Patterns in the Sand Read Online Free Page B

Esther became one of Izzy Chambers’ biggest fans.
     
     
“Izzy, dear,” Esther had said, her voice a hiss into the phone. “You need to run like a jackrabbit down to Harbor Road. There’s a dead body in the window of your shop, right next to that sumptuous pile of lovely organic cotton. Harry Garozzo saw it with his own eyes. Dead as a doornail, Isabel. Go now, before those clumsy police get in there and mess up your yarn. Go, Izzy.”
     
     
Izzy went, but not alone.
     
     
In a flash, Ben had his car keys out and ushered Nell and Izzy to his car and the four-minute drive down the hill to the Seaside Knitting Studio. The others stayed behind to clean the dishes, douse the remaining coals, and wait for news.
     
     
The police arrived at number 7 Harbor Road at the same time Ben’s CRV pulled up to the curb. The two young officers tumbled out of the car, hands on their pistol handles. Harry Garozzo stood near the curb, scratching his bald head with his thick baker’s fingers.
     
     
On the other side of the window, Purl, awakened by the racket, stood on all fours, staring at the scene unfolding on the sidewalk. She mewed loudly and arched her back.
     
     
Nell’s gaze immediately shifted to movement next to Purl. A young woman, small in stature, lifted her head, then tugged herself up to a seated position. The woman squinted against the bold glare of the flashlight, her hand shielding her eyes, and from the expression on her face, Nell suspected she had no idea where she was.
     
     
But the important thing, Nell thought, was that she was most definitely not dead—and surely incapable of extreme violence.
     
     
“Izzy, do you have your keys?” Nell asked, hurrying toward the door. The police, she knew, had faster ways of getting inside if they thought a robbery was in progress. There was no reason to damage the door.
     
     
“We’ll take care of it, Miz Endicott,” Tommy Porter said. “You just stand back—we have it under control.”
     
     
Izzy slipped a ring of keys from her bag and followed Nell to the door as Ben blocked the pathway.
     
     
“It’s all right, Tommy,” Ben said. “The gal doesn’t look dangerous. Let Izzy unlock the door, and we’ll see what’s up.”
     
     
“Is she a . . . a friend of Izzy’s?” Tommy asked. A lifelong crush on the shop owner made helping Izzy Chambers a priority in the young policeman’s life. A friend of Izzy’s would be a friend of his as well, burglar or not.
     
     
Ben shrugged. “We’ll find out, Tommy. But at least she’s not dead. That’s a good thing, eh?”
     
     
“Sure looked dead to me,” Harry Garozzo said from his stand at the curb. He clasped his hands in front of his ample belly, his legs spread apart. “I’d just closed up the deli and was on the way home when I spotted her. I knocked on the window once or twice but the body didn’t move. Looked dead, Ben. Sure did.”
     
     
Ben nodded. “Good of you to check, Harry. I appreciate you keeping an eye on Izzy’s shop.”
     
     
“Well, you can’t be too careful—that’s what I say. Summer folks can do crazy things.” Harry scratched his head again and yawned. “Looks like you have things under control. I’ll be getting myself home now. Saturday mornings start at four.” The deli owner gave a small nod to Ben and shuffled on down the street toward his home, a short walk away.
     
     
From the doorway, Nell motioned Ben inside. “I’m surprised we haven’t frightened this poor girl half to death,” she whispered.
     
     
Ben nodded. “Why don’t you help Izzy handle things here? I’ll call home and let them know the body is up and yawning.”
     
     
Behind Nell, Izzy had switched on a light and walked over to the window, moving the display stand to the side. Purl jumped out of the bay window and rubbed against Izzy’s bare legs, her summery skirt swirling around the cat’s head.
     
     
Following close behind the kitten, Willow slowly swung her legs to the floor and sat on the edge of the bay window, her eyes