White Colander Crime Read Online Free

who was planning a store to hold much of her stock, as well as the gorgeous and stately antique furniture that would grace a more elegant home, like the Queen Anne they jointly owned. She ran a china-matching service out of her home in London, Ontario, a few miles inland from the lakes, but thought retail in Queensville would be a good extension and allow her to buy and sell even more. Her husband-to-be was another antique aficionado and loved old electronics, like Bakelite radios and vintage televisions, so the shop might sell those, too.
    Jaymie parked along the curb, set aside a stack of pamphlets to take on to the manor house and give to other vendors, and grabbed the heavy box, toting it awkwardly up the walk, past Jewel’s shop and back to Bill Waterman’s workshop, the size of a small barn, with a high rusty corrugated tin roof and barn wood walls. He had the big double sliding barn doors open as ventilation, and was bent over a paneled door on a sawhorse, painting pungent liquid stripper over it, the surface bubbling and crackling. He glanced up, saw her, and laid a sheet of plastic wrap over it, then grabbed a rag, wiping his hands swiftly.
    â€œJaymie, let me get that!” He was a big fellow, tall but slightly stooped, and with graying whiskers sprouting along his jaw and out of his ears. He usually wore overalls, but in deference to the frigidity of the weather, today wore a one-piece long-sleeved work coverall in dark blue over a thick sweater that peeked out of the top. His eyes were shrouded in wrinkles, but they were a bright winter-sky blue, and twinkled in the right light. He insisted on carrying the box for her and led her to an enclosed room, the warmest, driest part of his shop, where he stored his most valuable tools. Once inside, he set the box of pamphlets on a shelf, where it would stay for the duration of the Dickens Days festivities. He grabbed a spare key from a hook and handed it to her, saying, “I set this aside for you. Keep it safe. And don’t lose it! Only me, you and Jewel have a key, besides the spare. That way you can come get more pamphlets whenever you need them. You ordered more than this, I hope?”
    As she added the key to her key chain, she followed him back out and waited while he locked the big padlock on the inner door. “Actually, I didn’t. I guess if things go as well as we plan, we’ll need more. A thousand seemed like a lot at the time.”
    They moved to the front of the shed again, and then he carefully peeled the plastic off the door and began scraping the old dirty paint from the oak wood underneath. As toxic as the chemicals were, he didn’t don gloves. “I’d say we’ll need another five thousand. Don’t forget, the inn wants some, and every shop on Main Street, the Emporium, as well as ones to hand out. And a few places in Wolverhampton might take ’em, too.”
    â€œYou’re right,” she said, making a quick decision. “Better too many than not enough.” She pulled her cell phone, a gift Daniel gave her during their romance, out of her pocket and brought up Nan’s contact information. “It’s pricey, but if we want more we’ll have to order them now. Do you think five thousand?”
    â€œThat’ll do,” he said, grunting with the effort of scraping. “I’ll support you if Haskell gets tetchy,” he said, referring to Haskell Lockland, the heritage society president.
    She concentrated as she texted Nan, asked for confirmation, then clicked the phone off. She looked out at the village from his shop, a great vantage point on a slight rise. It had been transformed in the last week. The cottage shops were decked with cedar garlands and wreaths, wound with red-and-green plaid ribbon. At night twinkle lights winked and blinked from the garland depths and the branches of the small fir trees around the shops. The Queensville Emporium had been swathed in festive