Free The Longest Yard Sale by Sherry Harris Page A

minutes and a couple of sips of her wine.
    â€œThat’s a lot of money. Not that I don’t think you’re worth it.”
    â€œThey raised my rent, and I thought I’d be further along by my third year than I am. The shop hasn’t made as much money as fast as I thought it would when I wrote the business plan and convinced Brad it was a good idea.”
    â€œSo the infusion of cash seemed like a good idea.”
    â€œIt still is,” Carol said.
    â€œSomeone must have seen the painting and wanted it—maybe one of your customers or one of the tourists who were here over the weekend. Have you reviewed your security tapes?”
    â€œThe cops took them. It’s not that sophisticated a system. I only have one camera, and it points into the front of the shop. My studio and the back door aren’t covered. I didn’t think a bunch of paints were that valuable. And no one goes back there but me, Olivia, and occasionally you or Brad.”
    â€œThe police will probably check any cameras near the store to see if they caught anything,” I said.
    â€œThat’ll take time. And it’s Ellington. It’s not like the town is plastered with security cameras. On top of that the state police showed up and interviewed me too.”
    I thought for a moment. What could I do to help her? Seeing Carol cry hurt my heart. “Maybe we can figure out who took the painting. And get it back.”
    â€œYou’d do that for me?”
    â€œOf course. We’ll start with your client list.”
    â€œYou think it’s one of my clients?”
    â€œIt’s a possibility. We’ll start with people who came in on Saturday. We can question the ones who aren’t familiar to us.”
    â€œWhen can we start?” Carol asked.
    â€œWhen they let you reopen.”
    â€œDid you hear any more about Terry McQueen? Who he is or why he was in my store? Assuming we have the name right,” Carol said. “What did CJ say?”
    â€œCJ hasn’t called me back,” I said. “I found out a Terry McQueen worked on base.”
    â€œI wonder if he knew Brad,” Carol said it more to herself than me.
    â€œI’m not sure where he worked.” But that was something for me to find out. “Laura told me that Terry and Bubbles had started a financial planning company together, and some people weren’t very happy about that.”
    â€œWho is Bubbles?”
    â€œDave Jackson. An old friend of mine. Do you know him? He’s in the air force, too. Do you have any money invested with him?”
    â€œI don’t know him. All our extra money is invested in the shop right now.” Carol shook her head. “I’d better get home.” Carol hugged me as she left. At least she’d quit crying, and her shoulders weren’t slumped as she trotted down the steps. She didn’t seem to know she might be a suspect in the murder. Maybe that was for the best. I realized I’d do whatever it took to clear her name.

CHAPTER 8
    I washed the wineglasses and plates and put them away. I wrapped up the last piece of pizza in aluminum foil and stuck it in the fridge. After tossing the pizza box in the recycling bin, I set the chairs back at opposite sides of the table. Carol had been so worried about her problems that she hadn’t grilled me about Seth. It was only 8:30, but it felt much later. As I cleaned, I thought about my promise to help question Carol’s clients whom neither of us knew. What had I been thinking? There were probably lots of people on the list. Knocking on their doors and asking them if they’d swiped a painting didn’t seem practical.
    Another knock on my door interrupted my thought process. I usually didn’t have more than one person stop by my apartment in a given week, and that person was usually Stella. Maybe Carol had decided to come back and grill me about Seth, after all. I opened the door to one very