Out Of The Ashes

“Well, if it isn’t young Mr. Monroe!” Hiram Sullivan greeted him from behind the counter. “Make my day, sir, and tell me that you have finally been caught, and you’re here to pick out an engagement ring.”

Rob laughed. The engagement ring deal was Mr. Hiram’s running joke with him—he said the same thing every time Rob came in. “You know me—a rolling stone, and all that. Nope, today it’s all official business, I’m afraid, but Ma’s got a birthday coming up, so maybe I do need something after all.”

“Ah, a good woman, Mrs. Colleen is, and a very wise one. I saw her earlier this week with Mrs. Kimberly. Your brother and she have their bridal registry picked out.” Mr. Hiram nodded toward the tables of china near the front of the store.

The idea of Daniel picking out china and other frou-frous boggled the mind. “Just let me know what they need toward the end and put me down for it—I know beans about wedding presents.”

Mr. Hiram nodded approvingly. “An easy customer. Now what is it that I can help you with in your official capacity?”

“I came back to ask again about the fire.”

Mr. Hiram tsked and began polishing his spectacles with a jewelry cloth he’d pulled from his apron. “A sad thing, isn’t it? Is it wrong to be glad that it was on the other side of the street? At our age, we couldn’t start over. Our whole life is in this shop.”

“And you’ve seen nothing out of the ordinary? Not in the weeks leading up to the fire?”

“No, like I told you before, nothing that stands out. No sinister folks—how do you law enforcement people put it? Casing the joint?”

The words sounded ludicrous coming out of the old man’s mouth, but Rob managed to suppress all but the smallest of grins. “What about Kari Hendrix? And the bakery?”

Mr. Hiram pursed his lips, considering. “A nice young woman, if you ask me. Hardworking. Reminded me of Mrs. Sullivan at that age.”

“How so?” Rob leaned forward on the jewelry counter.

“Well, she did so much of the work. The curtains—did you know that she sewed them herself? And every week she’d put in a new display in the window. She was there every morning when I opened up, and she stayed late a lot of nights. And have you sampled her wares?” Old Hiram kissed his fingertips and closed his eyes in satisfied memory. “That woman knows her way around a kitchen!”

“Did other folks appreciate her good points?”

Mr. Hiram frowned. “You mean did she have a good business?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Not at first. It was slow going, and you could see how dispirited she was. She’d come out and give free samples on the sidewalk—we looked forward to those, but my wife always said we shouldn’t be greedy. I liked the little mini blueberry muffins the best.”

“Her muffins are good,” Rob conceded. “So business was bad?”

“Lately, no. She’d gotten on a roll...it was steady, and improving. A few days before the fire she came over with a basket of goodies for me and the missus, and she was excited about the orders she was getting—the mayor’s daughter had ordered her wedding cake. Kari was sure it was a good sign.”

“Obviously she didn’t know the mayor’s daughter. Now, that one is a diva if I ever saw one,” Rob commented.

“Oh, yes. Changed her mind three times about her engagement ring, and I thought she’d drive my wife mad going back and forth about the china. But I could see why Kari thought it a good omen—if she pleases Mattie Gottman, she has a shot at the wedding cakes for all eight of the girl’s bridesmaids.”

“Eight?” Rob choked. “Who needs eight bridesmaids? I pity the poor guys they rope in for groomsmen.”

“She’d wanted ten, but two girls had the temerity to say no.” Mr. Hiram dusted his fingernails against the twill of his apron. “Can you imagine?”

“Saying no to Mattie Gottman? It takes a strong man—believe you me, I’ve had to do it. Not for the faint of heart.” Rob considered the import of what Hiram had told him. Kari had been given the golden ticket to high-society weddings, at least here locally. It would have translated into more work for her, he knew that.

So that was another nail in the coffin for the theory of Kari burning down her own business. Who would want to let down the mayor’s picky daughter? Or ruin her growing business, for that matter?

“Did anyone not like Kari?” Rob asked. “Anyone who saw her as a threat or her business an obstacle?”

Mr. Hiram screwed up his face in concentration. For a long moment, he just shook his head. A thought must have occurred to him, though, because his bushy white eyebrows sprang up in a classic “aha!” move. “There was a young man who seemed to agitate her—a repeat customer, I suppose. He’s been around more the past month or so. Tall, shaggy blond hair, wears T-shirts and those awful cargo shorts that hang from the waist and show off your underwear—oh, and flip-flops with socks.”

That sounded like a spot-on description for Jake, Kari’s brother. “Could you pick him out of a six-pack if I brought you one?”

“A six-pack?” Mr. Hiram frowned. “Of...beer?”

“No, I mean, six photos of similar looking men. Sorry. My police lingo got the best of me.”

Mr. Hiram had the audacity to smirk. “A six-pack, hmm? I shall have to remember that term. It will impress my wife—she’s always reading those police procedurals.” He began dusting off the spotless display case. “Why, yes, I believe I could. You bring your, eh, six-pack over to me and I shall give it a try.”

“And what made you think this fellow agitated Kari?”

“Well, they seemed to disagree, for one. They were talking excitedly the day of the fire. Oh, wait! I suppose you’ve checked out Mr. Charlie Kirkman? Because he certainly had a contentious relationship with all of his downtown tenants. And he was arguing with Kari that same afternoon.”

Rob sighed to himself. The brother and the landlord—nothing new at all in the way of leads.

“Yes, Charlie Kirkman’s been cleared of any direct involvement...and we can find no financial trail to indicate that he hired someone to do the job. But, er...” now Rob put his fingers to his lips and glanced ostentatiously to either side and said, “keep that under your hat, will you?”

Mr. Hiram nodded. “You have my word. Let’s see...let me think.” Now in an absent-minded way, he pulled out a tray of watches from the case and began polishing them with his jewelry cloth.

He’d made it to watch three before he said, “No, I can’t think of anyone who seemed to have a cross word to say about Miss Kari Hendrix. She does so many nice things for so many people. When Jack Stewart—they own the little bookshop down the street from her—wound up in the ICU, Kari made up a basket of treats for Mrs. Stewart and took it to her in the hospital. The only way I found out about that was when Mrs. Stewart came in here to buy a little thank-you gift for Kari. And Kari’s always donating things to the Downtown Association for raffles and fund-raisers. Look—there she is now—see Kari?” Mr. Hiram gestured with the cloth in his hand over Rob’s shoulder.

“She’s handing out treats for the business owners who are still trying to salvage things.”

Rob turned to see where Hiram was pointing. Sure enough, there was Kari, with a big basket lined with a gingham cloth, doling out...not muffins. A glazed pastry of some sort, from the looks of it.

“Well, how could I have forgotten!” Mr. Hiram murmured to himself. “Alan Simpson—he owns the pawn and gun shop next door to Kari. He’d been after Charlie to move Kari down to another spot, so that Alan could expand the shop. I didn’t think about that until I saw them together just now. See? Kari’s handing him—oh, my, do you think she’ll bring one of those bear claws of hers over here?” The jeweler’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. “I could do with a little midmorning pick-me up!”

It was as if Kari had read the old man’s mind. Rob saw her smile and nod at Simpson, then cross the street and head straight for the jewelry shop. A moment later, the bell jangled and she came breezing in.

“Mr. Hiram! I brought you a—” The bright smile on her face froze as she spotted Rob.

“A bear claw!” Mr. Hiram either didn’t notice her sudden stumble in speech or chose to ignore it. He put the watches back, deftly opened the walk-through gate between the counters and met Kari on the customer side. “I was just telling young Mr. Monroe here that I hoped you’d remember me.”

“Would...would you care for one?” she asked Rob. She held up the basket with a great deal less enthusiasm than she had for Mr. Hiram.