The Tender Silver Stars by Pamela Stockwell

Author:Pamela Stockwell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orange Hat Publishing
Published: 2024-04-03T19:49:28+00:00

25

Triss

Wednesday, November 15–Friday, November 17, 1972

On Wednesday, the brisk winds of a cold front chased away the rain and rippled the surface of leaf-lined puddles. The temperature dropped twenty degrees. Triss had little to do at work that week. Because it was the middle of the month, no renters came into the office. Her only visitor was Copper, who breezed in on Friday afternoon, bearing the duffel bag and a knowing grin. He knocked on Haine’s door, and Haine summoned him in, telling him to close the door. Which he did—almost. The latch did not hold, and the door remained ajar. Still on the lookout for information, Triss listened in. Weevil Carr was still behind on his payments, and Jenette Blazey had paid in full.

Haine took the duffel to the file room and came back out a few minutes later. He handed the duffel to Copper, and Copper left, giving Triss another skin-crawling nod.

As soon as the door closed behind him, she closed up the office, then stood in Haine’s doorway. “Do you need anything else, Mr. Haine?”

“No, that will be all, Patricia.”

After she turned, she rolled her eyes. Not even “Have a nice weekend” or “Thanks for typing that deposition.” She slid into her coat, grabbed her pocketbook and the weekly deposit, and headed out the back door into the leaf-scented wind. She clutched her collar to her throat to hold onto what warmth she could.

A voice cut through the darkness, making her jump.

“Howdy.”

The streetlamps cast just enough light for her to see Copper leaning against the front fender of her car, seemingly unbothered by the cold wind.

“I thought you left,” she said. Uneasiness crawled down her spine. For once, she would welcome Mr. Haine’s presence. She told herself if Copper had any information on her, he would have shared it with Mr. Haine already. He was fishing. So don’t bite.

“Yeah, well,” he drawled, peeling himself off the car. “I want a word with you.”

“I really have to get home,” Triss said, and reached for her door handle, but he stepped into her path.

“I won’t keep you long,” he said.

She made herself meet his steady gaze.

“What do you want?” she asked, jutting out her chin.

“I think you had something to do with the break-in a couple of weeks ago.”

“Why would you think that?”

“My gut says so. And my gut’s usually right. Mr. Haine don’t agree. But I’m watching you. And I’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

The wind that tugged at Triss’s coat hem had nothing to do with her blood turning to ice. “Do you know who my grandfather is?”

“Oh, I know. And I also know he cut you off. So maybe you’re desperate.”

She wondered how on earth he knew that but forced a laugh. “I like to earn my money the old-fashioned way. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

He stepped aside. “Be my guest,” he said with a mocking bow. “Y’all have a good evening. I’ll be seeing you.”

Triss climbed into her car and slammed the door, grateful for the barrier between them.

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