Her mouth sagged open. Her eyes blinked rapidly. “Good grief. No wonder Hal gave you the contract. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. You and Jodi Wireka look an awful lot alike. In fact, you could be twins.”
“So I've recently discovered. May I?” I nodded at an empty chair.
“I guess.” She sniffed, but it might have been a post-crying sniff and not a nasty sort of gesture.
“I stopped by to apologize for inserting myself in the transaction. You see, I was worried about my grandfather, Dick Potter. Your late husband told me that Cooper planned to run Poppy out of business. As you might imagine, I wanted to protect my grandfather. The confusion about identities gave me a chance to do just that. I've since learned about the issue with the leaking gas tanks. I've talked to my grandfather, and I think we've come up with a compromise.”
“What sort of compromise?” She picked up an ink pen and fiddled with it. She had not accepted my apology, but at least she hadn't kicked me out of the office.
“My grandfather recently told me that the gas station is mine to do with as I will. I stopped by and spoke to Cooper Rivers before I came here. I offered him the Gas E Bait instead of The Treasure Chest.”
“Why not do the honorable thing and let him have The Treasure Chest? That's the building he really wants.” She glared at me, but I could tell she was considering my offer. Her mouth wasn't as tight, and her grip on the pen had relaxed.
“I have plans for that particular building.”
“That was fast.”
“I know. However, Cooper tells me that the Gas E Bait would also be acceptable to the franchise company. I know it'll be my responsibility to clear up problems with the leaking gas tanks. I'd be happy to swap one property for the other.” I paused. “I'd pay you to broker the deal. That would mean you’d earn your commission twice.”
Now I definitely had her attention.
“It wasn't all your fault,” she said softly, leaning back into her chair. “Hal should never have blabbed about Cooper's plans. Don't get me wrong. I loved my husband, but he was always sloppy. Always looking for the next big score, and never slowing down long enough to do his homework. Money didn't just burn a hole in his pocket, it lit an inferno.”
She reached for a tissue. Her face crumpled as she let out a ragged sob. “Hal was a jerk, but he was my jerk. Oh, Hal! Why'd you go and get yourself killed?”
CHAPTER 56
After Philomena regained her composure, we talked through my offer to swap properties. As it happened, there wasn't much of a price differential because Poppy's property was actually larger than I realized, while Essie's was on a smaller lot. We talked through other housekeeping items. She promised to get together the necessary paperwork and call me.
I reiterated that I was sorry for her loss, and for my part in making her life more complicated. My apology was sincere, and she accepted it. We left on a cordial note.
By the time I had returned to Essie's building, I'd almost managed to forget my awkward encounter with Cooper. At least, I managed to act as if nothing was bothering me.
MJ and Skye were both absorbed in their own projects. Skye was cleaning our existing light fixtures. MJ had filled a yellow legal pad with notes about buyers.
It was nearly dinner time. I suggested we knock off for the evening.
“Where are we? What progress have we made?” I asked as I sank into my office chair. I'd just taken Jack out for a piddle. He wriggled with joy as I settled him onto my lap. That little tail of his was wagging double-time. With those big eyes of his, he was a curious scamp.
“I've contacted two more customers who want items that we might be able to patch up and deliver,” said MJ. “Bobby is gluing one of the dressers back together. That will take care of one customer. The other wants a shell-covered mirror. We've got a mirror, but it's plain.”
“I can fix that,” said Skye. “No problem. I’ll make a trip to the beach and pick up the shells I’ll need. The fluorescent fixtures are all clean, and the old bulbs have been replaced. While I was working, I figured we needed some cute things that we could sell cheaply to bring people through the door. When I ran over to Pumpernickel's, I brought back these cans.”
Two plastic bags full of empty tin cans sat on the floor behind me. I failed to see why anyone would buy them, unless they wanted to recycle the metal. I guess my doubts showed up on my face.
“Trust me,” said Skye. “You'll be amazed at what we can do with these after I soak off the labels.”
“I glued that piece of furniture that needed it. Looked over the other stuff. I’ll need supplies from home to get it going. I've got most of the drywall nailed down and patched,” said Bobby, joining us. He leaned against the file cabinet and crossed his arms over his chest. “I've taped and slapped mud on the seams. Tomorrow I'll sand everything and give it a second coat.”
After I praised everyone for their hard work, we called it a day. MJ and Bobbie left together. Skye had made a food run while she was at Pumpernickel's, and my dinner was in the refrigerator. I sat down at Essie's desk and ate another Reuben sandwich, a small fresh fruit salad, and a pickle, while Skye soaked and peeled labels off the cans.
“Make sure you give me the receipt for the food so I can pay you back,” I said, and I told her about swapping out the buildings.
“You have such a good head for business,” she said. “I can tell I'm going to learn a lot from you. How's your grandfather?”
I explained that they'd need some time to stabilize his blood sugar and get the infection in his foot under control. Then I told her about Cooper offering him a job at the Fill Up and Go, and that got me thinking. “Skye? You seem to have a good idea of the sort of small items we might need to keep people walking in the door. You obviously have plans for those tin cans. How about if I give you petty cash to use? That way you can buy the supplies you need. Keep track of the receipts so we can be certain what our real expenses are. I’ll replenish the petty cash as you use it.”
Her eyes widened, and for a sec, I thought she'd burst into tears. Instead, she stood a little straighter and told me, “Thank you, Cara. You won't be disappointed.”
CHAPTER 57
The next morning Philomena phoned my cell phone at eight to say she would get the paperwork to me as soon as possible. She reminded me that she had a funeral to plan and attend, so things might take a while. I asked if she'd spoken with Cooper. She had. Everything was in process.
I ended the call feeling sad. Why hadn't Cooper called me?
I took Jack out the back and let him do his business. Although the U-shaped cast was awkward, he seemed to be adapting. While I wouldn't say he frolicked, he did manage to swagger around in a most amusing way. If his chest was puffed out with pride that he was mobile again. Seeing him looking so cute lifted my mood a little.
“Sorry that you have to go back in your box,” I told him as I lifted him and gave him a cuddle before carrying him back upstairs. “But I can't risk you getting underfoot. Think how hard it would be if you had two broken legs.”
I rapped on Skye's door and told her I was going to make a quick visit to the hospital.
When I arrived, my grandfather's nurse told me that they were still working to get his infection under control. She cautioned me that with his poor circulation, it could take a while.
“If we can't control it, he might lose several toes,” she explained. “This is serious.”
As a consequence, Poppy was grumpy, but when I told him I'd met with Cooper and Philomena, he sighed with relief. I gave him a kiss on the cheek, and promised to check back on him later.
After swinging through the drive-up window at a Dunkin' Donuts and grabbing an egg white flatbread sandwich, I pulled into my spot at The Treasure Chest. The back door was propped open, which immediately ticked me off. Hadn't we had enough of people marching in? I stalked inside, ready to fuss at the first person I encountered.
I stopped short because Detective Mu
rray was just inside the doorway, talking to Skye in low urgent tones.
“Cara?” her voice trembled. “You need to see this.”
I followed them through the shop, not sure I wanted to know about what I was about to see.
MJ and Bobby stood on either side of a walnut dresser staring at letters painted on the outside of our display windows. They'd been done with bright red spray paint. Bobby slapped a rubber-handled clamp against his palm as if he'd like to use it to punch someone. MJ's mouth flattened into a tight line of disgust as she glared at the offending message.
Although the lettering was reversed, I could make out the words written in red paint: Murderer! Killer! On the other side was the ever popular b-word that rhymes with “witch.”
I couldn't believe what we were seeing. “This happened overnight? While we were upstairs, sleeping?”
“Yes,” said Detective Murray. “You didn't notice it?”
“No. When I woke up, I took Jack out the back door, and then I went out the same way to run errands. I didn't even look at the windows. I was focused on what I needed to get done.”
Suddenly, my knees went weak. Fortunately, I wasn't far from a folding chair. I landed on it with an “oomph.” The sight of the ugly words brought back the public drubbing that I endured after I attacked Dom. He had milked his injuries for all they were worth, giving interview after interview with the local media. Packaging his story as a cautionary tale for young culinary school graduates, Dom railed against established restaurant owners who took advantage of their fledgling employees. Because Cara Mia's was so successful, and the world loves an underdog, people rallied behind Dominic.
Public sentiment against me became so heated, that as a family, we decided I should make myself scarce for a while. Only later would I learn that scrubbing away nasty graffiti had become a nearly daily task for my father.
These messy red letters brought it all back to me. Someone moaned, and I realized belatedly that noise had come from me.
“Cara? Are you okay?” Skye squatted so she was eye-level with me. “We'll get it cleaned up. It'll be good as new.”
I could feel my mouth trembling as I fought to gain my composure. I excused myself and went into the restroom. There I splashed cold water on my face.
“I'm all over this, Ms. Delgatto,” said Detective Murray when I came out. We stood by my desk. The others had gone back to their work to give us a bit of privacy. “Tell me about what happened yesterday. Maybe something triggered this mischief.”
I told him about Jodi Wireka's visit to the store. How I settled things with Poppy and then with Cooper. Eventually, I recapped my discussion with Philomena. “She called this morning, and she sounded pleased that things were moving right along.”
“Do you know of anyone with reason to be unhappy with you?”
“Um, Cooper Rivers and I talked yesterday and his fiancée Jodi sort of, well, walked in on us. We were kissing.” I felt my cheeks getting hot as I blushed at the memory.
“Got it,” said the detective in a nonchalant tone. “Just so you know I don't have a suspect yet for Mr. Humberger's killing. But we are making progress.”
An impatient bark floated down from upstairs, reminding me that Jack would need to go out soon. Detective Murray's eyes followed my tearful gaze. He rummaged in a pocket and pulled out a white cotton handkerchief. “I heard you adopted that dog that got tossed from the truck. Too bad he isn't a Doberman. I have no use for people who hurt animals. None.”
“I know!” Taking the offered handkerchief, I mopped my face. “I hope you catch him, and the person who killed Hal Humberger, and I hope it's soon. We're putting so much work into this place. All of us! Someone sneaking around and accusing me could ruin everything.”
Detective Murray clumsily patted my shoulder. “Yeah, those mud-covered numbers on the license plate is making it hard for us to find that jerk. But we’ll keep on it. As you can imagine, a murder investigation takes precedent.” He stopped and did glance around the store. “You know, this place is definitely coming around. Everything is going to be okay.”
I laughed softly. “Is that a promise?”
His brown eyes regarded me steadily. A half-grin lifted the corner of the detective's mouth. “Sure. Why not? Yes. That's a promise.”
CHAPTER 58
After getting my signature on an incident report, Detective Murray left. I ran upstairs, grabbed a grateful Jack and let him out. He hobbled over to a bush and tried to lift his leg, but the metal cast was too heavy. The little dude toppled over. I set him back on his feet. This time, he managed to pee successfully, showering a tiny lizard in a yellow rainstorm.
I’ve never owned a dog so small. Each time I picked him up, I realized what a tiny tyke he was. His bug eyes were bright and seemed to be happy for the company. Rather than taking him upstairs, I put him in a cardboard box on the sales floor. That way he wouldn't get underfoot but he could see and hear all the activity. Skye bounced over, as enthusiastic as a child with a secret.
Jack followed her with happy eyes. In a moment of exuberance, he stood on his hand legs and put both front feet against the side of the box. It promptly tipped over, with him in it. He tumbled out. His water dish rolled onto the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. Although Jack looked a bit dazed and confused, he shook off the moisture and began to bark happily.
“Oh, ho, ho,” I said, picking him up. “An escape artist. We need to get you a bigger box or a crate, little buddy.”
“He must be feeling better,” said Skye. “He's learned he can put pressure on his cast and stand on it. Isn't that cute?”
“Yes,” I said, cuddling Jack. “That's what we'll have to call you, Mr. Wet and Adorable.”
“We were working while you were checking on your grandfather,” said Skye, “and I can't wait to show you what MJ and I have gotten done!”
Carrying Jack in one arm, I followed her to the sales floor.
“Skye can go first,” MJ said. “By the way, Bobby is outside cleaning off the graffiti.”
“We couldn't let him tackle it until Lou stopped by,” explained Skye. “Otherwise, it would already be gone. Sorry that you had to see that.”
“I understand. You did the right thing. Detective Murray needed to get photos. Especially given what happened with Mr. Humberger.”
“Come on over here,” said Skye. She showed me how she had turned three of the spare drawers into display bins of varying heights by adding a turned spindle at each corner for legs. The finished bins were painted with a bluish-grayish paint. Skye had removed, polished, and then reattached the existing hardware. The effect was totally charming.
While the paint was drying on the bins, Skye had glued strips of burlap around empty glass jars of all sizes. “Another trash run to Pumpernickel's?” I asked.
“You betcha,” she said, showing me several of the finished jars. Her expertise obscured their humble origins. After securing the fringed burlap, she glued on clusters of seashells. Twine was wrapped around the mouth of the jars. Inside them she dropped a tiny battery-operated votive. The final product would sell like hotcakes.
MJ had been busy, too. Her report was delayed while she supervised two men who carried a large dresser toward the back door. I stepped out of their way.
“This piece is going to Mrs. Sarhadi on Jupiter Island. Look at the profit margin.” She handed me a sheet with neatly written figures on it.
I stared in amazement. If her figures were correct, the piece had been purchased for practically nothing shortly before Essie died. We were selling it for a nice amount.
“Bobby fixed the minor scratches and re-glued the drawers with a fast setting adhesive,” she explained. “Mrs. Sarhadi is actually getting a very good deal. We bought it right.”
“That’s terrific.”
She continued, “But the best part is how our new floor is coming along. I don't think you really stopped to look at it, because you were so upset.”
MJ was right. I'd
been distracted by the vandalism and paid no attention to all the progress being made all around me. On one side of the show room floor were large pallets stacked with the white wood-grained tiles I'd ordered. Half the floor had already been laid!
“Jimmy will be done in no time,” said MJ. “He can move fast, because there aren't any corners to round. This room is one big rectangle. After he lays the tiles, he'll slap down the grout. As he works, he's been consolidating stuff as much as possible. He seems to think that he can do most of the surface today.”
“Looks great.”
“Did you see what Skye did with the fluorescent fixtures?” asked MJ.
The new frosted patterns were dazzling. I could see how they would transform our current lighting by softening it.
“Now that you can see the progress we're making, we want to discuss a date for a grand opening,” said MJ, interrupting my appraisal. “Let's go to my desk so we can look at a calendar.”
I started to say, “Your desk?” because I thought she’d poached the old desk Essie left behind. She hadn’t. Skye and I followed MJ to her new “desk,” a door balanced on two low file cabinets. Somehow that smart cookie had also salvaged a broken lamp to illuminate her workspace. I smiled to myself. I loved how flexible my new friends were proving themselves to be.
“There's an Art Fair in downtown Stuart two weeks from now. I called Eddie, the guy in charge of special events, and he says he can still get us into the printed program, if you want.”
“While I'd love to generate some cash, I don't see how we can possibly get merchandise in time.” I stared at the date highlighted by MJ’s red fingernail.
“There's a huge flea market every Sunday in Stuart,” said Skye. “The locals know about it, but the snowbirds don't. We can buy bits and pieces to fill in. I bet folks would even sell us merchandise on consignment.”
“Tomorrow we could hit the resale and thrift shops in the area,” said MJ, looking to me. “A lot of them don't know what they have, or they don't have the tourist traffic to get top dollar. Essie and I always found one or two nice pieces that we could turn for a profit.”
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