Free Paint the Town Dead by Nancy Haddock

blank. It was close enough to the workroom door that I hadn’t seen the need to aim a camera there.
    For fifteen minutes, we skimmed the recordings to watch the general movements of the audience members. First I ran the loops at normal speed, then fast-forwarded when I realized I could conclude little to nothing from the footage. No one appeared to behave furtively. No one appeared to have concealed a tool or anything else on his or her person. No one appeared to scream “suspect here.”
    I put my tablet aside and pored over the still photos on Eleanor’s digital camera. Again, no one struck me or the Six as being obviously “off.” Well, except the man and woman who’d huddled by the front door during the gourd demo on Friday afternoon. We had both video and still shots of them.I might recognize the woman’s helmet of blonde hair if I saw her again, but the oversized dark glasses she wore and the man’s mirrored pair obscured more of their features than I remembered.
    In a few frames, they appeared to scan the room as if looking for someone. They never gave any indication that they’d spotted who—or what—they were looking for, and they never left the front of the store. They also hadn’t attended today’s demo. Conclusion: squirrelly for sure, but not necessarily suspicious.
    The other oddball from Friday afternoon’s gourd presentation, the thirty-something guy in the blue scrubs, dark shades, and New Orleans Saints cap, had his head down in the one photo we had of him. The video camera had caught him drifting among displays, pausing now and then, but never looking at the goods as if he’d buy something. Once the presentation started, he stood behind the last row of chairs, his gaze glued to his cell phone more often than not. The phone was pointed toward the floor, so I doubted he was sneaking photos. He certainly didn’t appear to be interested in the demonstration, so why had he come?
    Huh. Come to think on it, I had sensitive eyes, and unless the skies were seriously overcast, I put on my shades as soon as I stepped outside. However, I took them off inside buildings. Why hadn’t these people? And why hadn’t I spotted any of the sunglasses squad in today’s video feeds? Was it happenstance that they’d only attended the Doralee and Sherry Show?
    I glanced at the ring of seniors. “Do any of you recognize these three people?”
    â€œI don’t,” my aunt said as she passed the camera to the others. “Do you think they’re important?”
    â€œNot really. None of them appears to have approached the demo table yesterday, and they didn’t show up today.”
    That’s what I said, but then I wondered if those threepeople had been together, perhaps casing the store. The likelihood was slim, but I’d be extra careful to lock up and set the alarms. Bottom line was that we’d struck out identifying a possible tool thief.
    â€œI’m sorry, Eleanor. Maybe we’ll see something if you upload these pictures to y’all’s laptop at the farmhouse. That will blow them up a bit.”
    â€œI do believe that’s worth a try,” she said. “I’ll e-mail any pictures that merit another look.”
    â€œDone, and I’ll call Greg on Monday to order another camera to cover the blind spot. Until he can come, though, one of us should stand guard over artist’s supplies.”
    â€œRoger that,” Maise said. “I’ll make a duty roster.”
    â€œPut me on it, too,” Jasmine said, leaning on the opposite side of the counter, her braids dancing. “I can take afternoon shifts, and I’ll keep guarding even if you get another camera.”
    Maise gave her a decisive nod. “We’ll be squared away in no time.”
    *   *   *
    That night playing with the critters took my mind off the puzzle of the missing tools. Dab had gone off to