Read Online Ed Lynskey - Isabel and Alma Trumbo 02 - The Cashmere Shroud by Ed Lynskey - Free Book Online Page B

use whenever Petey Samson scratched at the front door at night. Alma asked for Sammi Jo’s opinion.
    “If you expect Blaine to be willing to take our questions, he’ll want you to buy something expensive,” she replied. “Like the two lanterns.”
    “Did you know Ray Burl bought a shotgun here last winter?” asked Alma. “Corina from across the street said she saw him exiting from here with one.”
    Sammi Jo was left dumbfounded. “I had no idea. He never mentioned it to me if he did. I’ve got to wonder about that because he’d no liking to hunt or shoot.”
    “M aybe it was for his personal protection if he felt threatened or vulnerable,” said Alma.
    “ Like I said before, as far as I know, he didn’t have any enemies,” said Sammi Jo. “Wouldn’t a handgun be a better self-defense weapon?”
    “He could use a sharp hacksaw and crop off the shotgun ’s steel barrel,” said Isabel. “The unsavory elements are apt to do that in the hardboiled mysteries we like to read on occasion.”
    Alma nodded once. “The sawed off shotgun also instills boatloads of fear in any character staring straight down into one’s bore dark as the black hole of Calcutta.”
    “I can imagine how it does,” said Sammi Jo, never a fan of firearms. “Pick up three lanterns, one also for me. I’m down to using a penlight’s wimpy beam to fumble my way around my dark apartment after the current flickers off.”
    “Three brand new lanterns are coming right up,” said Alma.
    She removed the lanterns off the display shelf, and with Sammi Jo’s assistance, carried them to the back of the store to set on the waist-high counter.
    The cash register occupied the corner, but there was no sign of Blaine. The odors they smelled were a hardware store’s smorgasbord of paint thinner, plant fertilizer, and motor oil.
    Sammi Jo jabbed her finger tip on an identified black button that produced a rusty buzz in the backroom.
    They waited.
    Nothing.
    Sammi Jo glanced at Isabel.
    “Just lean on the button, dear, until it wakes up Blaine,” she said. “He installed it because he’s prone to take catnaps during the slow times.”
    “ Owning the store has its privileges,” said Sammi Jo.
    “For Blaine, he comes by it honestly,” said Alma. “His grandfather and father took the same lackadaisical bent.”
    “He better dial it up a notch, or Home Depot will run him out of business,” said Sammi Jo. “It happens all the time.”
    “ Evidently he doesn’t keep abreast of the business trends,” said Isabel. “Shush. I can hear him prowling around.”
    Sammi Jo let up her finger pressure engaging the button, and the obnoxious buzzer fell quiet. She gave Isabel a thumbs up as Blaine, half-dazed and tousled, entered from a doorway at the far end behind the counter. He’d stacked on ten pounds to his short frame since the last time Sammi Jo had seen him. He lumbered sloth-like down the counter until he faced them with a solicitous smile.
    “ I’ve been going over my inventory list,” he lied. “But I can always use a break from doing my paperwork. May I be of assistance to you, ladies?”
    The nearest lady to the counter, Sammi Jo handled the transactions for the lanterns and information gathering.
    “ Ring us up these three items,” said Sammi Jo, nudging the lanterns at Blaine. “Before you ask, yes, we’d like them bagged. Paper, not plastic, too.”
    Elated to be tossing some money in his till, Blaine punched up the purchases on the cash register despite the bar codes included on their price stickers. “Such a calamity about your dad, Sammi Jo. He will be truly missed I can tell you without reservation.”
    “Yeah, I know the turf farm keeps a big account with your store,” said Sammi Jo. “But thanks for your condolences just the same.”
    “ He bought more stuff here than just for the turf farm,” said Blaine. “Matter of fact, he paid for a Mossberg pump 12-gauge shotgun earlier this year.”
    Sammi Jo capitalized