Zukie's Witness (Zukie Merlino Mysteries, #2) by Cynthia E. Hurst

Author:Cynthia E. Hurst
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zukie Merlino Mysteries, Seattle, cozy mystery, Pacific Northwest, Italian-American
Publisher: Plane View Books
Published: 2014-04-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Mulling over her new information, sparse as it was, Zukie drove slowly toward the supermarket. She had some genuine shopping to do, and she felt that for the time being, she’d spent enough time in Colonna’s. There was no point in tempting fate, and she wanted more evidence in hand before she started poking around the deli again. And given her experiences of the last three days, she doubted she’d be missed as either an employee or a customer.

She left the auburn wig in the car and headed for the store’s fruit and vegetable department, where for once, she didn’t pick a fight with the produce manager. He registered the fact with some concern.

“You all right, Mrs M?” he asked her, as she rummaged through the ripe avocados, squeezing each one lightly. He winced, hoping she wasn’t bruising them too badly.

“Sure. Why?” She picked out two that met her criteria and added them to her cart, along with a bag of mushrooms and an onion.

“No particular reason. I just wondered. You have a nice day, now.”

Zukie nodded absently and continued along the supermarket aisles as the produce manager scurried away. She picked up various items and placed them in the cart, her mind far from the mundane reality of buying paper towels, toothpaste and milk. Finally she turned into the bakery section, thinking she might grab a couple of maple bars for her and Lou to have with coffee later.

That took her mind back to Tex Barrett, and she wondered how he was getting along in school and with his foster parents. She supposed someone would arrange for him to have counseling to deal with his mother’s violent death. That was the way it always was these days; everything was turned over to counselors instead of just using common sense and letting tears and time heal emotional wounds. If anyone had suggested she see a counselor to deal with her grief after Eddie’s death, she would have belted them one. How she dealt with life’s setbacks was no one’s business but her own.

She put two maple bars in a paper bakery bag and placed it in the cart. Then she stopped in front of the bread shelves, thinking. The smell of the fresh bread had triggered something in her memory, but she had no idea what. It wasn’t the man who had clamped his hand over her mouth at Colonna’s; that was too recent and obvious a memory. No, this was something more obscure and more distant, but still something to do with bread.

She stood in the middle of the aisle, oblivious to other shoppers trying to get their carts past her. Finally, someone said loudly, “Excuse me, ma’am, you’re blocking the aisle,” and she came to her senses.

“Sorry,” she said, moving to one side. “Damn it, what was it, anyway?”

People eyed her suspiciously and she supposed she was beginning to look like one of those unfortunate souls who babbled to themselves on street corners. Heaving a sigh, she

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