“Or it could be something really important,” Maddy said. “Did you see what was written on the envelope?”
I hadn’t, so I turned it over and saw that there was an odd series of numbers written on it. There were too many digits, and they were not spaced properly for it to be a telephone number. “What does it mean?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think there’s a chance it’s just innocent dry cleaning, do you?”
“We’ll look into it, I promise,” I said as I started driving again.
We were almost at the Slice, and I was suddenly in a hurry to get back to my safe haven, the pizzeria. It was a refuge for me, something Joe and I had created out of our sweat and tears. Though Maddy and I often discussed murder there, the place still managed to hold me in its warmth, as the joyous memories I’d had there far outweighed everything else.
We pulled up in back of the Slice, and Maddy grabbed our finds as we got out of the car. We walked through the shortcut, and I glanced over at the mural painted there. Timber Ridge had done all in its power to draw folks to the promenade, and as a business owner there, I was mighty grateful for all they’d done. We were through the passageway and on our way to the blue section of buildings where the Slice was when I heard a pounding on a window nearby. Paul, our dear friend and the best baker in our part of North Carolina, was waving frantically to us from inside his shop.
“What do you suppose is going on with him?” I asked Maddy as we hurried to meet him at his front door.
“I don’t know, but I’ve got a hunch that we’re about to find out.”
Chapter 6
“Paul, what’s wrong?” I asked when he met us outside. “I’m so glad that I caught you. Somebody came by here looking for you not too long ago, and I wanted to give you a heads-up before you got to the Slice,” he said.
“Was it Rebecca Whitmore?” Maddy asked.
“I don’t know who that is, but no, it wasn’t her,” Paul said.
He was about to continue when Maddy interrupted. “Believe me, you can’t miss her if you ever see her. She’s slim, nearly six feet tall, kind of pretty, if you like that type, and the last time I saw her, she had long brown hair.”
“No, I haven’t seen her,” Paul said. “I’m talking about Art Young.”
“Art came by?” I asked, more startled than I meant to show. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“He didn’t tell me anything about why he was hunting for you. He just asked me to tell you when I saw you that the two of you need to talk, and he left this envelope for me to give to you in case I ran into you first. He was pretty insistent about it.”
I took the envelope from Paul as he added, “Eleanor, I know that you two are acquaintances, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need to watch your step around him. From what I’ve heard, he’s connected. Listen, if you need a little cash to get through a rough spot, I’d be glad to loan you everything that’s in my account, and it’s interest free.”
I had to laugh. “Art is more than a passing acquaintance to me. He’s my friend, Paul.” I waved the envelope in the air. “There’s no way this has cash in it. I’m curious, though. Why do you think I might need money?”
He just shrugged. “Hey, don’t forget I run a small business, too. I know how tight things can get sometimes.” He took a step backward as he added, “I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds. You and Maddy are two of the best friends I have in Timber Ridge. I can’t help it if I’m a little overprotective of you both.”
Maddy and I laughed, and we each found one of his cheeks to kiss. Paul smiled, but it was clear he wasn’t all that comfortable with our public display of affection. That was just too bad, though. He was like a part of our family, a big brother who just happened to be younger than either one of us. That didn’t mean that he still couldn’t look out for the two of us, though.
“Just for the record,” I said, “we’re fine, financially and otherwise. I have no idea what’s in this envelope, but it has nothing to do with money, I can guarantee that to you. By the way, how’s your love life these days?”
Paul managed to look uncomfortable yet again. I knew that he was still seeing Gina Sizemore, the young woman who ran Tree-Line. It was an elegant resort hotel and conference center on the edge of town, and they were still dating, at least as of the festival last night. I’d seen them together there, walking around the promenade, holding hands and looking as though the rest of the world wasn’t even there. “It’s fine,” he said.