My stomach flipped. My hands shook as I pulled the door latch. I nodded and went into the house.
17
When I woke, still grinning, on Friday morning, I decided the only thing to do was track Tish down as quickly as possible and apologize. Even though after the apology I intended to grill her for information on why she went to Sara’s daughter and what was going on with my mother, I still felt much better about myself.
After the morning doggy rounds, we parked in town and gave Tuffy a drink. I told Seth to wait by the car while I checked the Reading Room for Tish. Friday wasn’t her usual day, but she might be found there seeing walk-ins.
Several people blasted out the door just as I reached for it. They hurried past, mumbling “excuse me” and continued down the street. It took only a moment to realize what the fuss was about. Tish’s voice was loud and clear, and an angry male voice tried to shout over it. I stepped cautiously inside, and Harriet flapped over to me, her cardigan sleeves straining to stay tied at her neck.
“Clytemnestra, do something! I think they’re going to tear the place apart.”
“What’s going on?”
Gary gestured wildly, strands of his thinning hair standing on end. Tish pointed a shaky finger at him. Phrases like “none of your business” and “liar” filled the air.
“Gary came in a few minutes ago. He accused Tish of getting him arrested.”
“How did he get out of jail?” The two were so wrapped up in their argument that they hadn’t noticed me.
I waited for Harriet to reply, but a gruff voice surprised me. “Gary finally gave us his alibi, and we didn’t have enough evidence to hold him,” Mac said from the door. “You have a knack for finding trouble, Clyde.”
“Oh, Detective McKenzie. Thank goodness you’re here,” said Harriet. Her adoring glance made it clear some people in town were glad Mac was back.
Gary and Tish had stopped arguing long enough to notice Mac at the door. Mac stomped over to them, his cane telegraphing his annoyance with aggressive thumps, and offered a choice of calming down versus taking the whole argument to the police station. I decided this was a good time to retreat. I wasn’t going to get any information out of Tish with her aura in an uproar. Maybe I could find out how Gary got out of jail while Mac was busy breaking up the fight.
“Hey, did Detective McKenzie find you?” Seth asked when I got to the car.
“Well, I saw him. Was he looking for me?”
“I think so. He stopped to pet Tuffy and asked where you were. I told him I thought you went into the Reading Room to talk to Tish. Sorry if it was supposed to be a secret.” Seth hung his head.
“No, it’s fine. Tish was . . . busy. Mac had some other things to do, so I didn’t really get to talk to him. Why don’t I bring you and Tuffy back home for lunch?”
*
I drove back to town after dropping Seth off at home. Tom was not at the police station, and Mac had gotten to Lisa. Despite my attempts at drawing out the story, she remained tight-lipped on the subject of Gary and how he had gotten out of jail. She was willing to tell me that Tom had gone a few blocks down the street to investigate a report of vagrancy at Millie’s Book Nook.
Headed that way, I hoped Tom would be finished before I got there. Millie’s was the “regular” bookstore in town. Besides Diana’s store, there was one other, but it only sold psychic and spiritualist titles. Millie’s sold all of the new releases in fiction and nonfiction and boasted a great selection of mysteries and biographies. Millie was at least ninety years old and was in a constant feud with her “good for nothing” third husband, Howard. They had been married for thirty years. He was only eighty, and according to Millie he didn’t pull his weight around the store. Millie had been my first employer—paying me to come after school and stock the shelves with new books. Most of my earnings were funneled directly back to the store to feed my fiction habit.
A small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk. I caught a glimpse of Tom in the middle of the throng. Knowing I would regret it, I walked right up to the small, wiry nonagenarian who was pushing Tom backward with the sheer force of her pointing finger.
“Now, Mrs. Fessler, Howard is not a vagrant. He says he fell asleep while doing inventory,” Tom said. He held his hands up as if she were pointing a gun and not a crooked digit at him.
“I want him arrested.” She poked Tom with her finger. He mouthed the word “ow” and rubbed his chest. Tom tried to take a step back and almost lost his footing on the steps of the store. While he struggled to keep his balance, Millie continued. “He’s a lazy fool, and now he’s sleeping on the job. If I found anyone else sleeping in my reading area, you’d come and cart them off to the lockup.” She glanced at the crowd, assessing the need for arrests.