Lethal Lawman. Carla Cassidy
to empty her mind, to achieve the faint shield of numbness that had become a comfortable, familiar companion.
As she pulled around to the parking in the back of the store, there was only one car in the front parking lot. Business usually picked up later in the afternoon and would only get better as the summer season got into full swing.
She paused before getting out of the car to check her purse and make sure she had her cell phone. She was vaguely surprised that she hadn’t heard from Frank yet. Surely he’d had time to talk to Michael Arello by now.
Satisfied that she had her phone, she got out of the car and entered the shop through the back door and into the storage area. Abe sat at the picnic table where they all took their breaks, a large submarine sandwich on a paper plate before him.
“Hey, Marlene.” He greeted her with a smile. Abe Winslow was the person both Sheri and Marlene depended on not just for heavy lifting but also so that the store had a male presence, making it less likely that somebody would try to take advantage of a shop full of women.
“Hi, Abe. Has it been busy this morning?”
He shook his head. “Slow day, but hopefully things will pick up later.”
“That sandwich looks big enough to feed a family of four,” she said teasingly.
“Just right for a big guy like me,” he replied and patted his slightly protruding stomach. “All that’s missing is a nice big hunk of one of your aunt Liz’s pies or cakes.”
A stab of pain pierced through Marlene’s heart as she thought of her missing aunt. “Hopefully you’ll get some of her pies or cakes again in the near future.” With a wave of her hand, she left the storage area and went into the main shop, where Sheri stood behind the register and a husband and wife attempted to corral three children running through the aisles.
“Hey, sis,” Sheri greeted her. “I heard about the drama at your place last night.”
“Let me guess...Roxy. She came running up the stairs like a short Amazon warrior ready to kick butt.”
Sheri laughed. “That’s our Roxy.” Her laughter died. “Seriously, are you doing okay?”
“I’m fine. I had Larry Samson come by first thing this morning and put in a door that a Titan couldn’t get through. I’ve just been waiting for an update from Frank to see if the culprit was the little stinker Michael.”
“I should have never given him a second chance after knowing he’d stolen from Roxy’s place,” Sheri said regretfully.
Marlene smiled. “But that’s what you do. Roxy kicks butt and you give people second chances. It’s hard to believe we all came from the same mother.”
“Speaking of which, did Frank happen to mention if he’s found out where Ramona might be holed up?”
“He still hasn’t managed to find her anywhere,” Marlene replied. “I’m going to go straighten up some of the shelves,” she said as the shopping family approached the register carrying a variety of items.
Marlene began to walk the aisles, straightening items as she went. Her thoughts centered suddenly on the mother who had abandoned them all. Ramona Marcoli, Liz’s much-younger sister, had left Wolf Creek when she’d been seventeen years old. Eight years later she’d returned just long enough to drop off seven-year-old Roxy on Liz’s doorstep, and then a little over four years later had dropped off four-year-old Marlene. Sheri had come four years after that as a newborn.
Liz had taken in each of her sister’s children as her own, and it was rare that Marlene even thought about the woman who had given birth to them. She had only vague memories of those first four years of her life, and she didn’t even remember what Ramona looked like.
But Ramona had become a person of interest in Liz’s disappearance, and the fact that Frank and the other detectives had been unable to locate Ramona was the only reason Roxy and Sheri continued to maintain hope that Liz would turn up alive and well.
Marlene didn’t entertain the same fantasy. She didn’t believe in fairy-tale happy endings. Although she spoke differently aloud, she was a realist and after this length of time she believed Liz was dead. It was a belief she hadn’t shared with her sisters or anyone else, but rather an ache in her soul that she kept to herself.
The afternoon passed slowly, with few customers, and by four o’clock Marlene shooed Sheri out of the store. They’d already sent Jennifer home.
“Get out of here,” Marlene had said to Sheri. “There’s no point in both of us being here with Abe and no customers.”
After a weak protest, Sheri had grabbed her purse and left. Marlene sat on a stool behind the register while Abe worked in the storeroom unloading a shipment of the latest in Wolf Creek souvenirs.
She assumed that since Frank hadn’t called her he had no definitive answers for her. She’d hoped that Frank had confronted Michael by now and that Michael had fallen to his knees and confessed.
“Yeah, right,” she muttered aloud and stood as a customer came into the shop.
It was just before six when Abraham Zooker pulled up in his horse and carriage. Abraham was one of the Amish who lived on the nearby settlement and often brought in new pieces of furniture to sell on consignment.
He stopped in the store about once a week, either to bring something new or to check on the sales of the items he’d already brought in to sell.
This time he brought nothing inside with him except a smile. “Good evening, Marlene. I was driving from town to my home and decided to stop by.”
“I’m glad you did. We sold one of your quilt racks and a cupboard this past week.” She opened the register and pulled out an envelope that had his name written on it. Inside would be an accounting of the sale of the items and the money due to him.
“I thank you,” he said as he took the envelope. “And if you have room in the store I thought perhaps next week I’d bring in a bookcase I’ve been working on.”
“We always have room for your things,” Marlene replied. The older Amish man was a gifted crafter of fine furniture and they had been very successful in selling many of his beautiful pieces.
Abraham stayed only a few minutes making small talk about the weather and spring planting and then finally left. He had no wife and she rarely saw him with others from the Amish settlement, but he seemed satisfied creating sturdy, well-made, beautiful furniture for others to enjoy.
Around seven o’clock, Frank Delaney’s familiar car pulled up in front of the store. There were no other customers and she’d sent Abe home a few minutes before, deciding that she’d close the store at this time again tonight.
At the sight of Frank getting out of his car, her stomach twisted into a knot of tension. It was a tension she wasn’t sure was created by the fact that he was hot and handsome and set her senses on edge, or if it was because if he told her that Michael Arello wasn’t responsible for the mess in her apartment the night before then she had to wonder who in this small town might hate her enough to invade and destroy her personal space. Or if the evil man from her past had for some reason entered into her present?
* * *
Frank had specifically waited until this late in the evening to stop by and touch base with Marlene, hoping there would be no customers in the store and he would have a few minutes alone with her.
It was ridiculous, how much she’d been on his mind throughout the day. He had spent the daytime hours speaking with the Arellos and interviewing Minnie and anyone else who might have seen Michael lurking around the area of the apartment the day before.
But he’d also spent far too much time wondering if her pale blond hair was as silky as it looked, if her ice-blue eyes would deepen in hue and light with fire when she made love.
He hadn’t thought this way about a woman since his wife’s death. He’d