Ghastly Glass (29 page)

I
thought about what Bart had said to me as I walked into the Glass Gryphon, maybe for the last time. My glassmaking skills were subpar, but if I could prove Henry had attacked Roger, that would be sweet.

Of course there was that bet with Chase to win. He was so wrong about Henry killing Ross. I had no idea who did the deed, but I knew it wasn’t Henry.

“There you are, Jessie.” Henry hailed me as soon as I stepped through the doorway. “I’m taking these two lovely ladies out for coffee. Think you can hold down the fort?”

One of the ladies giggled and adjusted her pearl headpiece. “Oh, Henry, you say the smartest things! You’re a genius, really.”

I agreed generously to take care of the shop for him. What would be a better opportunity to snoop around some? “Go ahead. I’ll hang out here.”

“Thanks, sweetie.” He chucked my chin as he went by.

To think I found him even remotely attractive made my stomach turn. I was glad to see him and his two ladies hit the cobblestones.

I figured I could keep the shop open and still look around for the sage green glass rod. Not that many people were wandering in and out yet. It was still early.

I left the back door open and checked in the shed first. If Henry hadn’t burned the rod, he might’ve stuck it behind something until he could get to it. If he had burned it, there might still be some trace of it. I didn’t know whether that would help the police or not. For all of my years watching crime shows on TV, I couldn’t recall a case where a glass rod was the murder weapon. This might be a first, even though Roger wasn’t technically dead.

But there wasn’t a sign of green glass inside or outside the furnace in the storage building. I had barely finished looking when the front door opened for two witches with warts covering their faces. I was pretty sure the warts were real.

“We’re looking for a glass image of the devil,” the first witch told me. “Do you have anything like that here?”

I showed them the tortured demon/creature aisle, but that’s not what they were looking for. “Were these forged in the fires of hell?” the second witch asked.

“Not exactly, unless you call this hell,” I answered.

“I suppose it could do.” She glanced around, then kind of fluttered away to look at the aisle of mystical creatures.

“I don’t think we’re interested,” First Witch said.

“Maybe we are,” Second Witch disagreed. “Look at these centaurs!”

The two went on about how realistic they were until I thought I might toss both of them out of the shop. But they finally each bought one. I wrapped them up, processed Lady Visa, and shipped them out.

When I was alone again, I searched through Roger’s work area looking for the green glass. There was still no sign of it. It was depressing. Henry could have hid it anywhere. He could’ve heaved it out into the ocean or dropped it on a rock somewhere and smashed it into a gazillion pieces. I might never find it.

There was still no sign of him coming back from coffee. I drummed my fingers on my workbench and glanced toward the stairs going up to Roger’s apartment.
Hmm.
That was one place I hadn’t checked. Would Henry have been daring enough to hide the weapon he’d used on his uncle right in his own living space?

Because he didn’t strike me as being particularly bright, I ran for the stairs. I didn’t think he’d recognize the irony of hiding the glass upstairs, but I thought he’d do it without thinking.

Roger’s apartment was clean and neat. Everything that could be folded was folded. Not a spoon or cup was out of place in the kitchen. No wonder Mary loved him. Chase is neat but not over-the-top about it. I like that about him.

I checked out the tiny sitting area and kitchen. No luck. I moved into the bedroom, which was reminiscent of military movies. Roger didn’t throw his clothes around either. Not even a dirty pair of socks hanging in the bathroom. A paragon.

I climbed under the bed and found only a few old photos of Roger in his heyday as a police officer. He wasn’t half-bad-looking. Not that I’m attracted to the law enforcement type (except for Chase, of course, and he’s not real law enforcement).

I heard a noise downstairs, and I shoved the photo book back under the bed (no dust bunnies either). I straightened my shirt and tried to think of plausible excuses why I could be upstairs.
I burned myself and was looking for a bandage. Or I heard a sound upstairs and went to find out if there was a problem.

I heard a footstep on the stairs and my heart beat double time to match the military mode around me. None of those excuses made any sense. I panicked. What if Henry took one look at me like I’d looked at him yesterday and realized why I was really up here? What if the jig, as they say, was up, and I was left standing here with stupid excuses he wouldn’t believe?

The footsteps came farther upstairs. I looked around the room like a cornered animal. What was I going to say? What would he do? I’d promised Chase I wouldn’t get killed. He was going to be ticked if he thought I’d lied to him.

I sneaked into the kitchen and looked for knives or something to defend myself with. The biggest knife I could find was a butter knife. The next possible weapon was a wooden salad tong that looked kind of deadly, if you were a piece of pottery.

The door to the apartment opened into the kitchen. I stood with my back to the sink, wondering if I could still contact Chase in time to make any difference. We might be the whole length of the Village apart. He couldn’t get to me in time and would have to listen to my dying screams on the two-way radio. A horrible way to go but worse for the one left behind, consumed with guilt and wracked with despair.

“Jessie?” Henry smiled when he saw me. “I thought you were up here. Had to use the john, right?”

Why didn’t I think of that?
It was ingenious. “Yeah. That’s right. It was either that or I might not have made it to the next privy, if you know what I mean. That breakfast just didn’t sit right with me.”

“You shouldn’t leave the doors open when you have to come up here.” He looked around the empty apartment. “It just isn’t the same without Uncle Roger here.”

Before he had a chance to get truly pretend maudlin, the shop door rang downstairs.
Thank God.
If I’d had to hear how much he cared for Roger, I would’ve been sick. “Sounds like a customer. Race you down there.”

I ran past him and waited on the young couple who’d come in to scope out the place. I could tell they didn’t have much money, so I gave them a deal on a little blue dragon. Everyone needs a souvenir and I was feeling particularly generous, being alive and all.

“Have you tried your hand yet this morning on your fairy or whatever you were working on yesterday?” Henry looked around at my workbench when we were alone again. “I know Uncle Roger would’ve been excited to see how well you’ve been doing.”

“He’s not dead, Henry,” I reminded him as I switched on my torch. It was fun watching him jump away from the flame. “He’ll be back.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He strolled toward his workbench with a demonic smile on his handsome face. “I told you about the psychology of the problem. I don’t imagine Uncle Roger will be back, Jessie.”

I picked up my work from yesterday, deciding not to argue the point. I looked at my fairy/butterfly. The colors were good, and I could tell it was something with wings. The rest was kind of a blur. I wondered if I could layer eyes on it, maybe a little red for the mouth. If it was going to be a fairy, it would also need legs. Clear legs, I guessed, since there were no flesh-colored glass rods to shape.

“Hey, did you ever find that sage-colored rod?” I decided I could question him without him realizing I was questioning him. “I sure wish I had it for my fairy’s dress.”

“Nope. Sorry.” He was brief, immersed in his own work.

“Whoever attacked Roger didn’t even steal his wallet. It doesn’t make sense that someone would attack him yet not steal anything, does it?”

“I don’t understand the criminal mind,” he said finally after a few long moments. “Maybe whoever did it had a motive other than theft.”

“Like what?” I glanced up at him. Maybe I could get him to give himself away. Okay, not to the extent that he’d try to kill me. Just enough so I’d understand what
his
motive was.

“I don’t know. He’s always talking about his past. Maybe one of the people he put in jail found him and wanted to get rid of him.”

“But that’s just the thing,” I argued. “Whoever attacked Roger didn’t get rid of him. Ross was killed but not Roger.”

Henry looked up at me through his goggles. “Ross?” “Death. The first figure of Death. Not Bart.”

“Just because Uncle Roger was spared doesn’t mean his attacker didn’t
want
to kill him. Maybe he didn’t have time.”

“There was no one there when I found him. It’s not like I scared the bad guy off or anything. Wouldn’t he have still been there when I got there?”

“Maybe he heard you coming.”

“And what do you think he used to beat Roger so badly? Whatever it was, it was different than what killed Ross.”

“You sound like you know something about it,” Henry scoffed. “I know you were there, Jessie, but sleeping with Chase doesn’t make you a cop.”

He was rattled. I could tell. I wasn’t sure where to go from there. If I kept pushing his buttons, he might say something he’d regret. Or he’d chase me around the room with his torch. Either way, I’d have my answer.

A short older man wearing a neat two-button suit came into the shop. He didn’t look like the usual visitor (if there is such a thing), but he smiled at Henry, who promptly dropped the glass dancer he’d been creating. The shattering glass broke the silence between them.

“Hello, Henry. How’s it going?”

“Lou. I wasn’t expecting to see you today. We should talk out back.”

“We should.” The man nodded politely in my direction as Henry ushered him out the back door while he tried to remove his work apron.

I gave them a minute, then crept to the open door to listen. The sounds of William Shakespeare spouting his newest ode mingled with the cries of the wraiths as they strutted through the Village. The Lovely Laundry Ladies called out to visitors as they passed by. Fred the Red Dragon roared at some kids dressed like vampires.

I listened for the sound of Henry’s whining voice as he spoke to Lou behind the glass shop. “Listen, you know I’m good for it.”

“I know what you’re good for, my friend,” Lou said. “It ain’t thirty Gs.”

“I know it’s a lot but things are finally going my way now. I had a horse that came in second place yesterday.”

“That won’t help you with this here.”

“My uncle owns this shop and the one I’m opening over by the Pavilion. I’m sure I could get something out of that.” I couldn’t see Henry, but I could imagine the weasely look on his face.

“How soon?” Lou came right to the point.

“Tomorrow. I can have it all tomorrow,” Henry promised. “My uncle met with an unfortunate accident. Because of our recent partnership, he gave me his power of attorney. While he’s laid up, I have charge of his affairs. I’m sure I can get a loan for the money.”

“Spare me the details. Just get it. I’ll be back tomorrow. Don’t think about skipping off without it.”

“You know I’m not skipping, Lou.” Henry said it like it was something good. “There’s going to be a costume contest. We could meet there. No one would notice.”

“Yeah. I’ll be sure to come as Death in case you don’t have the money.”

The conversation sounded like it was over. I ducked back into the shop as the front door opened and several customers came in to browse. I went right along with them so Henry would think I’d been there the whole time. He came in and went to his workbench.

The two ladies were very extravagant. They’d obviously gotten into the spirit of things; they were dressed in beautiful velvet gowns and gauzy headdresses. The men looked bored and hadn’t bothered to dress up, though that didn’t matter when it came time to take out Sir MasterCard.

The whole time I’d been waiting on them my brain was on fire with this new information. Roger had given Henry his power of attorney. That meant as long as Roger was in the hospital, Henry could do what he wanted with his belongings. Of course, when Roger got out there’d be hell to pay. But, I supposed for Henry, it would be better to owe Roger than Lou.

As soon as the visitors left the shop, Henry put away his tools and turned off his torch. “I have some important matters to take care of, Jessie,” he said. “I know I can trust you to watch the shop. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He went upstairs as a Renaissance craftsman and came back down as a twenty-first-century businessman complete with coat, tie, and attaché case. Roger would’ve been so proud to see his evil-spawn nephew going out to sell everything out from under him. Ah, the ties of blood.

He kind of saluted me as he walked by. I counted to ten after he was out the front door, then called Chase. I explained the basic situation, not wanting to say it all where we could be overheard. He told me he was on his way, and I turned off the radio as another group of visitors joined me.

The pace was frantic that morning. Lilly Hamilton had stirred up a hornet’s nest. Everyone wanted to be at the Village in case something awful happened that they could relate to family and friends ahead of the six o’clock news. I’d never seen so many video recorders and cell phones open to take pictures, just in case.

Chase finally arrived about an hour later. He brought beer and brats. Good thing, too. I would’ve pretended not to know him after he took so long to get to the shop.

“I’m sorry,” he said as we sat down to eat. “This place is like a zoo today. I’ve had to confiscate more than one hundred cans of red spray paint. I guess the word is out, thanks to Lilly, and now everyone wants to leave their mark.”