He was putting a loaded bag into the cart, but paused to look at her. “No scrubbies?” He set the bag down, and held up one finger. “Let me just check in the back.” He zipped over to the door behind the counter, and disappeared.
As soon as it closed, Maris heard the usual sounds of rummaging that accompanied one of her requests. At first it sounded like boxes dragging along the ground. But then there was a bump, as though something had fallen against the door. Grunting then ensued, along with more scraping sounds and a few more bumps. But Maris didn’t worry. Not only was this the time-honored process, but Howard always came up with the goods, no matter how obscure. She bagged the rest of the groceries and put everything in the cart.
But when Howard finally emerged, Maris had to stare at him in surprise. Not only was his hair going in every direction, he was sweating and breathing hard. His shocked expression and empty hands said it all.
“It’s missing,” he gasped. “It’s gone.”
Maris cocked her head at him. “The scrub sponges?” To say she was shocked was an understatement. He’d never let her down. But he obviously had a lot to deal with and she didn’t want to add to the pressure. She held up a hand. “No problem. They’re not a–”
“No,” he whispered harshly, stumbling back to her, “not the scrubbies.” He put both hands on the counter and leaned forward. “My crystal ball.”
Maris couldn’t help but gape at him. She’d suspected that the older man might be one of the magick folk, but she’d never imagined him reading a crystal ball. He must have realized she was staring at him.
“I know,” he said. “I am a physicist, after all, but…” He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s hard to argue with the results—such as they are.”
Maris closed her mouth and did her best to stop gawking. He’d just confided to her that he was a crystal ball reader, a clairvoyant. Although etiquette dictated that one never asked about magic abilities, she and Cookie had managed to ferret some out. It was the unspoken rule that it was never discussed in public, so Maris took it as a measure of how upset he must be. She paused for a moment. What he’d said was curious. She glanced over her shoulder and dropped her voice.
“When you say, ‘the results, such as they are’, is that important?”
He glanced around as well and leaned forward. “It’s cracked.” He wiped a hand down his face. “Years ago, I dropped it.” He shrugged again. “But what can you do? It’s not like I could just get rid of it.”
“Right,” Maris said slowly, not sure why one wouldn’t get rid of a crystal ball.
His pained expression returned. “And now it’s just…just gone.”
“Are you sure though?” she asked. “Maybe it’s just–”
“I’m absolutely positive,” he said. “I never move it, not since… Well, you know.”
Maris glanced at the closed door behind the counter. She could only imagine the jumble of goods and supplies in there. “Would you like me to have a look? Maybe I’ll be able to–”
Howard quickly shook his head, causing his tousled white hair to shudder. “No.” But then he paused, as a tentative look came over his face. “But maybe you could use that, shall we say, ‘sleuthing’ ability of yours and find out where it’s gone.”
Sleuthing ability, Maris thought. Apparently Howard had his suspicions too.
She smiled a little as she nodded. “I can do that.” She dug in her purse and produced a credit card from her wallet. As he rang up the bill, she put the last bag in her cart. She signed the screen on the digital tablet, and put away her card. Howard ran his hand down his face again and simply stood there looking forlorn. “I’ll let you know what I find.” He finally looked up at her. “I promise.” She put the last bag in her cart and glanced at the door. “So I take it there are no scrubby sponges.”
His face fell. “No. I’m sorry, not without…” Another shopper rolled their cart into line a few feet away. “Without the you know what.”
“Ah,” Maris said, wondering if the rummaging and the fractured crystal ball were related.
She’d been about to leave, when he dashed along the long wood counter and quickly retrieved one of the root beer candies that were her favorite. He handed her the brown and beige spiral stick in a tissue paper.
“A barber pole for the little lady,” he said. Though he tried to smile, it was a bit lopsided. It made her appreciate their little ritual even more.
“Thank you, Howard,” she said, taking it. She fixed him with an earnest gaze. “I’ll be in touch.”
2
Before heading home, Maris crossed the plaza to Delia’s Smokehouse to pick up her to-go order. As she passed the red gazebo, she could see the dozens of cables that had been laid and how they snaked every which way. Large speakers flanked the oriental structure, pointing toward her, while the interior held microphone stands and low speakers at foot level facing inward. Most of the cables from the equipment led to a large desk-like station with a dizzying array of knobs, slide controls, and digital readouts. A man who wore headphones was adjusting them with both hands, while a woman on the stage went from mic to mic saying ‘test, test.’
Two men crossed her path carrying folding tables, both heading toward the collection of booths. A woman with a clipboard seemed as though she was organizing a group of people who were carrying tablecloths and
