An Angel for Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad

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СКАЧАТЬ on the counter. “Doesn’t that Henry ever dust anything in here? Decent folks wouldn’t shop here even if they had any extra money.”

      “Henry doesn’t notice the dust,” Matthew said. He wondered if Glory had noticed how dusty it was in the hardware store. Of course she’d noticed, he thought. He could see her frowning at the window beside her. It could use a good washing. He’d started to clean up Henry’s store now that the man was gone to his daughter’s in Florida for a long winter vacation, but Matthew had started in the back, in the stockroom.

      “Excuse me, Mrs. Hargrove,” Matthew said as he reached for his crutches. “I think I best get my bottle of window cleaner and—” Matthew nodded in the general direction of Glory.

      But before Matthew could stand, Glory came over to the counter.

      “I’d like to buy a brush,” Glory said. The hardware store looked as if it could use some business, and she assumed they had a fine-tip brush that could serve her uses. “Make that a dozen and a can of turpentine.”

      “Brushes are over there,” Matthew said, and started to rise. “Most of them are for real painting—I mean, not for artists, but there might be one or two small enough.”

      “You just sit back down,” Mrs. Hargrove said as Matthew fitted the crutches under his arms. “You aren’t in any shape to be fetching brushes.” Mrs. Hargrove walked toward the shelf and returned with a dozen paintbrushes. Glory put her platinum plastic card on the counter. “I assume you take credit cards.”

      “Some days that’s all we take,” Matthew said as he pulled out the credit card duplicator and picked up the phone for verification.

      Matthew punched in the numbers of Glory’s credit card. He didn’t want to admit it, but hers was the first platinum card he’d ever processed. Most people in Dry Creek thought they were rich if they qualified for the gold card. “Is there something different about a platinum card?”

      “Different?”

      “Your numbers aren’t taking,” Matthew said as he punched another number to speak to an operator. “Maybe I’m doing something wrong.”

      “Oh.” Matthew’s frown had grown deeper as the operator on the other end spoke.

      Matthew hung up the phone. “Your card’s been canceled.”

      “Canceled? How could it be canceled?”

      “It seems you’re, ah, dead.”

      “Dead! But that’s ridiculous. I mean—how?”

      “They didn’t say how it happened,” Matthew offered. He didn’t want to think of the implications of Glory trying to run a fraudulent card through his system.

      “There’s no ‘how’ to it,” Glory snapped. “It hasn’t happened. I’m perfectly healthy, as anyone can see.”

      “Perfectly,” Matthew agreed. She did look healthy, especially with the indignant flush on her cheeks. Maybe she’d simply missed a payment or two and that was the reason they were canceling her card.

      “Can I use your phone?” Glory finally said. She’d call the captain. He’d said he’d take in her mail while she was gone. He could solve the mystery. “Collect, of course.”

      Matthew handed her the phone, and Glory turned her back slightly to make the call.

      “Thank God you called,” the captain said when he heard her voice. “I was worried.”

      “I just called two days ago,” Glory protested. “I’m fine, except for my credit card.”

      “Ah, yes. I canceled your card. Not as easy as you’d think. I had to claim official business and tell them you’d died.”

      “You what?” Glory protested and then, remembering her audience, turned to give a reassuring smile to Matthew and Mrs. Hargrove. She didn’t want them to think she was broke, let alone dead. She turned her back to them.

      “Someone jimmied your mailbox yesterday,” the captain said. “Took your credit card bill.”

      “The bill—they can have it.”

      “With the bill, someone can trace you,” the captain pointed out patiently. “Find out what hotels you’re staying at. Where you’re buying gas. It’s not that hard. Someone real sophisticated will find a way to get your charges the same day you make them. By now, they probably know what state you’re in. Remember that shot. First the shooting at the grocery store and then that shot coming the next day so close to you. I don’t like it. Not with someone taking your credit card bill.”

      “Surely you don’t think—” Glory sputtered. “Thank goodness I haven’t used the card since Spokane. But I can’t believe—It was probably just some kids breaking in.”

      “They didn’t break in to the other mailboxes in your building.”

      “Maybe they got tired. Thought of something better to do.”

      The captain was silent. “Maybe. Then I keep wondering if something wasn’t fishy about that shooting at Benson’s. Could be more was happening than you’ve remembered.”

      “Just the butcher standing by the meat counter. Had a package of steaks in one hand and the time card of one of his assistants in the other.”

      “We checked the name on the time card. The clerk didn’t have a dispute.”

      “Least, not one they’re talking about,” Glory added.

      “No extra keys on him, either,” the captain continued. “If it was a robbery, there was no reason to shoot the man. He wasn’t holding anything back.”

      “But if it was a robbery, why wait to make the hit when the armored transport had just made the pickup to go to the bank?”

      “Ignorance?”

      “Yeah, and anyone that ignorant wouldn’t think to trace a credit card.” Glory pushed back the prickles that were teasing the base of her spine. The captain was paranoid. He had to be. She hadn’t been the only one at Benson’s. She’d already told the police everything she knew. Besides, the bullet that had gone whizzing by a day later was gang related. The department was sure of that.

      “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll go ahead and call the credit card company.”

      “Good.” Glory took a deep breath. “When can I use the card?”

      “Ten days. Takes them that long to verify,” the captain said hesitantly. “I’ll wire you some money. Your mom and I are heading off for that trip we told you about, but we’ll drop it on our way. Tell me where you are.”

      “Dry Creek, Montana,” Glory said. She looked over her shoulder. Matthew and Mrs. Hargrove were trying to look inconspicuous, a sure sign they’d overheard everything.

      “Trouble?” Matthew said sympathetically as Glory hung up the phone and turned around. He could see she was embarrassed. “Don’t worry about the brushes. Henry runs tabs for people all the time. СКАЧАТЬ