Free To Helvetica and Back by Paige Shelton Page A

placed her mug on the table and leaned forward a little.
    â€œThere were numbers and letters scratched onto the sides of the bars”
    â€œReally? I don’t understand. Scratched onto the metal?”
    â€œYes. Someone used a sharp tool and scratched them onto the bars. You never saw them?”
    â€œNo. I’ve never looked at the sides of the key bars.” Mirabelle’s eyebrows came together. “You know, the older we get, the more we forget. I realize that’s not a big epiphany, but there it is. However, I am certain I never scratched anything onto the side—or any part—of the key bars. I’m pretty sure no one I know did either. I don’t have any memory of anyone doing such a thing.”
    â€œHave other people typed on it?”
    Mirabelle laughed. “Of course. My children and grandchildren have all played on it. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them came up with the idea, for whatever reason, but I don’t think so.”
    â€œWhere did you buy it?”
    Mirabelle closed her eyes and leaned her head back a little. “Gosh, Clare, I’m pretty sure I got it in Star City, but I can’t remember where exactly. There couldn’t have been many choices back then. Wait, there was an appliance store on Main. It’s long gone, but I think I might have gotten it there. It was a place that at one time, when I was a little girl, sold iceboxes and those washing machines with rollers. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
    â€œI think I’ve heard of the store.”
    Mirabelle bit her bottom lip. “That’s what I remember at this point, but I’m just not sure.”
    Main Street had seen every form of retail outlet over the years. Currently, to best cater to the resort tourist community it was mostly populated by a number of restaurants, a few bars, and lots of art stores. The buildingsthat housed the stores were all old, many of them with brick walls and iron-paned windows, charmingly left over from the mining town days.
    I ventured a small sip of coffee. It was hot but almost manageable. “Did I tell you what the guy who came into the store looked like? I mean, really looked like?”
    â€œYou said he had dark hair and wore leather.”
    I tried to give her a better description. I told her about his round face, that his dark hair was thick and straight, that the leather he wore seemed too tight for him. I also mentioned that his eyes were brown and unfriendly.
    â€œSound familiar at all?” I said.
    â€œI’m afraid not,” Mirabelle said. “But I’ll keep thinking about it. It was so strange that he wanted my typewriter and only my typewriter. Those carved numbers might have something to do with it. Do you remember what they were?”
    â€œSure.” I’d written them on a piece of paper. I pulled it out of my pocket and showed it to her.
    â€œI have no idea what they mean,” she said after a quick glance. “No idea at all.”
    â€œMe either. I didn’t tell Creighton about the numbers. I know that’s bad, but I thought I’d tell Jodie first. He was insulting her police skills.”
    Mirabelle smiled. “I’d do the same thing, particularly if I had your history with Creighton.”
    â€œWell, it’s a little childish, but I figure he’ll find the numbers or Jodie will tell him after I tell her.”
    My phone buzzed and jitterbugged across the table.
    â€œOh, speak of the devil. Excuse me, Mirabelle.” I picked up the phone. “Jodie?”
    â€œHey, you’re closed.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe Rescued Word is closed. You at home?”
    â€œNo, Mirabelle’s.”
    â€œI just heard from Creighton. He picked up the typewriter. He’s right, I should have taken it in. I’m not happy with myself, so I need to do something proactive. I’m heading out to the goat relocation group to have a look around. You