I said, “I wanted to know if other people purchased your delicious gingerbread cookies in the past couple of days.”
“Sure. Lots of people. Tis the season,” she trilled.
“Do you remember any names of the customers?”
“They’re all new to me. Yvanna might have a record. Why?” she asked, then paled. “Oh, my. Does this have something to do with the murder?”
“You heard about it?”
“From the pet grooming shop owner. How awful. Did you know the victim?”
“I did.”
“Dreadful. Simply horrible.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to finish up. Yvanna should be able to supply the names. And I can’t wait for the book club tea. I just finished the mystery.”
“Glad you’re coming.” I spotted Shara seated at a bistro table for two, an e-reader in hand. I crossed the bakery to her. “Hi,” I said. “May I join you?” I didn’t wait for a response. I moved her creativity bag, which she’d propped against the opposing chair, to the other side of the table. Something clanked when the bottom of the bag struck the floor. “Sorry. Did I break anything?”
“No.” She waved a hand. The cluster of bangles on her right wrist jangled. “It’s all equipment. No figurines.”
“What kind of equipment?” Fiona asked. “Guns and sabers?”
I glowered at her, and sitting, returned my focus to the delicious tart sitting untouched on the table. A fork rested crosswise on the plate. “Yum, Shara. What did you order?”
“Cranberry tart and a latte. The tart is fresh from the oven.” She set her e-reader aside, and using the side of her fork, cut off a bite of the tart. She ate it and hummed. “Definitely a keeper.”
Yvanna made her way to the table. “What can I get you?”
I pointed to Shara’s order. “The same, and do you have any iced sugar cookies?”
“Our baker will be putting the finishing touches on a batch soon. Do you want holly wreaths or snowmen?”
“Snowmen. A dozen. To go.”
When Yvanna departed, I caught Fiona hovering above Shara’s creativity bag.
She gasped and whispered, “Glitter.”
There was indeed glitter shimmering on the zipper. I wondered again if Shara could have transferred glitter to the porcelain bell when she’d visited the shop, and Tianna, who’d grabbed the particular bell, had wound up dusting her own cheeks with the sparkly substance.
“Do you take your tote everywhere?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“It must get heavy.”
“Sure is, but I’m strong. Hey, I heard what happened last night. One of the customers in line ahead of me was talking. It had to be horrible for you finding a body.”
“Didn’t the police reach out to you?”
“Why would they? I didn’t know the victim.” She sipped her latte and viewed me over the rim of the cup.
“Her name was Tianna Thistle.”
“Yes. Tianna. Such a pretty name. The customer said she was a medium.”
“True.”
“Um . . .” Shara’s mouth quirked up on one side. “I’m curious, if she was a seer, why couldn’t she predict what was about to happen?”
