Read Online Paper-Thin Alibi by Mary Ellen Hughes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Ellen Hughes
Tags: Mystery
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though.”
Ewing simply grunted, then glanced over toward Jo, who immediately focused on a dramatic shot of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. “Can you stay a few minutes?” he asked the cougher.
“Yeah, that’s why I came. Figured it might be time.”
Ewing bent down to a duffel bag at his feet and pulled out a small, black case. “You figured right,” he said, and quickly took off.
As Jo turned to watch, the woman who was standing in for him smiled at her. “Diabetic,” she said, apparently feeling Jo needed an explanation. “My gran had the same problem. Had to jab herself with needles every day. God, I’m glad I never came down with that, knock on wood. I can’t stand needles, can you?”
Jo smiled and shook her head. So Bill Ewing was proficient with hypodermics, she thought as she looked toward where he had walked off. She doubted the fine needles used for insulin could handle peanut paste, but wondered about the coincidence. Thoughts of injections would occur quite naturally to a diabetic who handled such things every day, wouldn’t they? Plus, he might know where to find the proper size needle. But would he have also known of Linda’s allergy? That was still a major question.
Chapter 7
Jo hustled back to her booth to find Meg quietly manning it.
“Any problems?” Jo asked as she slipped behind the counter.
“No,” Meg said. She scrunched her nose. “But I only sold one pair of earrings for you.”
“That’s fine. You also kept my merchandise from turning into free samples, so along with giving me a much-needed break, you were a major help. Thanks so much, Meg.”
Meg gave a wan smile, causing Jo to realize that Meg’s sales skills were probably about the same level as Bill Ewing’s. “What kind of work do you do at the Abbot’s Kitchen?” she asked. Ruthie Conway, one of the owners, had always handled the front counter in a way that made every customer feel like a longtime friend. Jo couldn’t imagine Meg easily stepping into that spot.
“So far I’ve been helping Bert with the food prep—chopping and mixing—and I clean up out front too.”
Jo nodded. “As I mentioned before, I’ll probably see you a lot then, since I pop over there often at lunchtime for sandwiches.” She checked the time. “Oops! It’s almost two. If you want to catch that pottery demo you’d better get going.”
Meg picked up her things and after acknowledging more of Jo’s sincere thanks with a nod, took off. Once Jo settled herself and had a chance to look around she realized from the suddenly diminished number of shoppers that the pottery demo must have been a major draw. She decided this would be a good chance to discuss Bill Ewing with Gabe a bit more. When she wandered over, though, Gabe was busy straightening several of the wooden toys that had been rearranged in the process of showing them to shoppers, so Jo paused at his front counter to let him finish. Gabe had just glanced over and noticed she was there when Jo was addressed from behind.
“Mrs. McAllister?”
Jo turned to see a young deputy sheriff, who touched his hat politely.
“Sheriff Franklin would like to see you for a minute.”
Jo sighed and asked, “Now?” aware that she had repeated her response to the sheriff’s request of that morning and just as aware of the futility of it.
“I’ll watch your booth,” Gabe offered. “There won’t be much happening for at least another half hour.”
“Thanks, Gabe,” Jo said. She tossed him a rueful look, then followed the deputy back to Julian Honeycutt’s office, wondering what Sheriff Franklin needed to know that he hadn’t asked about before.
The deputy ushered her in, and the sheriff half rose in what Jo supposed was a gesture of welcome, though she felt less than happy to have been invited. She sat down, and he immediately got down to business.
“Mrs. McAllister.” He slipped on his half-moon glasses once more and Jo braced herself. “You said this
Ewing simply grunted, then glanced over toward Jo, who immediately focused on a dramatic shot of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. “Can you stay a few minutes?” he asked the cougher.
“Yeah, that’s why I came. Figured it might be time.”
Ewing bent down to a duffel bag at his feet and pulled out a small, black case. “You figured right,” he said, and quickly took off.
As Jo turned to watch, the woman who was standing in for him smiled at her. “Diabetic,” she said, apparently feeling Jo needed an explanation. “My gran had the same problem. Had to jab herself with needles every day. God, I’m glad I never came down with that, knock on wood. I can’t stand needles, can you?”
Jo smiled and shook her head. So Bill Ewing was proficient with hypodermics, she thought as she looked toward where he had walked off. She doubted the fine needles used for insulin could handle peanut paste, but wondered about the coincidence. Thoughts of injections would occur quite naturally to a diabetic who handled such things every day, wouldn’t they? Plus, he might know where to find the proper size needle. But would he have also known of Linda’s allergy? That was still a major question.
Chapter 7
Jo hustled back to her booth to find Meg quietly manning it.
“Any problems?” Jo asked as she slipped behind the counter.
“No,” Meg said. She scrunched her nose. “But I only sold one pair of earrings for you.”
“That’s fine. You also kept my merchandise from turning into free samples, so along with giving me a much-needed break, you were a major help. Thanks so much, Meg.”
Meg gave a wan smile, causing Jo to realize that Meg’s sales skills were probably about the same level as Bill Ewing’s. “What kind of work do you do at the Abbot’s Kitchen?” she asked. Ruthie Conway, one of the owners, had always handled the front counter in a way that made every customer feel like a longtime friend. Jo couldn’t imagine Meg easily stepping into that spot.
“So far I’ve been helping Bert with the food prep—chopping and mixing—and I clean up out front too.”
Jo nodded. “As I mentioned before, I’ll probably see you a lot then, since I pop over there often at lunchtime for sandwiches.” She checked the time. “Oops! It’s almost two. If you want to catch that pottery demo you’d better get going.”
Meg picked up her things and after acknowledging more of Jo’s sincere thanks with a nod, took off. Once Jo settled herself and had a chance to look around she realized from the suddenly diminished number of shoppers that the pottery demo must have been a major draw. She decided this would be a good chance to discuss Bill Ewing with Gabe a bit more. When she wandered over, though, Gabe was busy straightening several of the wooden toys that had been rearranged in the process of showing them to shoppers, so Jo paused at his front counter to let him finish. Gabe had just glanced over and noticed she was there when Jo was addressed from behind.
“Mrs. McAllister?”
Jo turned to see a young deputy sheriff, who touched his hat politely.
“Sheriff Franklin would like to see you for a minute.”
Jo sighed and asked, “Now?” aware that she had repeated her response to the sheriff’s request of that morning and just as aware of the futility of it.
“I’ll watch your booth,” Gabe offered. “There won’t be much happening for at least another half hour.”
“Thanks, Gabe,” Jo said. She tossed him a rueful look, then followed the deputy back to Julian Honeycutt’s office, wondering what Sheriff Franklin needed to know that he hadn’t asked about before.
The deputy ushered her in, and the sheriff half rose in what Jo supposed was a gesture of welcome, though she felt less than happy to have been invited. She sat down, and he immediately got down to business.
“Mrs. McAllister.” He slipped on his half-moon glasses once more and Jo braced herself. “You said this
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