Page 41 of A Seer and Present Danger

He wadded the bear and stuffed it into the corner of the window. “Gail—Mrs. Malloy—and I are friends enough. But we’re not friends. I have work to do.” He stomped over to the counter and turned on the computer there.

“So, about the donation?” I asked, trying to buy a little more time to snoop around.

“There is no donation! Can’t you see I’m trying to count inventory here?”

The door wailed, and Joanie Aster stepped into the shop. “Hi, good morning.”

Joanie was one of those effortlessly beautiful women. Her T-shirt was tucked in with a cute belt, and she wore a lightweight jacket and a baseball cap with the high school barnacle mascot on it.

“Joanie!” I said, “I’m sorry to hear about the fire.”

“Yeah, that was not great. Lost one unit, but I think I can rebuild the other. I’m just happy both of the units were empty.”

Kenny was pretending to be busy while he eavesdropped.

“Fire?” he asked casually, as if everyone in town didn’t know about the fire yet.

“Couple nights ago,” she said. “I’m just glad the fire department got there so quickly.”

“Do they know how it started?” Kenny asked.

“It wasn’t electrical,” Joanie said. “Could have been kids setting off fireworks too close. They did find an old gas can.”

Kenny started typing faster on the computer.

Was that guilty typing?

“But after the fire, we found this in the floor.” She walked over to the counter. “Kenny, do you know anything about old safes?”

He tipped his head and squinted at her. “Like in a bank?”

“No, like this.” She brushed her finger across her phone, showing him a picture.

Kenny was suddenly all business. “That was buried in the unit?” He didn’t sound surprised so much as impressed.

“Yep. I didn’t know it was under the floor. I guess there was a thin layer of concrete over the hole that failed in the fire. Can you tell how the door would have been opened before the safe became this melted mess of a lump?”

“Let me…” He took her phone and fiddled with the image.

I moved up beside her and took a peek.

“Steel. It could have been pried off, broken. Unless someone had the key or combination.”

“But the high heat wouldn’t have popped it off, right?” she asked.

“No.” He shook his head. “I say someone jimmied the door off, lock or no lock. What was in it?”

He glanced up from the phone and there was hunger in his eyes. I saw why he owned a pawn shop. He liked valuable things. He wanted them cheap, and he wanted to sell them high.

“I have no idea.” She pocketed her phone. “Whatever it is, it’s gone now.”

“Burned?” I asked.

“Or stolen,” she said. “Or maybe it was removed before I took over the business.”

Future possibilities fizzled and spun. I gripped the edge of the counter to keep myself firmly anchored in this reality, this now.

Bright, strong futures flooded my mind: