Read Online Old Maid's Puzzle by Terri Thayer - Free Book Online
Authors: Terri Thayer
Tags: Mystery
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here?"
"Vangie Estrada."
"Let me talk to her first."
I found Vangie out front, wrestling with fabric bolts. I sent her in, ignoring her obvious reluctance, and retreated to my office. I called Buster, but got only voice mail. I left him a message to call me, without filling him in. The wall between my office and the kitchen was thin. I didn't want Zorn to hear me talking about the murder.
I plopped myself in Vangie's chair. From here, I could see into the hall and watch who went from the class into the kitchen. I could also try to listen in on the interrogations.
I had a knack for eavesdropping. It started with having three brothers who didn't want their sister around. I'd learned at an early age that knowledge was power, and if that meant lurking in corners, I was okay with that.
Vangie finished with Zorn and stuck her head in. She looked surprised to see me at her desk, but didn't ask why. "I'm going to close the register. We'll be shutting down early, right?"
I nodded, then I remembered something. "Hey, did you take your brownies home?"
Vangie smiled. "Ate them," Vangie said.
I looked at her askance.
"I couldn't leave them lying around," she said. "There were only two. Small, and very mild."
"Do we need to talk about this?" I said.
"Under control, boss, always," she said. She disappeared from the doorway, humming "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" Smart ass.
I checked my phone to see if Buster had called back. Nothing. The laundry or the Giants game must be enthralling.
I could hear more police cars arrive in the parking lot. I could hear Vangie out front, dropping coins into the metal cash box. I could hear Ina talking about rotary cutters.
But I could hear only murmurings from the kitchen. Until it was Tim Shore's turn.
I felt the office shudder as he closed the kitchen door with a bang. I jumped out of my chair and leaned into the wall to hear him, his deep voice carrying easily.
"Officer, I want to know why you continue to hold us." He was unhappy.
I crept closer.
Zorn's voice rumbled. "I'm investigating a death, sir. I understand this is not how you expected to spend your night, but I can't really help that. Just answer a few questions, and you can be on your way.
The first question Zorn asked was why he'd arrived late. Shore's excuse was traffic, the one thing no one could dispute in Silicon Valley. He gave Zorn excruciating details of his drive over the hill from Santa Cruz. He'd left before four, but there was a fender bender at the summit, which slowed him down. He hated to be late and so was concentrating on nabbing the last spot in the parking lot and getting in to class. He'd been so distracted, he hadn't noticed anything in the alley.
A class he thought should continue tonight.
He pleaded with Zorn. "I paid my money, and I want to learn how to quilt."
I looked him up in the database on Vangie's computer while he talked. One of the joys of computerizing the store's files was that I had records of all the transactions going back several years.
I looked in the customer screens. Tim Shore, there he was. I moved over to his sales history. The class was his first purchase.
Zorn was slowly explaining to him the fine points of an investigation. I remembered I'd promised him a list of students. I clicked back to the class, and viewed the other names enrolled. Most of the beginning quilters were new to the store. Our future customers. Sure enough, I didn't recognize most of the names. I generated the report with names, addresses, and phone numbers.
A note on the class list caught my eye. Alice Quick was enrolled, but she hadn't paid. Damn. That was against store policy. Either you paid in advance, or you weren't put in the class. It just made sense. I couldn't have someone filling up a spot that a paying customer might have taken.
My stomach roiled. This was one of those new rules I'd established. In years past, classes hadn't filled up. My mother was okay with low enrollment, holding sessions with as few
"Vangie Estrada."
"Let me talk to her first."
I found Vangie out front, wrestling with fabric bolts. I sent her in, ignoring her obvious reluctance, and retreated to my office. I called Buster, but got only voice mail. I left him a message to call me, without filling him in. The wall between my office and the kitchen was thin. I didn't want Zorn to hear me talking about the murder.
I plopped myself in Vangie's chair. From here, I could see into the hall and watch who went from the class into the kitchen. I could also try to listen in on the interrogations.
I had a knack for eavesdropping. It started with having three brothers who didn't want their sister around. I'd learned at an early age that knowledge was power, and if that meant lurking in corners, I was okay with that.
Vangie finished with Zorn and stuck her head in. She looked surprised to see me at her desk, but didn't ask why. "I'm going to close the register. We'll be shutting down early, right?"
I nodded, then I remembered something. "Hey, did you take your brownies home?"
Vangie smiled. "Ate them," Vangie said.
I looked at her askance.
"I couldn't leave them lying around," she said. "There were only two. Small, and very mild."
"Do we need to talk about this?" I said.
"Under control, boss, always," she said. She disappeared from the doorway, humming "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" Smart ass.
I checked my phone to see if Buster had called back. Nothing. The laundry or the Giants game must be enthralling.
I could hear more police cars arrive in the parking lot. I could hear Vangie out front, dropping coins into the metal cash box. I could hear Ina talking about rotary cutters.
But I could hear only murmurings from the kitchen. Until it was Tim Shore's turn.
I felt the office shudder as he closed the kitchen door with a bang. I jumped out of my chair and leaned into the wall to hear him, his deep voice carrying easily.
"Officer, I want to know why you continue to hold us." He was unhappy.
I crept closer.
Zorn's voice rumbled. "I'm investigating a death, sir. I understand this is not how you expected to spend your night, but I can't really help that. Just answer a few questions, and you can be on your way.
The first question Zorn asked was why he'd arrived late. Shore's excuse was traffic, the one thing no one could dispute in Silicon Valley. He gave Zorn excruciating details of his drive over the hill from Santa Cruz. He'd left before four, but there was a fender bender at the summit, which slowed him down. He hated to be late and so was concentrating on nabbing the last spot in the parking lot and getting in to class. He'd been so distracted, he hadn't noticed anything in the alley.
A class he thought should continue tonight.
He pleaded with Zorn. "I paid my money, and I want to learn how to quilt."
I looked him up in the database on Vangie's computer while he talked. One of the joys of computerizing the store's files was that I had records of all the transactions going back several years.
I looked in the customer screens. Tim Shore, there he was. I moved over to his sales history. The class was his first purchase.
Zorn was slowly explaining to him the fine points of an investigation. I remembered I'd promised him a list of students. I clicked back to the class, and viewed the other names enrolled. Most of the beginning quilters were new to the store. Our future customers. Sure enough, I didn't recognize most of the names. I generated the report with names, addresses, and phone numbers.
A note on the class list caught my eye. Alice Quick was enrolled, but she hadn't paid. Damn. That was against store policy. Either you paid in advance, or you weren't put in the class. It just made sense. I couldn't have someone filling up a spot that a paying customer might have taken.
My stomach roiled. This was one of those new rules I'd established. In years past, classes hadn't filled up. My mother was okay with low enrollment, holding sessions with as few
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