Free Rest Ye Murdered Gentlemen by Vicki Delany Page B

toys.
    â€œAnd,” the woman said to me, “they walked twenty miles to school. Uphill. Both ways.”
    As they left the shop, laden with parcels, the boy began demanding, in a piercing voice, ice cream.
    Crystal came out of the back room. “Mom’ll bring some things around later. She said that newspaper guy from England died last night. That’s awful. I was talking to him at the reception. What do you think happened, Merry?”
    Before I could answer, Jackie caught wind of our conversation and hurried over. “It’s such a shock. He was going to photograph me today. I can’t believe it. My big break gone. I mean . . . poor man.”
    â€œHe didn’t look at all healthy,” I said, repeating Alan’s suggested line. “Thin and pale.”
    â€œEnglish people all look like that,” said Jackie, who had never been out of New York State.
    â€œColin Firth doesn’t,” Crystal pointed out.
    â€œWho?” said Jackie.
    â€œWe do have customers,” I reminded my staff.
    At one minute to six, I was flipping the sign on the door to “Closed” when it almost hit me in the face. Kyle Lambertstrode in, head and shoulders flaked with snow. He was a big guy who hadn’t quite learned to control his arms and legs. Thinking of the proverbial bull in the china shop, I snatched up two wineglasses painted with delicate lines to represent red and green colored lights and clutched them to my chest.
    â€œReady, babe?” he said to Jackie.
    â€œI’ll be just a minute.” A few customers lingered, and Jackie was on the till.
    He turned to me with a smile. “Hope your boss lady pays overtime.”
    I held open the door. “Jackie will be out when she’s finished.”
    â€œI’ll wait,” he said.
    I wasn’t about to make a scene, so I flipped the lock without another word.
    Kyle wandered through the shop, looking not at all impressed by my display of merchandise. I let the last of the customers out. Crystal went to get her bag. Kyle spent a lot of time studying the jewelry display. He picked up a pair of earrings, delicate silver filigrees in the shape of snowmen. He held them up. “Do you like these, babe?”
    â€œSure do,” Jackie said. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
    â€œI’ll take them. You deserve something special.”
    She preened.
    Then he caught sight of the price tag. “Forty bucks!” His face fell.
    â€œThey’re handmade. Merry will ring them up while I powder my nose.” Jackie gave Kyle a hearty kiss on the lips and skipped off to the back.
    â€œYou don’t have to buy them if they’re too much,” I said to him.
    â€œI can afford it,” he said, almost choking on the words.
    â€œYou seem in a cheerful mood today, Kyle.”
    â€œGuess I am, at that.” He opened his wallet and carefully selected the exact amount. “Too bad about that magazine guy, eh?”
    â€œWhat about him?”
    â€œI hear he kicked the bucket. How sad.” Kyle made a wiping-away-tears gesture. Then he grinned. I knew his family. They were hard-working, well-meaning people, who had four boys and not a lot of money. Certainly nothing extra for luxuries such as dentistry. Kyle worked for a lawn maintenance company over the summer. In the winter he plowed driveways and made extra money helping out at hotels and restaurants over the busy Christmas season.
    â€œWhat do you know about that?” I asked, handing him the earrings, which I’d wrapped in tissue paper and slipped into a small bag.
    â€œMe? Nothing at all. Except good riddance.”
    â€œReady!” Jackie called. She’d freshened her makeup and combed her hair. “I’m absolutely starving. You have no idea what a slave driver that Merry is. I hope you’re taking me someplace nice for dinner, Kyle.”
    He handed her the shopping bag. “Sure am, babe.”
    I