you no shame?
I suppose you think we’re country hicks, too dumb to see through your little story.
I won’t be buying so much as a spool of thread at your shop again, and I hope every other woman in this county feels the same.
Plenty of people had been neutral, promising to let her know if the credit card had been run or check cashed. Perhaps half had promised to replace the money. A very small minority had been, like Louise Alsobrook, really nice.
Of course, it was what the nasty people said that was stuck in her head.
Nadia tried with the “sticks and stones may break my bones” thing, but still felt like an old woman when she opened the store come morning. Thank heavens she didn’t have to teach a class today! She hoped makeup, applied more heavily than usual, disguised some of the signs of her exhaustion, especially the purple bruising beneath her eyes. The fact that her eyes appeared sunken...well, there wasn’t anything she could do about that. Plus, her head ached, blinking almost took more effort than she could summon and she wasn’t sure the muscles that would allow her to smile were functioning.
But this was the one day of the week she had no help, and the sign out front listed open hours that included Mondays, ten to five. If anything of her new life was to be saved, she couldn’t hide in her apartment.
Mondays were the slowest days, businesswise, so she wasn’t surprised, and was almost relieved, that no one at all came in to browse until after eleven. Then it was a husband and wife she pegged immediately as tourists. They exclaimed over the displayed quilts, gasped at the prices and bought a set of machine-quilted place mats.
Her next visitor was Colleen Hoefling, who wanted to hear what, if anything, the police had learned, and who purchased fabric for her next quilt, or so she said. Nadia suspected Colleen, like most serious quilters, already owned enough fabric for her next ten or twenty quilts. She was simply being nice.
Colleen also shooed Nadia upstairs to get some lunch, insisting she knew how to use a cash register.
After eating, Nadia came down to the sound of voices.
The first was scathing. “And who do you think stole the money if it wasn’t her?”
“I don’t know,” Colleen said, hers distinctly cool, “but I’m appalled at the rush to judgment I’m seeing. Nadia has been nothing but friendly. She’s warm and likable. Do you have any idea how much time she gave to make the auction a success? I’m not sure it would have happened at all without her.” She talked right over the other woman, whose voice Nadia had recognized. Peggy Montgomery, whose consigned quilt was currently starring in the front window display. “What’s more, Nadia is a fine businesswoman with a good eye for color. With the way she’s selling our quilts online, she’s giving all of us opportunities we haven’t had.”
“And making a sizable commission.”
“This is her business. I, for one, am a terrible saleswoman.”
Continuing to lurk out here made her a coward. Nadia girded herself and entered the store.
“Peggy,” she said with a smile that probably looked ghastly, but was the best she could do, “how nice to see you. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Thank you, but no,” she said stiffly. “I just wanted a word with Colleen.” She turned and strode out the door.
Nadia waited until it closed behind her before she turned to Colleen. “I expected more people like her today.” She wrinkled her nose. “What am I saying? I’m nowhere near halfway through the day. There’s plenty of time.”
“You heard her?”
This smile felt genuine. “And you. Thank you for the defense.”
Colleen shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with everyone. Peggy is a good example. She’s a nice woman. This wasn’t like her.”
“I’m the newcomer. The outsider.” Nadia had figured out that much Saturday. “Painting me evil is better than imagining someone you’ve known all your life stealing money that would have helped struggling people hold onto their land or rebuild.”
The other woman sniffed. “I’ve lived around here all my life, and I have no trouble imagining a few of my neighbors feeling justified in doing whatever they pleased.”
Nadia was laughing when the bell on the front door clanged. She turned to meet a pair of very dark eyes. Ben Slater wore his uniform today, a badge on his chest and his holstered gun at his hip. The visible weapon had the usual effect.
Her laugh had already died before she saw his stone face. “Chief Slater.”
He bent his head. “Ms. Markovic. Mrs. Hoefling.”
“I’m happy to stay a little longer, if you need to speak to Nadia,” Colleen offered.
“That would be helpful,” he said. “Perhaps we could go upstairs, Ms. Markovic?”
As chilled as she was by the expressionless way he was looking at her, Nadia didn’t see that she had any choice. She thanked Colleen and led the police chief through the side door. She sidled by the chair she’d left at the foot of the stairs, since she had every intention of bracing it in place again tonight—and every night, for the foreseeable future. She didn’t look back to see what Ben Slater thought about her primitive defense.
In the small living room, she faced him, chin high. She couldn’t make herself ask how she could help him. Hating her awareness of him, she just waited.
“I’m here to ask if you would permit a full search of this building without my getting a warrant first.”
“I feel sure you wouldn’t have any trouble getting one,” she said bitterly. “Given the local consensus on my guilt.”
Something flickered in his eyes, but he said only, “You must realize this is something I need to do.”
Nadia crossed her arms. “Shouldn’t you have done it Saturday? Over the weekend, I could have taken the money box anyplace.”
He didn’t say a word. His expression stayed impassive. She stared at him, understanding embarrassingly slow to come.
“You’ve had me watched. Did somebody follow me Saturday?”
“I’m doing my job.”
Air rushed out in what felt too much like a sob, but she clung to her dignity—and her anger and despair. “Do you know what it will do to my business once word gets out that the police suspect me to the point of searching my premises?”
“The sooner we can clear you,” he said woodenly, “the sooner your reputation will be restored.”
Her laugh was caustic. “What a nice, positive spin! I suppose practice makes perfect. I guess all that experience is why they made you chief.”
The only satisfaction he gave her was the tightening of his jaw muscles and some tension at the corners of his eyes.
“When do you plan to do this search?”
