Part 9 (1/2)
Scarlett's phone rang. With a wave of her hand, she excused herself and took the call.
Annie Mae and I stepped out of the office to give her some privacy.
In the hallway, packages wrapped in brown paper leaned against the wall. They all looked the size and thickness of framed paintings. One package was ripped in the corner, showing an ornate gold frame.
A row of various-sized boxes lined part of a wall. One box sat half opened, as if in the middle of being packed up, revealing the top of a blue and white porcelain item.
”She sure has a lot of stuff here, doesn't she?” Annie Mae pointed to another box that was open. ”Hey, look here. One of those mystery boxes.”
”How do you know?”
She pointed to a sticker on the side that read ”Mystery box.”
”Good going, Watson.” I patted her back.
”Why am I Watson? Why can't I be Sherlock?” Annie Mae asked.
”Because you're a doctor, remember? Dr. Watson.” I bent down and began to look through the opened mystery box.
Annie Mae followed suit. She pulled out a small, silver windup alarm clock. ”I could really use this. I like old-fas.h.i.+oned clocks with their soothing tick tock. Like white noise to help me sleep. It's awfully quiet without Ernie around the house.”
The curtain pulled open, and a freckle-faced young man walked over to us. ”Hi, I'm Zachary. Can I help you ladies?”
”We're just waiting for Scarlett to finish a call.” I offered my hand. ”My name is Cat, and this is my friend Annie Mae.”
Zachary shook our hands.
”How much is this mystery box?” Annie Mae lifted the box.
”I'm not allowed to sell any of those. I sort of messed up the last box.” Zachary ran his fingers through his curly brown hair. ”I don't want to get fired.”
”I wouldn't want that to happen to you, either. I just a.s.sumed it was for sale.” Annie Mae set the box on the floor.
”Why don't you leave me your contact information so that I could call you when it's ready to be sold?” Zachary reached over and tore a corner of brown wrapping paper off a package nearby and then pulled a black pen from his pocket. He handed both to Annie Mae.
Annie Mae wrote down her information and gave it to Zachary.
Beyond the boxes, I saw a stack of newspapers. ”By the way, I see you have a big stack of newspapers back there.”
”Those?” Zachary shot a thumb over his shoulder. ”We use them for wrapping breakable items, which is pretty much everything in here.”
”Where do you get them?” Annie Mae asked.
”Out of a recycling dumpster on Jones Street,” Zachary said. ”About once a week, I head over there and grab a huge stack.”
We needed to check out the recycling bins on Jones. Maybe we could find another newspaper similar to the one in Lucy's mystery box. Perhaps this could lead us to the killer.
”Does anyone here do the newspaper crossword puzzle?” I asked.
”I'm not much of a puzzle person. And I know Aunt Scarlett is hooked on that numbers puzzle.” Zachary's forehead furrowed.
”Sudoku?” Annie Mae offered.
”That's it.” Zachary bobbed his head up and down.
The office door opened, and Scarlett stuck her head out. ”Zachary, you made it. Can you please go up front and open the register?”
”Yes, ma'am.” Zachary waved us good-bye and made his way to the front of the store.
”Pardon me, but I must get back to work.” Scarlett guided us down the hallway. She pulled the curtain aside, and we walked through.
A jingle on the front door announced someone entering.
I shook Scarlett's hand. ”Thank you so much for the tea and for your time. Would you mind if I called you if something came up?”
”Just in case we have some questions,” Annie Mae added. ”And I want to buy one of your mystery boxes. Zachary has my information.”
Scarlett placed her business card in my hand. A large diamond sparkled on her right ring finger. ”I'm so sorry about Lucy. I really am.”
”Me, too,” I said. ”Oh, and just one last question. Does anyone around here do crossword puzzles or write with a purple pen?”
Scarlett led us into the showroom. ”I'm more of a Sudoku fan, and purple ink? I prefer black.”
We said good-bye. Scarlett approached a group of four ladies who had just entered.
Annie Mae and I exited Blue Belle.
”Let's eat,” Annie Mae said. ”It's way past lunch.”
As we drove to the Green Truck, my mind kept obsessing about the newspaper recycling bin on Jones Street and the crossword puzzle.
Did it mean that the murderer lived close by? Did he or she intend the crossword puzzle filled in with *your next' for someone else? Or did it reach the intended victim then get disposed of afterwards in the bin?
One thing I knew for sure.
The killer was close.
Chapter Ten.
We finished our late lunch and got back in my SUV.
”Poor kid.” Annie Mae buckled in.
”Who?” I put my key in the ignition, started the car, and blasted the air conditioner.
”That young man who works at Scarlett's shop. He seemed sweet but a little shaken up. Didn't he seem nervous about selling that mystery box?” Annie Mae asked.