“I didn’t think so. You’re capable of a lot of shady stuff, Jake Harper, but not murder, if I’m any judge.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Kendall, this is Rachel Gregory. Rachel, this is my friend, Kendall Wexler.”
“Nice to meet you,” they both said.
“She’s your partner in crime?”
“We didn’t commit any crimes,” Jake reiterated, then grimaced, probably when he remembered the incident in her shop with the police detective.
Kendall shuffled from behind the counter to turn the sign from “Open” to “Closed.”
As he locked the front door, Rachel looked around. Guitars, banjos and other musical instruments hung on the walls. Display cases were full of everything from laptop computers to sets of flatware, diamond rings and gold beads.
A case behind the counter held an assortment of firearms.
The man swung his gaze to Rachel and smiled. “Could be you hooked up with the wrong dude.”
“I don’t think so.”
“If I can’t persuade you to ditch him, what can I do you for?”
Jake answered. “We need a couple of guns.”
“Thought that might be it.” Kendall stepped aside so Jakecould join him behind the counter. They conferred for several minutes before Jake picked out two handguns, a small revolver for Rachel and a larger automatic for Jake.
Kendall brought out ammunition for each weapon, and the two men proceeded to give Rachel a short course in gun safety and operation. When they were finished, she put the revolver in her purse where it felt like a deadweight.
“Don’t go shooting any cops,” Kendall said.
“It’s not for cops.”
“If you say so.”
Jake hesitated for a moment, then said, “If any of them come by asking questions, say you haven’t seen us.”
“You got it,” Kendall answered, and he didn’t ask why they needed the firepower.
When they were back in the car, Jake said, “I wish you could have some actual target practice. But we’d have to drive out of the city, then back again.”
“I don’t like carrying a gun at all. Let’s hope I don’t have to shoot.”
“I feel better knowing we’re not walking into an unknown situation unarmed.”
A thought occurred to her, and she said, “Wait a minute. You didn’t pay him.”
“I don’t have to.”
“Because you’re holding something over him?”
“No. I’m part owner of the shop.”
She stared at him. “Part owner.”
He shrugged. “I go to a lot of estate sales. There are always things I pick up that are worth buying but don’t fit into my antique business. So I asked Kendall if he wanted to go in on a pawnshop with me.”
“Let me guess. You put up all of the money.”
He kept his gaze steady. “Does that matter?”
