Still thinking about my conversation with Keith, I looked up when Mason arrived. He whistled a happy tune and seemed more relaxed than I’d seen him since we first met.
“What’s got you in such a fine mood this afternoon?” I already knew but wanted to give him a chance to tell his good news.
“I’ve been officially let off the hook about Paul’s murder. They found evidence that couldn’t possibly have anything to do with me, so they let me go. No trial, I get my bail money back, and I’m free as a bird.” To illustrate his point, he jumped into the air and flapped his arms.
I laughed at his antics. “I heard about the fingerprints.”
“Who told you?” He stopped midflap.
“Let’s say it was a different little birdie than you.” The memory of Keith’s gentleness sparked a warmth in my chest. I had to keep his confidence. I couldn’t get him into trouble for his honesty.
“Well, they almost kept me,” he said. “That stupid Detective Sutter was determined to pin it on me because of the sleeping medication connection. I’m just glad the second murder was different. He tried to connect me to the hydrangea too, saying I could buy them. But so could anyone, so he let me go.”
“Hydrangea?” I poured a fortifying cup of coffee and sat on a stool behind the counter.
“Yeah, it seems old Norman was poisoned with hydrangea flower petals baked up in blackberry cobbler. Apparently they’re deadly.” Mason walked to the coffee table and picked up a Styrofoam cup.
“Wait. I thought the fingerprints were the same on the plates at both murders. Are they now thinking it wasn’t the same person after all?” Should I be worried about two killers coming after me instead of only one?
Mason grinned. “Confusing, I know. They think it was the same person who poisoned both of them, but with different things. I guess the killer ran out of sleeping pills.”
“Hmm. Could be. But how would he know about hydrangea? That’s not exactly common knowledge.” I sipped my coffee, letting the hot liquid burn down my throat. I grimaced at the flat taste. The coffee hadn’t been too bad at first, but the longer the old can of Folgers was open, the more stale it tasted in the pot. I made a mental note to add fresh coffee to the grocery list. No telling how long that old can had been hiding in the back room before we found it.
“You can research anything on the internet if you know how and where to look.” Mason turned and leaned his elbows on the counter. “It’s the only thing that really makes any sense. Maybe he didn’t have a whole lot of money to waste on medications, so he wanted to use something else the second time.” Mason was silent for a second. “Or maybe he didn’t want anyone noticing he’d refilled his prescription too soon.”
“I hope the police figure it out.” Pouring coffee into my Styrofoam cup, I added real mugs to my list so we could have more than a few sips at a time.
“Me too,” agreed Mason. “But either way, I’m glad it lets me off the hook.”
“Will you go back home now?” I turned and leaned on the counter.
Mason’s head ducked and his shoulders slumped. He had apparently been going over and over the same things in his own mind, because the words gushed out. “I guess I should. I mean, I’ve got a job there, an apartment, a few new friends. Granted, the job’s nothing great. Oh, sure, I bragged about it to everyone here, but that was when I felt I had to impress everyone with how well I was doing without any help. But if you want to know the truth, I’m a janitor for an office complex. I’m barely making minimum wage cleaning up other people’s messes. But here, I guess nobody would ever hire me. There will always be someone who thinks I might steal again. You know how it would go. Mr. Owner drops a twenty without realizing it and kicks it under the counter, and the next thing I know I’m out on my ear, or worse, arrested for stealing. Who would believe I didn’t do it? I can’t say I’d blame them, but still, it’s not very fair.” Mason flopped down in the chair by the counter and raked his hands through his hair.
“You’d really like to come back to Hokes Folly, wouldn’t you?” I knew the answer, but Mason needed to finish this argument he’d begun with himself, and I let him do so.
Although he hesitated, it was easy to see he was talking more to himself than to anyone else. “I’d like to come back, but I don’t know if people would accept me. And where would I stay? I can’t keep mooching off of folks indefinitely. I’d have to get a place of my own. But with what money? Everything I’ve made has gone toward a car payment on the junker I drive, rent for a dumpy apartment, cheap food, and gas money to get back and forth to work. I have no savings of any kind. I looked around here and found a cheap studio apartment close by, but how would I pay first and last month’s rent or utility deposits?
“If I lived close enough, I guess I could sell the car, but who would buy it? I only bought it because it was the cheapest thing I could find that was still drivable. Maybe someone else would be as desperate for wheels as I was when I bought that lemon, but what if they weren’t? Then what? I’ll tell you what. I’d be stuck with a car I couldn’t afford to put gas in. I’d have no job, no place to stay, and would end up living in some cardboard box or at the mission downtown. Maybe I could sleep in the car. At least then it would be good for something.” He crossed his arms on the counter and rested his forehead on them, sighing deeply.
My motherly instincts, such as they were, shoved their way to the forefront. I’d been where this kid was not too long ago. Knowing how frightening it was to realize you had nothing, I reached out a hand and squeezed his shoulder to get his attention. “Might I suggest a viable option before you start looking at your future real estate out back by the cardboard recycling bin?”
Mason raised his head. His sad eyes and solemn face reminded me of a lost puppy, and I resisted the impulse to pat him on the head or scratch him behind the ears.
I did a bit of quick mental math. “I’ve been thinking I could use some help around here on a more permanent basis.”
Mason jumped up and whooped with delight. “You mean you would let me keep working here? Really? You’d trust me that much?” He grabbed me in a big hug and nearly squeezed my breath away.
I managed to disengage myself from his exuberant embrace, rubbing my sides and chuckling. Guess I wasn’t the only one prone to random hugging. “You shouldn’t agree until you’ve heard the entire offer. You might not want to stay after you’ve listened to the whole thing.”
“I don’t think anything you could suggest would make me say no.” Mason looked like he was about to hug me again.
I stepped around the counter to protect my ribs. “As a part of your job description, you’ll work full-time on an ongoing basis, but you’ll need to be here extra hours until we can get a handle on not only this front room, but also the inventory in the back. You’ll need to assist with pricing decisions, so you’ll need to start educating yourself on antique books.”
Mason’s jaw dropped, and out of his open mouth came another whoop of delight. Suddenly sobering, he said, “I guess I can talk my friends into a couple more months on couches until I can save enough for deposits and all.”
“Oh, did I forget to mention the relocation bonus?”
A crease crossed his brow. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll manage.”
I nudged him on the shoulder. “Stop it. Uncle Paul would have wanted me to take care of this for you.” After all, I had a nice nest egg now, and I knew Uncle Paul would have agreed this was a worthy cause.
Mason blinked a few times and cleared his throat before standing and straightening his shoulders. “I’ll do a good job for you, Jenna, I swear. After the next few weeks, you’ll realize you can’t do without me. I’ll be the best employee you could ever wish for. You’ll never have to hire anyone else again as long as you live. You’ll see.” And with that pronouncement, Mason went back to whistling the happy tune he’d been whistling when he came through the front door. Marching up the aisle, he tackled the book stacks with renewed enthusiasm.
I watched him for a few minutes, amazed and somewhat envious that he could change his outlook so drastically in such a short time. I pitched in, and we worked efficiently for a while before the phone rang.
“Baxter’s Book Emporium.” I really needed to come up with a better name. Maybe I could hold a contest. Ten free books to the winner.
“Hello, Jenna,” came Horace Grimes’s mellow voice. “I received a call from a Detective Sutter. Is there something I should know?”
“Oh no!” I cringed. “I am so sorry. I forgot to call and ask if you take on criminal cases. It’s been a rough twenty-four hours.”
“It’s all right. I don’t normally practice criminal law, but I think I can help you temporarily until you find an attorney who does.”
“Thank you so much.” Mental list item number … however many: add Horace Grimes to my Christmas list. “What did Sutter want?”
“He wanted us to meet him downtown. He said he had some questions for you. However, I don’t have time for a downtown junket right now. I told him if he would like to speak to my client, he could meet us both here at three thirty.”
I looked at my watch, and my stomach sank. “That’s in ten minutes!”
“Yes, it is. Can you make it?” he asked.
“I’ll be there.” I hung up, snatched my purse, and rushed out the door, calling out to Mason as I left, “I’ve got to go for a while. I should be back before closing.”