Page 43 of A Seer and Present Danger

“Pandora’s stuff?”

“Yes. Kenny wanted to haul it away and pay less than pennies on the pound before the sale even started.”

“Boo,” I said as we ambled to our cars. “That money went to the food bank, didn’t it?”

“It did. But Kenny’s never met a shiny object he didn’t want to get his mitts on.”

“Say,” I said, “do you mind if I ask a, I don’t know, maybe a personal question?”

“Go for it.”

“Why did you give Pandora’s stuff to Crow?”

“Pandora contacted me. She said she didn’t need any of it. She wasn’t coming back to town and wanted to give minimalism a try. It’s a good thing we sold it all, too, because that was the unit that burned down.”

“Do you think she put the safe in the floor?”

“She might have. I’ve only owned the place for ten years or so. The past owners are living in Florida now, and they’d bought it when it was more of a barn than storage units.”

“So, if the safe had been buried by Pandora, then the safe would kind of be her box and…yeah. Maybe that’s not good?” I laughed.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Joanie glanced at her phone. “But there could have been something she wanted to lock away. Something important.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know. Old embarrassing photos? Money? Or,” she winced. “Her box—the—box? I’m going to talk to Delaney and Myra. They might have some history on the safe. Maybe the door was missing before the fire broke out but…why would someone pour concrete over an empty safe?”

“Right. That makes sense. I’m glad you’re following up with Delaney.”

Her phone pinged and she scanned the text. “That’s Myra. She has time now.” She put her phone in her pocket. “It was great to see you, Piper.”

“You too! Good luck figuring out the safe stuff.”

She waved and headed out.

I got in my car and put a check by Kenny’s name. I’d talked to him. Did I think he acted like he was innocent? Not really. He seemed jumpy and angry. But a lot of things in life could make someone jumpy and angry, including finding out your business partner had been killed.

Next stop? The car wash where Gail worked. I had a couple questions I wanted to ask Mrs. She-didn’t-kill-him, and I couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say.

CHAPTER 9

The car wash was the kind where you did most of the work yourself. It had a coin-operated vacuum, sprayer, a soap and wax option. You had to buy the cloths if you didn’t bring your own, and the whole thing was done under a single stall awning—sort of like a large carport.

But you could ask for the deluxe treatment and the employees would do all that work for you.

I decided today was a deluxe car wash day.

I parked and walked to the little shed office. It had heat and air conditioning and smelled strongly of perfume. The radio played—something pop and bright—and Gail Malloy sat at the desk watching a video of people feeding small deer.

“Good morning!” I called out.

“Be riiight with you.” She clicked through a couple menus to bring up something that looked like an invoice.

She swiveled her chair but didn’t stand. “What can I get for you?”

She (like so many people) didn’t recognize me out of uniform.

“One luxury wash, please.” I held out my keys.