Free See Also Murder by Larry D. Sweazy Page A

way to the counter.
    I had visited the Rexall more since Hank’s accident than I had in my entire life. Gregor Landdow was the pharmacist, and he’d been there since the dawn of time. I glanced over to the drug counter and saw him standing there like always, his head down, counting out pills or reading up on some newfangled cure that the doctors were touting. I didn’t know how he kept up with it all. But he was one of the few people I knew who used and appreciated well-written indexes. He told me so every time I saw him.
    The counter girl was new, and I was happy about that. I didn’t know her or her family, and she didn’t seem to recognize me. “May I help you?” she asked. She was probably just out of high school and looked bored to tears.
    â€œA pack of Salems, please.”
    The girl was a little taller than me and wore bright red lipstick and dark eyeliner, and her hair looked like a beehive had been sat on top of her head. It looked like a lot of work to me.
    â€œJust one?” she asked.
    I nodded. “Yes.”
    She bent down, pulled a pack from underneath the counter, and handed it to me on the way up. I was sure her hair was going to tip over, but it didn’t. “Twenty-seven cents, please,” she said, as she punched the numbers into the cash register and hit a button that thrust the drawer open with a loud ding.
    I looked around unconsciously, hoping that the ding hadn’t drawn any attention. I dug into my change purse as quick as I could, found a quarter and two pennies, and handed them to her in as smooth an exchange as I could muster. I felt like a teenaged girl doing something wrong. I’m sure it showed on my face. I just wanted to get out of there as quick as I could.
    I stuffed the cigarettes in the secret place in my purse, next to the amulet, and started to walk off.
    â€œDon’t you want your receipt, Mrs. Trumaine?” the counter girl said.
    The sound of my name stopped me in my tracks. I was halfway to the door. I turned around and took a second look at the girl. She still didn’t look familiar. I must have known her family somehow. “Do I know you?”
    The store was empty, with the exception of Gregor Landdow. He hadn’t moved from his spot or bothered to look up.
    The girl shrugged. “I’m Betty Walsh.”
    The Walsh name kind of rang a bell. The old folks had a farm out South Heart way that nearly stretched all the way to the Montana state line. But I thought the family had sold the place a while back. Maybe the kids had moved into town. That happened. Or they went on down the road to Bismarck or Fargo, sometimes to Minneapolis or Denver.
    I shrugged. “I’m sorry,” I said. I really wanted to be on my way, but I didn’t want to be rude, and I was curious how she knew who I was. “I don’t recognize you.”
    The girl nodded. “I used to date Jaeger Knudsen in high school. I was out to your place a couple of times. Mostly, I just sat in the truck while him and Peter baled hay, or unloaded it.”
    I nodded, looked at her closely, and tried to imagine her young face without makeup. “Yes, of course,” I lied. I still couldn’t place her. I doubted if Jaeger ever introduced her to me. He was the silent one of the two. Peter would prate on and on about the phase of the moon, the state of the weather, pork belly futures, whatever he’d put in his head that day. Truth be told, Peter was my favorite. He had a curious mind and loved to learn. Jaeger was always in a dark mood, it seemed, but was the harder worker of the two.
    â€œWe broke up about six months ago,” Betty Walsh said. “He was so jealous, I could barely ask for the fella down at the Sunoco Station to check my oil.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” I said, interrupting her. I needed to get home and she looked prepared to launch into a sordid tirade that I had no interest in hearing. “It was good