Janice. “Mrs. Ryan, don’t let anything of this nature leave the building without the Sheriff’s Office’s permission.”
Janice’s cheeks flushed. “Well, you might have said so before this, Detective. And I want a receipt for anything you take.”
Good for you,
Katie silently cheered. She glanced at her watch. “Artisans Alley closes in half an hour. We’d better get back, Rose. See you later, Janice.”
Rose glared at the detective and obediently followed.
They were halfway across the lot before Rose spoke. “Bad luck, him showing up like that.”
“Yes. We’ll have to concentrate on the property abstract for now.”
“It’s a gold mine of information, too. One of the former owners was Burt Donahue.”
“Who?”
“Just the biggest auctioneer in the county. I had no idea he’d dabbled in real estate all those years ago.”
“Tell me more,” Katie said as they entered Artisans Alley via the back door into the vendors’ lounge.
Before Rose could utter another word, Polly Bremerton’s shrill voice cut the air. “Katie!”
Katie didn’t even slow down, continuing straight to heroffice. Rose was smart enough to head in the opposite direction. If Polly didn’t rant and rave over some imagined slight or petty infraction of Artisans Alley’s loose set of rules, she’d harp about Edie, and Katie was determined to keep Polly’s gripes behind closed doors and beyond customers’ ears.
But before Polly could corner her, Vance intercepted Katie in the vendors’ lounge. “Gilda Ringwald stopped by while you were out. She left a box on your desk,” he said with disdain.
Katie’s heart sank. No doubt the favors Gilda had mentioned. And what was she supposed to do with them anyway?
Katie approached the cardboard carton as though it were filled with deadly rattlesnakes. She disentangled the interleaved flaps and looked inside. Nestled on top of a big wad of lilac-colored tulle was a roll of ivory satin ribbon and two large bags of deep purple Jordan almonds. Katie frowned. She’d never been fond of the candy-covered nuts—especially after cracking a tooth on one several years before. And purple?
She dug through the box, looking for some kind of list or instructions. Nothing. How many little sachets did Gilda expect her to make? It was then she caught sight of the plastic-enshrouded garment that hung from the pull on the top drawer of her file cabinet.
“Purple?” she cried, horrified. “The dress I’m supposed to wear to this wedding is purple?”
“Oh, yeah,” Vance said, standing in the doorway. “I forgot to mention she dropped off something else, too.”
Katie lifted the dress from the pull and whisked off the plastic to gaze at the monstrosity. First of all, it was sleeveless—and this was April in Western New York. She’d surely freeze to death wearing this. The color—that of a ripe eggplant—was bad enough, but while the front wasscoop-necked, the back of the dress was entirely missing. The skirt seemed to go on and on and on. Had Gilda’s friend with the broken leg been a giantess?
Before Katie could make sense of this new development, Polly stormed into her office and bellowed, “She’s at it again!”
“Please close the door—and lower your voice,” Katie said, then returned the dress to its makeshift hook and opened her desk drawer, pawing through the contents until she found a small bottle of liquid hand sanitizer. She should’ve thought of using the cleaner before she touched the dress—not that any dirt would show on the deep purple color.
The door banged and an impatient Polly stood before Katie, her face twisted in a scowl.
Katie took her time, rubbing the solution into her palms. It was then she noticed the property abstract on the blotter and wished she could examine it instead of listening to Polly vent her paranoia. Taking a Kleenex from her desktop box, she wiped off some of the dirt before tossing the tissue into her wastebasket.
She pulled
Janice’s cheeks flushed. “Well, you might have said so before this, Detective. And I want a receipt for anything you take.”
Good for you,
Katie silently cheered. She glanced at her watch. “Artisans Alley closes in half an hour. We’d better get back, Rose. See you later, Janice.”
Rose glared at the detective and obediently followed.
They were halfway across the lot before Rose spoke. “Bad luck, him showing up like that.”
“Yes. We’ll have to concentrate on the property abstract for now.”
“It’s a gold mine of information, too. One of the former owners was Burt Donahue.”
“Who?”
“Just the biggest auctioneer in the county. I had no idea he’d dabbled in real estate all those years ago.”
“Tell me more,” Katie said as they entered Artisans Alley via the back door into the vendors’ lounge.
Before Rose could utter another word, Polly Bremerton’s shrill voice cut the air. “Katie!”
Katie didn’t even slow down, continuing straight to heroffice. Rose was smart enough to head in the opposite direction. If Polly didn’t rant and rave over some imagined slight or petty infraction of Artisans Alley’s loose set of rules, she’d harp about Edie, and Katie was determined to keep Polly’s gripes behind closed doors and beyond customers’ ears.
But before Polly could corner her, Vance intercepted Katie in the vendors’ lounge. “Gilda Ringwald stopped by while you were out. She left a box on your desk,” he said with disdain.
Katie’s heart sank. No doubt the favors Gilda had mentioned. And what was she supposed to do with them anyway?
Katie approached the cardboard carton as though it were filled with deadly rattlesnakes. She disentangled the interleaved flaps and looked inside. Nestled on top of a big wad of lilac-colored tulle was a roll of ivory satin ribbon and two large bags of deep purple Jordan almonds. Katie frowned. She’d never been fond of the candy-covered nuts—especially after cracking a tooth on one several years before. And purple?
She dug through the box, looking for some kind of list or instructions. Nothing. How many little sachets did Gilda expect her to make? It was then she caught sight of the plastic-enshrouded garment that hung from the pull on the top drawer of her file cabinet.
“Purple?” she cried, horrified. “The dress I’m supposed to wear to this wedding is purple?”
“Oh, yeah,” Vance said, standing in the doorway. “I forgot to mention she dropped off something else, too.”
Katie lifted the dress from the pull and whisked off the plastic to gaze at the monstrosity. First of all, it was sleeveless—and this was April in Western New York. She’d surely freeze to death wearing this. The color—that of a ripe eggplant—was bad enough, but while the front wasscoop-necked, the back of the dress was entirely missing. The skirt seemed to go on and on and on. Had Gilda’s friend with the broken leg been a giantess?
Before Katie could make sense of this new development, Polly stormed into her office and bellowed, “She’s at it again!”
“Please close the door—and lower your voice,” Katie said, then returned the dress to its makeshift hook and opened her desk drawer, pawing through the contents until she found a small bottle of liquid hand sanitizer. She should’ve thought of using the cleaner before she touched the dress—not that any dirt would show on the deep purple color.
The door banged and an impatient Polly stood before Katie, her face twisted in a scowl.
Katie took her time, rubbing the solution into her palms. It was then she noticed the property abstract on the blotter and wished she could examine it instead of listening to Polly vent her paranoia. Taking a Kleenex from her desktop box, she wiped off some of the dirt before tossing the tissue into her wastebasket.
She pulled
Similar Books
