Annie scowled at him. "Otto, get out of there."
He looked up at her, drool dripping off his massive chin.
She sighed. "You don't know what's wrong with me, do you, buddy? So what do I do now? Call the police? The guy didn't steal anything. He didn't even break in. If I call the cops, they're going to want to know if I have been in touch with Sarah, and things could get messy real quick."
Talking to herself. Not a good sign.
What she would do, she decided, was tell Sarah Linwood about the gray-haired man and see what she had to say.
"A pity there's no scone left for me, huh, Otto? I could use a bite to eat. Come on," she said, encouraging him to abandon the trash can, "we might as well finish closing up shop."
The afternoon sun had given way to a light, steady rain as Garvin made his way down the narrow brick walkway off Union Street, emerging into the small courtyard where Annie's Gallery was located. He noticed the simple sign, the half-opened door, a few pots of pansies out front. This was not one of Union Street's distinguished, expensive galleries. He pushed the door open and peeked inside, even a quick glance confirming his impression of eclecticism and unpretentiousness. More pots of flowers, he noted, were on the floor just inside the door. He must be catching Annie Payne closing up shop. But as he stepped inside, he saw no sign of her.
A dog growled, and the big rottweiler of yesterday padded out of a back room. Garvin took an involuntary, automatic step back. "Whoa, boy. It's Otto, right? Yeah. Nice dog."
He plopped down onto Garvin's feet, drool dripping from his massive jaw.
"Otto, it's okay," came his owner's voice. "You remember Garvin MacCrae from yesterday, right?"
Garvin glanced up from the dog, and immediately went still, his eyes narrowed on Annie Payne. She was pale and obviously shaken, not just surprised to see him but unnerved. He'd come straight from the marina he'd bought a couple of years after Haley's death. He hadn't bothered changing from his sweater and torn, stained jeans. He knew he looked very different from yesterday at the auction, but that didn't explain her reaction.
"Oh," she said, clearing her throat, "hello."
She was visibly trembling, with none of yesterday's easy manner and cheerfulness. He supposed she'd learned about Haley. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine." She gave him a quick, phony smile. "It's been a busy day."
"Because of that stupid piece in the paper this morning?"
"It did bring out the browsers. I—one of them—he just—" She inhaled, breaking off. "It's just been a weird day."
"Ms. Payne?"
Her slate eyes fastened on him abruptly, and she seemed steadier. "It's Annie. And I'm okay. I just had an unsettling experience with a man who hid in my workroom. He's gone now. He slipped out through the back—"
Garvin didn't wait for her to finish. With Otto on his heels, he ducked into the workroom. It was small and tidy, used for storage and a modest framing operation. He checked the back alley but saw no one. On his way back into the gallery, he noticed the print of Spiderman. It wasn't the sort of thing he'd have found at any of the galleries Haley had dragged him to during their brief time together.
Some color had returned to Annie's cheeks, but she was still clearly shaken. "Did this guy threaten you?" Garvin asked.
She shook her head. "Not really."
"What do you mean, not really'? What exactly did he say?"
She shut her eyes
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