She gave him a cold glance. “It’s not really any of your business, is it?”
“No. But I am a trained psychic investigator. I tend to be curious by nature.” Especially when it comes to you, he added silently. “Sorry. You’re right. Not my business. Moving right along—”
“Before.”
“What?”
“I found out that Wesley was married before our relationship progressed to the physical stage,” she said stiffly.
“Is he still married?”
“No. Evelyn mentioned several months ago that Wesley and his wife were divorced.”
“Was Lancaster here in Wilby two years ago when the deaths occurred?”
“Yes,” Gwen said. “He was here.”
“Now there’s been another death and Lancaster is here again.”
“I noticed that amazing coincidence, myself,” Gwen said. “Here we are. That’s the Wilby General Store. You can park in front. We’re in time. Luckily Buddy doesn’t close much before five-thirty.”
Six
Buddy Poole, proprietor of the Wilby General Store, leaned on the counter and peered at Gwen over the rims of gold-framed reading glasses.
“So, you took Evelyn’s cat, eh?” he said. “That’s mighty noble of you, but I’d better warn you up front Max is used to the expensive stuff. The high-end cat food, canned wild salmon and the good tuna fish. Evelyn always bought him the best—same brands that people eat. Gotta tell ya, my dogs don’t eat nearly as high on the hog as that cat.”
“He’s going to have to modify his gourmet tastes if he hangs around me,” Gwen said. “Buddy, I’d like you to meet Judson Coppersmith. He’s a friend of mine.”
“Nice to meet you,” Buddy said. He stuck out a big hand. “Welcome to Wilby. Sorry it’s such sad circumstances that bring you here.”
Judson shook hands across the counter. “Call me Judson.”
“You bet. Heard Gwen had a friend with her. You’re stayin’ over at the inn?”
“That’s right,” Gwen said. “Trisha has very kindly allowed me to keep Max in my room, but I need some cat litter and food for him. I don’t suppose you know anyone who might like a nice cat?”
“Nope. I’m a dog man, myself. Got a couple of Rottweilers that would probably view Max as a chew toy.”
The Wilby General Store had changed little in the two years that she had been away. The grocery aisles and the small fresh produce section occupied the left-hand side of the premises. Shelves and tables displaying the wares of the local artisans were arranged on the right.
Buddy Poole hadn’t changed, either, she thought. He was a sturdy, stocky man with a bushy gray beard and a receding hairline. He wore a plaid shirt and a pair of pants held up by red suspenders.
“Real shame about poor Evelyn,” Buddy said. He exhaled heavily and shook his head. “We’re all gonna miss her. She was a fixture here in Wilby.” He looked at Gwen. “Heard you were the one who found her body.”
“Word gets around fast,” Gwen said.
“In this town it does. Sorry it had to be you. I know the two of you were friends.”
“Thank you,” Gwen said. “About the cat food, I’ll go with the expensive stuff for now. I think Max has been traumatized enough. You know how cats are when you take them out of their territory.”
“Heard they don’t settle well into new surroundings,” Buddy said. “With dogs, it’s different. Long as they’re with their pack, they’re happy campers.” He bustled around the end of the counter. “You’ll be wanting the wild salmon, then. And fresh eggs. Evelyn always fed him eggs. Got a refrigerator in your room? If not, I’m sure Trisha would let you store a carton of eggs in her kitchen.”
“I’ve got one of those minibar refrigerators,” Gwen said. “There’s enough space for a half-size carton of eggs.”
“We’ll need a can opener, too,” Judson said, “and the cat litter.”
“Aisle three.” Buddy started back toward the counter with a couple of cans of salmon and the eggs.
Two people, clearly summer visitors, not locals, ambled into the store. The subtle draft created by the opening and closing of the front door sent a faint shiver of all-too-familiar music through the atmosphere. The melancholy sound iced the back of Gwen’s neck. She knew that from now on whenever she heard wind chimes, the image of Evelyn’s body lying on the carpet would drift like a ghost through her thoughts.
She saw that Judson was studying the small display of crystal wind chimes suspended from the ceiling.
“Sell a lot of those?” he asked Buddy.
“Sure do,” Buddy said. He set the cans of salmon on the counter. “Local lady named Louise Fuller makes ’em. Very popular with the tourists. Just about everyone around here has one of her little musical sculptures hanging on the front porch or somewhere inside the house. Couple of other craftspeople in Wilby make chimes, but no one makes ’em the way Louise does. The sound is unique. I sell a lot of ’em at the crafts fairs, too.”
“You’re still doing the crafts fair circuit?” Gwen asked.
“Oh, sure.” Buddy punched in numbers on the antique cash register. “I try to hit five or six a year. Lot of the craftspeople and artists here depend on the cash I bring back from those fairs. Nicole, the florist, looks after my dogs when I’m gone. You remember Nicole Hudson, Gwen?”
“I remember her,” Gwen said.
Buddy winced. “Sorry. Forgot that you and Nicole had some words after what happened out at the falls a couple of years ago.” He cleared his throat and looked up from the cash register. “Will that be all?”
“Yes,” Judson said. He fished out his wallet and put some cash on the counter.
“Wait,” Gwen said. “I was going to pay for those things.”
“We’ll settle up later,” Judson promised.
Buddy slipped the money into the till and handed back some change. He looked at Gwen above the rims of his glasses. “Don’t want to get personal, but people are saying that Oxley gave you a hard time because of what happened to Evelyn.”
“I think it’s safe to say that Chief Oxley would prefer that I leave town as soon as possible,” Gwen said. “And he’s not the only one. But it’s going to take a while to decide what to do with Evelyn’s house and her old lab.”