“Ryan,” Maris said, looking at the concerned look on the young man’s face. “Is everything all right?”
He looked down at the floor behind the counter. “Kind of,” he said. Then he looked at the glass case and craned his head to look at the floor on the other side of it. He finally turned his gaze to them. “I’ve misplaced a bag of sinkers.”
“Oh?” Mac said, stepping forward. “Where did you last see them?”
The hair on the back of Maris’s neck rose. She’d been hoping to keep the investigation into the series of thefts to herself. But it seemed that Mac had already slipped into sheriff mode. If he’d been in uniform he’d have his notepad out.
“It was right here on the counter,” Ryan said pointing to the spot. “At least, I think it was.”
The sheriff nodded. “With everything else being equal and without overthinking it, what would you have normally done with it?”
The store owner thought for a moment. “I’d just have fetched the bag of weights from the box back here, put it on the counter, put the box away, then put the sinkers in the right bin.” He nodded to the far wall. “In that gray tray labelled one ounce disc sinkers.”
But as Mac turned to see the intended destination, something on the floor caught Maris’s eye. She stooped low to pick it up. It was a skinny, almost cylindrical lead weight.
“Is this one of them?” she asked.
Ryan held out his hand and Mac watched her deposit it in his palm. But the young man only frowned down at it. “No. I mean it’s a sinker, but not a disc sinker.” He scratched his head. “But where did it come from?”
All three of them scanned the rest of the floor, but Maris had spotted the only item to be found.
“Oh wait,” Ryan said and looked up at the ceiling. “It must have fallen from there.”
To Maris’s surprise, the ceiling held a large collection of rods and reels suspended under its entire expanse. There were long, elegant poles with giant circular reels, regular poles like the ones used on the pier, and even some tiny ones in bright rainbow colors that must be meant for kids.
“Wow,” Mac said. “That’s quite the display.”
Ryan pointed. “From that one.” He looked at Mac and Maris. “Can you see it?” He went over to stand right under a particular one. “There are the hooks, but look at the line. It’s missing this weight.”
How he could have picked out the single pole that was missing something, Maris couldn’t fathom. She could barely make out the clear nylon thread where he pointed. “Could it have come untied?”
The young man shrugged. “I guess it must have.” He tossed the weight lightly in his hand. “It’s definitely not the heaviest one I carry, but still, it’s a good thing no one was standing under it.”
Maris almost winced at the thought of it landing on someone’s head. “That would have been an unwelcome little surprise.”
“But that doesn’t tell us where your bag of sinkers went,” Mac said.
The three of them paused and stood gazing around the shop. With all of the merchandise displayed in every nook and corner, a bag of sinkers might be anywhere.
The two shoppers who appeared to be together brought over a boxed set of lures.
Ryan smiled and said to Mac, “I’m sure it’ll turn up. I do that a lot. Set things down, and then have no idea where they are.” He turned to his customers. “Did you find everything you needed?”
Ryan headed toward the cash register, and Mac said, “Thanks again for letting us park. We’ll let you get back to work.”
The young man waved at him and smiled. “Any time.” He took the plastic box from the young woman. “This is a great set of lures. Pretty much all purpose for saltwater. I made them myself.”
Maris and Mac made their way to the back and into the short hallway.
“You made them?” the young woman said behind them, surprise in her voice.
They exited through the back door to the alley, with its parking spaces and large trash bins.
Although Mac didn’t mention the missing sinkers on their way to the truck, Maris couldn’t help but recall the other absent items: a crystal ball, a credit card charger, a jar of honey, an album, and now some fishing weights. There was absolutely nothing that the items had in common. But now a new thought occurred to her.
What if it wasn’t the items themselves, but perhaps the owners that had something in common?
11
On the morning of the second day of the festival, Maris had made sure to show up to the kitchen extra early. But in order to ensure that breakfast would be on time, she stayed well away from the stove. Instead, she was at the butcher block.
“Is the bread ready?” Cookie said over her shoulder.
Together they had confirmed what Maris had always suspected—she was a disaster in the kitchen. But over time, they’d figured out a way that she could contribute. While Cookie did all the actual baking and cooking, Maris got the fruit and vegetables cleaned, potatoes and onions chopped, and orange juice squeezed. In the dining room she made sure the coffee and hot water were ready, and also the warming trays. This morning she was also in charge of creating the cold plate of lox, tomatoes, cucumbers, and red onions, sprinkled with capers. By the time she’d arrived, Cookie had already finished the blueberry pancakes.
“Here you go,” Maris said as she brought the large plate of sliced bread over. Using a small juice glass, she’d pressed a hole through the center of each slice. “You know, Eggy-in-the-Basket has to be my all-time favorite.”
The chef cocked an eyebrow at her. “Uh huh.” On the large commercial stove, the breakfast
