Snow Way Out (18 page)

She shrugged. “I wish I knew. You know how scatterbrained I am at times. It could be a week, more or less.”

Pinky’s group of businessman regulars came in, followed by an older couple. I helped her until I saw a woman in my shop and went to attend to her.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

T
he day dragged on as I kept thinking about the fact that Erin and Pinky each owned a knife like the one used to kill Jerrell Powers. And Pinky’s was missing. Clint hadn’t warned us not to contact Erin, but I presumed he wouldn’t take kindly to me sending her a warning text. I wondered what Erin would have to say.

The lanky guy peeked in my shop window from behind his Buddy Holly glasses and put all thoughts of the murder weapon on hold for the time being. When our eyes met, he turned and headed north. I set the snow globe of an ancient castle sitting on the Rhine River bank I was dusting back on the shelf and hurried to the door. When I pushed it open a cold, damp breeze sent a chill through me, but didn’t stop me from taking off at a jog after him. But he had once again disappeared. I figured he must have gone down the narrow walkway between our building and the next, so I took that route.

When I reached the parking lot, I saw the backside of him as he rode away on the bicycle. “Hey, I want to talk to you,” I called out. He didn’t hear me, or else he pretended he didn’t, because he kept going. I was a little out of breath from nerves and the jog, short as it was. I reached into my pocket for my cell phone to call Mark then remembered I’d left it on the shop counter. Doggone it, anyway. The nippy air and the need to call the police propelled me to hurry back to the shop as fast as possible.

Pinky was standing in the archway when I got back in. “I didn’t know where you’d gone to. Your phone was ringing, but by the time I realized you must not be able to answer it, they’d hung up. What’s up? Your face is all flushed.”

“That strange man looked in my window just now, and I tried to catch up to him, but he was faster. Which, of course, doesn’t take much since most people are.” I found my phone and dialed Mark’s number. It went to voicemail, so I tried Clint’s.

“Assistant Chief Lonsbury.”

“It’s Camryn. He was just here, looking in my window, but got away before I could talk to him.”

“Are you talking about your alleged admirer?”

“Yes. Do you think you can track him down?”

“I’m in the office, but I’ll have the two officers on patrol look for him. Was he on foot?”

“No, he was on his bicycle.”

“Are you able to give a description of the bike now?”

“Not exactly. But I know for sure now that it was black.”

“That works. Which way did he go?”

“Across the back parking lot toward First Avenue.”

“Okay, hold on while I get on the radio and give the info to my officers.” I heard Clint give his badge number and call for two other officers by their badge numbers. I recognized one as Mark’s: 513. Clint relayed what I’d told him then I heard Mark and another male both say, “Ten-four.”

“Are you there, Camryn?” Clint said.

“I am.”

“You got a good look at the man in question?”

“I did, and he is definitely the same guy. No doubt in my mind. If I could just figure out why he looks vaguely familiar.”

“My point is, when he looked at you, did you feel threatened in any way?”

I thought about that a few seconds. “No. I got the impression he wanted to tell me something but lost his nerve when we made eye contact. It’s just odd.”

“Until we figure out what in the heck he is up to, watch your back. Now that you’ve had another encounter and another good look at the man, I’m going to talk to the county, see if we can schedule an appointment for you to work with their sketch artist. It’d help our officers to see what he looks like, or close to it. Might prevent them from stopping the wrong tall man riding a bike.”

“All right. Thank you, Clint.”

I went back to dusting the shelves of snow globes, burning with curiosity over the identity of the disappearing bicycler. My mind went back to our high school days. I’d looked through the yearbooks, but there were a few kids from each class who didn’t have their photo included for one reason or another. Was there a boy who had maybe transferred at midyear, too late to make it into the book? That was a possibility. The problem was, I could not think of anyone, girl or boy, who had done that.

I wandered over to the archway holding a snow globe filled with ice-skating children. Pinky was washing some mugs. “Hey, Pink, do you remember any new boys coming to our school senior year?”

Pinky gave her head a shake and scrunched up her face. “What in the world brought that up?”

“I’m trying to place that guy who has been popping in and out of my life the past week. I don’t think he’s one of our classmates, unless he’s changed a lot since high school.”

“We didn’t have any new kids come during the school year. Mary Ellen Davies moved here the summer before, but she was the only one. You are digging deep. Holler next time you see him. I’ll run out and see if I can trip him.”

I shook my head at her proposal then looked at the snow globe and gave it a shake. “I’m just plain old frustrated, that’s all.” I went back to my duties and returned the globe to its spot. For some reason I felt the need to look at each snow globe in the shop for assurance that no new ones had appeared. I had gotten paranoid, for sure.

Each globe was unique and held a story or dream or promise, it seemed. And if you were a purist about what constituted a good snowy scene, some of the scenes fit and some didn’t. There were a number from places around the world, like the Eiffel Tower standing tall with green grass at its base, or the desert town of Bethlehem in Israel, where snow was very rare, or New Dehli, India, where I was pretty sure it never snowed. But I wasn’t the official snow globe police who picked which cities were captured under snowy domes and which ones weren’t.

And there were the other ones, like a single ballerina who spun to music on her tippy toes when the crank on her globe was wound and released, the one with a trio of youthful cherubs with their mouths open in apparent song, and the one with a carousel of horses. Whether the figurines technically fit in a snow globe or not, it didn’t seem to matter. I liked each one of them, and so did my customers. I found the globe I went back to the most often: the lighthouse on the brown ceramic base. I turned on its light, picked it up, gave it a shake, then set it down and watched it for a while, appreciating what it represented.

“Are you dreaming about a trip to the North Shore, or what?” Pinky’s voice startled me.

“Maybe next summer. No, this is one of my favorites. A port in the storm, a light at the end of the tunnel.”

Pinky came up beside me and practically stuck her nose in my face. “You’re not getting all deep on me, are you? Like, I don’t think you’re talking about lighthouses here, but what they might symbolize.”

“Maybe.”

Pinky put her arm around my shoulder. “Why don’t you go home early today? I’ll stay.”

I reached up and gave her dangling hand a squeeze. “No, the deal is, you come in early, I stay late.”

“All right, then, I’ll take off. It’s four o’clock, and no sign of Erin yet today. I was afraid to call her what with Clint about to question her and everything.”

“Yeah, she almost always stops by on Fridays; she must have had something else to do. I’ve been waiting for her to call and tell us how it went when Clint talked to her. Which tells me it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Yeah, I’ll drive by her place and let you know if there’s a police car there.”

“Okay.”

“And I’ll be on the lookout for a tall guy riding around on a bike.”

“Be sure to call Mark or Clint or the PD first if you do. Then call me.”

“Yes, ma’am. Toodle-oo.” She turned and headed back to her shop. A minute later she called out a final good-bye. I finished dusting the last shelf and paused by a snow globe of two women sitting at a table with cups of coffee in front of them. For some reason, it reminded me that I needed to talk to Pamela Hemley about someone letting May Gregors into her house at a time Pam said she hadn’t been there. Maybe I’d invite her over for a cup of coffee.

I went to the counter and used the shop phone to make the call. It was after 5:30, and Pam answered right away. “Hello?” She sounded hesitant.

“Hi, it’s Camryn.”

“Hi.”

“Pam, I was wondering if you’d have time to stop by my shop. We could have a cup of something at Brew Ha-Ha.”

“Why? Are you doing this because it’s the one-week anniversary of, you know . . .”

“Well, no, that’s not it, but we can sure talk about it if you want.”

“When do you want me to come over?”

“As soon as you can make it, if that works. I usually close at six, but I’ll wait for you.”

She didn’t say anything for a while. “Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Good. See you then.”

I hung up and prayed I wouldn’t totally mess up what I had to say. I straightened some items on my counter then headed into the coffee shop. As I grabbed two mugs, the bell on Pinky’s door dinged and Pam came in. Her eyes were red and puffy. “Sorry, I sort of had a crying jag,” she said.

“Understandable, given everything you’ve been through. Come and sit down and tell me what you want to drink.”

She glanced up at the menu on the wall. “Maybe a hot chocolate. No offense, but nothing looks that good to me right now.”

“That’s all right. A hot chocolate coming right up. With or without marshmallows?”

“Without, thanks.”

I served up two of the same and carried them to a table in the back. “Let’s sit here.”

I set the mugs down and Pam took one of the pink padded chairs and I sat across from her on a black one.

We each took a sip before I said, “Something has been bothering me and I need to tell you about it.”

She raised her bloodshot eyes. “What?”

“I stopped by your house on Wednesday morning and I saw someone who really surprised me go in.”

“Who?” Her eyebrows drew together.

“May Gregors.”

“May Gregors went into my house?”
I thought she was going to drop her mug, so I reached over and guided it to the table. “On Wednesday morning?”

“Yes, I tried to tell you before this, but I honestly didn’t know the best way to do it.”

Pam stared at me. “You’re saying May Gregors went into my house. How? The doors were locked.” Her surprise was genuine and confirmed she’d told me the truth about being at work.

“Someone let her in.”

“Who?”

“I couldn’t see who it was. I thought it was you, but then when you said you weren’t home, I figured it was your sister, Lauren. But you said she had gone back to her home in St. Cloud, so I don’t know.”

“Lauren,” Pam whispered. “Only four people have a key to my house. My two kids and Lauren and me. Lauren.” She shook her head. “Why would she let Jerrell’s ex-wife into my house?”

“If it was her, you’ll have to ask. And there’s something else. May left carrying a brown paper bag she didn’t have when she went in. I thought maybe you had found her missing snow globe–making supplies.”

Pam shook her head. “She took something from my house?”

“I don’t know what it was. I’d be happy to be there with you when you talk to May, or even to your sister. You know, to verify what I saw.”

Pam pulled out her cell phone. “I’m calling Lauren to ask her about it.” She hit numbers and a few seconds later said, “Hi. . . . Really? I’m at Brew Ha-Ha. Meet me here instead. . . . Okay, ’bye.” She pushed the end button. “Lauren’s in Brooks Landing. She wanted to surprise me, take me out for a nice dinner.”

Lauren arrived in no time, and when she walked through the door it struck me that it had only been a week since I’d met the two of them when they had attended May’s fateful class. Lauren’s eyebrows rose when she saw I was the one sharing a drink with her sister. She slid onto a chair between us and she and Pam locked eyes.

“Can I get you something to drink, Lauren?” I asked, mostly to break the tension.

She threw a glance my way. “No, thanks. What’s going on here anyway?”

Pam seemed unable to speak as she and Lauren studied each other’s expressions, so I butted in. “We’re trying to solve a little mystery here.”

Lauren turned to me. “Oh? What kind of mystery?”

“A Wednesday-morning-at-Pam’s-house kind of mystery.”

“Wednesday morning?” Lauren looked down and then sideways at Pam. “Did you talk to May, or what?”

Pam shook her head. “So it was you who let her into
my hous
e
?”

“I was going to tell you when you were more up to it.”

“Tell me what?”

“That box of pictures and letters Jerrell had from his daughter. The one he had hidden that you found when he was in the halfway house. You showed it to me last year and said you should find out where his daughter was. And now that Jerrell’s dead, there was no reason not to get them back to her. Or her mother.”

“So you went behind my back and had May pick those things up?”

Lauren reached over and put her hand on Pam’s, but Pam pulled hers away and dropped both hands onto her lap. “I guess I was wrong, when you put it that way. I was trying to protect you from having to deal with that along with everything else. So I called May and she was happy to get her daughter’s letters and pictures.”

I supposed May wouldn’t have felt comfortable confessing all that to me.

Tears formed in Pam’s eyes and dropped onto her cheekbones. “You don’t have to protect me from everything, Lauren. I was planning to meet with Jerrell’s daughter sometime. Tell her that he had problems, but that he really was a caring man, deep down.”

Lauren didn’t seem to want to argue with Pam about that because she said, “Old habits die hard and I am really sorry I interfered. I stuck my nose in your business again. I know you loved Jerrell, and you can still meet with his daughter sometime.”

Pam’s shoulders shrugged up and down then she nodded. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I guess I could use some more of your help after all.”