Part 7 (1/2)
”Let's just hope that we didn't anger him too much.”
”Why?”
”I'm just saying that if he is still a suspect, that means he is capable of violence.”
”Shoot. Maybe I should have been nicer.”
”Too late.” My stomach twisted.
Chapter Eight.
Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the Red and White Grocery Store in Habersham Village.
A girl around eighteen years old stood at one of the three registers. Her red name badge read ”Cynthia.” The white linoleum floors had yellowed in spots that looked like permanent coffee stains. The place smelled of bleach and fresh-baked bread. Glancing around at the metal shelving and fluorescent lights, it looked as though the store hadn't changed much in the thirty years since it'd opened.
”Good morning, Cynthia. My name is Catherine Thomson. This is Annie Mae Maple. We were wondering if your manager would have a few moments to talk to us.”
”Are you Timmy and Teddy's mom?” Cynthia blushed.
”You know my sons?” I said.
”Um, like, yeah, every girl knows them.” She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. ”They're hot.”
”Did you hear that? Your boys are hot.” Annie Mae tapped me in the arm.
It unnerved me to hear my boys connected to that s.e.xual term. ”Can we talk to your manager, please?” I asked.
”Miss Susie Wells?”
”If that is your manager, then yes,” I said.
”Like, she left a while ago. I don't know if she's back yet.” Cynthia pressed a b.u.t.ton on a speaker next to the register and spoke into it. ”Miss Susie, you're wanted at register one.”
A lady walked through the automatic doors, letting in a blast of hot air. A squeaky wheel on her metal shopping cart echoed off the walls.
”While we're waiting for Miss Susie, I'd like to ask you some questions,” I said.
”Yes, I'm single.”
I raised an eyebrow, and my mouth fell open.
”Tell your sons. Either one, it doesn't matter.” Cynthia popped a piece of gum in her mouth and began chewing. ”'Cause they're identical. Like, you know.”
”Girls are not subtle these days, are they?” Annie Mae whispered in my ear.
”Cynthia, how long have you worked here?” I asked.
”Almost a year. But I only work part-time. Like, I still have school and all.” Cynthia twisted her hair around her finger and popped a bubble in her gum.
”Do you know a customer named Lucy Valentine?” I asked her.
”She's a friend of ours.” Annie Mae peered at a potted plant for sale at a table near the register. ”I need a plant that is low maintenance. Do you have any that don't need a lot of water or sun or, well, anything?”
”I dunno. They should have a little white stick thing in the pot that tells you about them.” Cynthia wiggled her hand.
Annie Mae walked over to the display and pulled out a white plastic stick. ”Found it. *Lots of sun, water every other day.' Way too much work for this one.”
”Do you know Lucy Valentine?” I asked Cynthia.
”Didn't she...” Cynthia leaned in. ”Slit her wrist?”
It made my heart sink into my stomach thinking about Lucy being gone. ”How well did you know her?”
”She came in here all the time. I'm, like, waaaaay younger than her. We weren't, like, friends or anything like that.” Cynthia rolled her eyes.
”Can you tell me anything you may remember about the last time you saw her?” I asked.
”I have a picture memory. It's something like photosynthesis or something.” She beamed as though telling me she had a genius IQ.
”Photographic?” I offered.
”Yeah. Right.” She snapped her gum. ”Like, I remember Lucy bought some peaches and some rolls. I also remember she was sort of weirded out. Like, she kept looking around every time my manager was in sight. Lucy's eyes kind of stalked her. You know what I mean?”
I said, ”Not really.”
Cynthia leaned in to me over the conveyor belt. ”Like, it was kind of creepy.”
A short, thin, redheaded lady wearing a tight sleeveless pink dress, offering ample cleavage, approached us. ”Did you need me?”
”Yeah. This lady here.” Cynthia waved her hand toward me.
I stuck out my hand. ”My name is Catherine Thomson, and over there is Annie Mae Maple.” I pointed to the plant display a few feet away. One by one, Annie Mae took out the white plant stakes and read them.
Just then, Annie Mae called out, ”I'm still looking for one that is low maintenance. Give me a few more minutes.”
”Try the Dieffenbachia or Pothos,” Susie called over to Annie Mae.
”Great. Thanks,” Annie Mae called back.
I smelled sweet fragrance near Susie. ”Nice perfume.”
”Oh, no. Just a new shampoo.” Susie fluffed her hair. ”You look familiar. You said your last name was Thomson?”