Flash and Bang by J. Alan Hartman

Author:J. Alan Hartman [Hartman, J. Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: Untreed Reads
Published: 2015-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Rosie’s Choice

John M. Floyd

Rosie Cartwright was sipping coffee and knitting a blue sweater for her grandson when she heard the tinkle of the bell on the front door of the shop. The two men who pushed through the door and into the air-conditioning weren’t typical customers. Both were stiff and solemn, and looked uncomfortable in their dark blue blazers. (It was, after all, early July.) Mostly, though, they were unusual because they weren’t women. Notions Eleven attracted mostly female shoppers.

Once inside, the men seemed to avoid her gaze, pausing instead to examine the shelves and islands of knickknacks—at least that’s what Rosie called them—between the door and the counter where she sat. Rosie, who had put aside little Martin’s sweater and had already opened her mouth to say, “Can I help you,” shut it again and resumed her knitting. “Let browsers browse,” her daughter Nancy had instructed her.

Rosie could hear the POP-POP-POP of fireworks somewhere outside and down the street. Irritating but understandable—tomorrow was Independence Day. There were always a few people who liked to start celebrating early.

She took another swallow of coffee.

After a minute or so the older and shorter of the two men looked up and caught her eye. “Notions Eleven,” he said, nodding toward the big backward letters on the shop’s front window. “What’s it mean?”

Good question, Rosie thought. The store’s contents included everything from upscale glassware to tacky household ornaments—but they weren’t really “notions.” According to her dictionary, notions were items used in sewing—needles, buttons, pins, that kind of thing. Nancy had just liked the name. She had also liked that movie, Ocean’s Eleven. “You’d have to ask my daughter,” Rosie said. “It’s her shop.”

The short man frowned. He and his partner exchanged a glance. “You’re not Nancy Bartlett?”

“I’m Rosie Cartwright—her mother. If you came to see Nancy, she just left for lunch.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And left you, as they say, minding the store.”

“Tough duty,” Rosie said, holding up her knitting. “I suppose I’ll get used to it.”

The short man had picked up a tiny porcelain elephant and was examining it. “Used to it?”

“I’m new here. Just moved to town last week, from the East Coast.” Then, without really meaning to, she added, “I recently lost my husband.”

“Sorry to hear it.”

But his eyes, Rosie thought, didn’t look sorry at all. They didn’t look as if he cared one way or the other.

Outside, the distant fireworks popped and banged.

She glanced down at the gold watch on her wrist—the only thing she owned of any real value. Twelve twenty-eight. Nancy would be gone until one fifteen or so. “The truth is,” Rosie said, “my daughter doesn’t really need full-time help. Since you know her name, you probably know she’s only been open a month. But I’m part owner, and now that I live here, and I’m alone…well, I suppose I needed something to do.”

“Then maybe you need us as well. You and Nancy both.”

“What do you mean?”

Instead of replying, the short man said one word, over his shoulder,

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