Shattered Secrets (Cold Creek #1)(58)
Tess studied the man’s printing on the sign, but it seemed cruder than that on the stick figure drawing. Still, she walked even faster to get several tables away from him and those pelts.
She saw Dane’s sister, Marva, had a table promoting her tanning salon. It looked as if she was giving out nail files, which Tess could use, but she just wasn’t up to talking to Marva. As soon as Gabe got his warrant, she figured Marva’s friendship as well as Dane’s phony kindness to her would go up in smoke anyway.
To her surprise, Miss Etta had a table with books and magazines spread out on it, though ever so neatly. And she had a huge plastic pump bottle there for browsers—and no doubt, herself—to sanitize their hands.
“Oh, Tess, come over here,” she called, gesturing her closer. “This is just another of my endeavors to make learning part of this community, to get others to read. With some of the folks around here, if they so much as read a newspaper or a store coupon, it makes my day, but those little phones and tablets with picture screens are killing all sorts of real books. Now, most of these are discards, but if I give them away in trade for a new library card—” she leaned forward to tap a pile of temporary, paper ones “—maybe it will make a difference in someone’s life. By the way,” she added, gesturing for Tess to sit in the second chair she had behind the table. “How were those books I loaned you? Help ring any bells?”
“A few. They made me think, if not remember. I can’t stop right now though, Miss Etta. I want to find my cousins if they’re here with the commune people.”
“They are, though I didn’t see their children with them. It’s all business on Saturdays for them to sell things, but how that group makes ends meet beyond those sales is a puzzle, though I heard a rumor they might sell their land for some sort of oil drilling. Their illustrious ruler,” she added with a roll of her eyes, “doesn’t like his subjects holding regular jobs.”
The wiry woman turned away to extend a magazine with a motorcycle on it toward a couple of teenage boys slouching past. She tapped the sign, Free Reads for a Temp Card, and the boys stepped forward to sign up. Not much Miss Etta didn’t think of. It seemed as easy as baiting a hook and fishing.
“You look peaked, Tess. Are you all right?” she asked when the boys drifted off, and the woman quickly pumped gel sanitizer on her hands.
“Just not sleeping like I should yet.”
“Yet? I hope you don’t mean since the tragedy twenty years ago. Well, you just stop by—or I’ll bring the bookmobile past—and you can get a nonfiction book on relaxation techniques. You know, medical research has been proving that everything from weight loss to resistance to illnesses depends on getting a good night’s sleep. On the other hand, dependence on something like sleeping pills can create new problems.”
Tess made her escape when Miss Etta started to talk to two women about scrapbooking. She passed a man selling handmade birdhouses, and then, at the end of the row of vendors, she saw the Hear Ye people behind a series of oilcloth-covered tables.
Looking for Lee and Gracie, she skimmed over those working. Miss Etta had said they were here, but, with the Hear Ye members all having similar clothing and hairstyles, they seemed to blur together. So much for American individuality, Tess thought, although the bounty of their offerings was diverse. Beautifully woven baskets were filled with bittersweet, walnuts or wildflowers. Mesh sacks contained walnuts in the shell and there were glass jars of them already shelled. She looked at painted wooden plaques with sayings on them like It is more blessed to give than to receive. Tess wondered if that was a hint that people should give them a tip when they purchased something.
“Looking for Lee and Grace?” a voice behind her said.
She turned. Bright Star Monson seemed to have materialized from the crowd.
“Yes, I am.”
“It’s their turn to carry sacks of things to people’s cars, a kindly gesture, going the extra mile. Now, let’s see,” he said, smiling as his eyes went over her, and he tapped an index finger against his chin. “If I ordered a plaque made expressly for you, it would say something like For the Lord has called you like a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit. And should you continue to feel that way, Tess Lockwood, you will always have a place with your cousins and with all the brothers and sisters of our flock.”
She stood mute for a moment. Not only because he’d dared to think she would ever join them but because he’d spoken about a woman forsaken and grieved. Could he read her so well in the little time she’d been near him? Had Lee or Gracie told him much about her?
This man gave her the chills. If Dane Thompson or Reese Owens did not pan out as suspects, Bright Star Monson should be number three on Gabe’s list, just for the bad vibe he gave off.
“I’ll look for them later,” she said, eager to get away from him. “I hope you have a good day selling things.”
“Always,” he intoned as she turned and walked away. In the crowd, she nearly bumped into Vic Reingold, who took her elbow and steered her along.
“I was keeping an eye on the mayor and him,” Vic told her. “I can tell Monson bugs you. Is it because of the here and now, or does he ring any bells?”
“If he does, they’re not conscious ones,” she said, remembering how Miss Etta had used the same phrase about ringing bells a few minutes ago. “No one really rings my bell, and that’s my problem.”