Part 7 (1/2)
The sound of hurried footsteps reached me half a second before a woman barreled around the corner. I was too distracted to recognize Paisley Pringle, owner of the Curl Up and Dye, until she was almost past me. ”Abby?” She stopped so fast I almost expected to smell burning rubber. ”Hey! How are you doing?”
Paisley's a friendly woman, if a bit ditzy. She's always trying to convince me to let her ”fix” my hair. I don't mean to sound fussy, but if Paisley's hair was any indication of what I could expect, I'd pa.s.s.
Paisley fluffed her short reddish hair with the fingers of one hand. Last time I saw her, she had long, bluish black hair that fell to the middle of her back. Today, her hair was about two inches long. That's not unusual for Paisley. Her hair color and style are different almost every time I see her, thanks to the magic of dye and extensions. Even so, I've yet to see her wearing a combination I'd consider letting her re-create on my head.
That didn't mean I wanted to alienate her, though. Paradise is still a small town, and people here have long memories.
I tried to look friendly back. ”I'm fine, thanks. Busy.” I didn't want to open the door for a lengthy conversation, but my mother would have killed me if she saw me behaving that rudely. ”How about you?”
”The same. Gearing up for the holidays. You know how that is. You're away from the shop early. Taking a little time off?”
”Actually, no.” I said. ”I'm running some errands, having an early dinner.”
Paisley smiled and glanced at her watch, a chunky silver thing that looked as if it weighed about ten pounds. ”Are you through for the day? I just had a cancellation. I have time to give you a quick cut and blow-dry if you're interested.”
I had no idea how many times I'd have to say no before Paisley realized I meant it, but apparently it was at least one more time than I'd said it already. ”No thanks. I'm right in the middle of something.”
Paisley bent to scratch Max and ran a glance over the bag I was carrying. ”I see you've been to Gavin's.”
Paisley has a talent for getting people to spill their guts without asking a single question. I'm not sure how she does it, but I actually felt a twinge of guilt for not telling her what was in the bag. ”Yeah,” I said. ”Listen, I need to get back. Karen's running the store on her own.” Technically true. I considered Liberty too new to be of much help.
”Oh. Sure. Of course. I saw your ad in the Post. You're looking for help?”
I nodded, chafing at the delay and trying not to show it. ”We decided it's time.”
”Any luck so far?”
Since I'd just claimed that Karen was alone, I was hesitant to admit the truth. But Paradise is too small to tell a lie, especially one that could be discredited faster than a kid can eat a handful of gummy bears. ”Actually, Karen found someone already, so I guess we're all set. That's . . . uh . . . that's why I have to get back. She's running the store and training the new clerk.”
”Well that's great! Who did you hire?”
”You probably wouldn't know her,” I said, relieved that she didn't seem suspicious about my conflicting stories. I glanced around again in case the limping man had come back, but I still couldn't see him. In the process, my gaze skimmed across Paisley's eager face, and another twinge of guilt plucked at me. Determined to prove that my mother had instilled a few manners in me, I tried to give Paisley my full attention. ”Her name's Liberty Parker.”
”Liberty? Of course I know her. She grew up here, you know.”
”That's what she said.”
”She'll be great. I remember her as being a very friendly girl. Popular. She'll be a good draw for you. If you're hiring, that must mean you're doing well.”
”We're doing fine, I think. At least for now.”
She smiled, and we shared a moment. Two small business women who understood that life as a shop owner was never stable. Every day brought a new challenge, and nothing was ever guaranteed. ”I heard you talking as I came around the corner,” she said just as I was about to make an excuse and leave. ”You said something about a man with a limp?”
Had I? I dimly remembered talking to Max, but I couldn't remember what I'd said. ”I thought I saw someone I know. I must have been wrong.”
”The guy with a limp? You know who he is?”
She sounded more than idly curious, which piqued my own curiosity. ”Why? Have you seen him?”
She nodded. ”He's been hanging around for a couple of days. He never says anything, and he never tries to come inside, but he makes me kind of nervous anyway. But if he's a friend of yours-”
”He's not a friend,” I said quickly, ”just someone I ran into a few days ago. Do you have any idea where I can find him now?”
Paisley shook her head thoughtfully. ”I saw him about ten minutes ago, but I have no idea where he went.”
I was disappointed but not surprised. ”Is he usually here at this time of day?”
She shook her head again. ”No. He doesn't really keep a schedule that I've noticed. He's just . . . there sometimes.”
That didn't surprise me either. It would have been nice to know when I could find him again, but I was thrilled to find two other people who'd seen him around town. I'd been standing still so long my fingers were beginning to hurt from the cold. I made a two-handed fist and breathed on it to warm my fingers. ”Have you ever seen him with anyone? Getting into or out of a car?”
Paisley tilted her head to one side and thought a bit harder. ”I don't remember seeing him with anyone else. I could ask Mom. She's seen him, too. Maybe she's noticed something I haven't.”
”Could you ask and let me know? It's really important that I find him. But if you see him, please don't tell him I'm looking for him.”
”Ooh,” Paisley said with a grin. ”That sounds mysterious.”
I didn't want to spark a wholesale panic by telling her the truth, but neither did I want to leave her thinking that I was playing some kind of game. ”It's not really,” I said. ”I need to talk to him about something that happened the other night. I think he's trying to avoid me, that's all.”
Paisley's smile slipped, and the spark faded from her eye. ”Oh. Okay. Well, then, I should let you get back to work, and I'd better do the same.”
She trotted across the street, and I went back to trying to figure out where the limping man had gone. I couldn't see anything in either direction likely to interest him, but with dozens of alleyways, parking lots, and miniature parks dot-ting the city, he could be anywhere by now.
Swallowing disappointment, I decided to take the long way back to Divinity and turned south on Twelve Peaks. I still had fifteen minutes left of my break, and a brisk walk to clear my head seemed like a good idea.
Max fell in beside me, and we walked around three legs of a block. We'd just crossed the street and started the long pull up the steep incline that was Grandview Drive when Max's ears shot straight up, and he let out a high-pitched whine.
This wasn't the first time since he'd become my dog that he'd done that, and a warning bell sounded in my head right away. If Max followed his usual pattern, the next step in this dance was taking off at a dead run. I tightened my grip on his leash, but I was a split second too late. His claws scrambled for purchase on the pavement, caught, and he was off.
He darted through the spa.r.s.e traffic and into the parking lot of Walgreens, while I panted after him. I could see him dodging cars in the parking lot, turning, and weaving through the line at the drive-up prescription window.
”Max!” I shouted as I headed toward the drive-through window. I knew it wouldn't do any good. When Max is in this mood, he doesn't pay attention to anything. ”Come back. Max!”
Struggling to follow him, I prayed that, since we were just half a block from Divinity, he'd turn up at home if I couldn't catch him. With my lungs burning from exertion, I rounded the back of the building and saw Max straight ahead of me. Miraculously, he'd stopped running, and his attention was riveted on the hedge growing between the drugstore and the stairs leading down the hill I'd just climbed.
Even from a distance, I could see something mounded there, and another warning bell went off in the back of my head. I told myself not to jump to conclusions, but I had the sick feeling that either Max had discovered a hundred-pound bag of kibble, or there was something in that hedge I didn't want to see.
My breath was coming easier now, so I tried calling him again. ”Max? Come here, boy.” I kept my voice light, hoping I could lure him away, but he didn't even lift his head.
”Max! Come.”
He burrowed a little deeper into the hedge, still not interested in anything I had to say.
”Max!”
”Abby?” A man's voice came out of the darkness behind me.