Murder on Consignment by Susan Furlong Bolliger Read Free Book Online

friend,” I yelled back.
    The door opened a crack. I caught a glimpse of a kid with a plethora of piercings and a swatch of fuzz on his chin.
    “Shep’s not here,” he said.
    “When is he coming back?”
    The kid shrugged and started to shut the door. I moved my foot in front of the frame and leaned in trying to wedge my body in the opening. “Hey, is Pauline here?” 
    “She’s busy,” he said, pushing harder on the door, which was cutting off circulation in my leg. I pushed back, but he was proving to be strong for such a scrawny guy.
    “Hey, Owen. What are you doing?  Let her in,” a female voice came from behind.
    Owen let go of the door and I tumbled into the room.
    “ Pippi! How are you?”
    I righted myself and greeted Pauline, Shep’s right-hand gal. We’ d come to know each other well over the past year. “Hey, fine. I shot a menacing look at Owen; but he wasn’t making eye contact.
    “What brings you to the Retro Metro?” she asked.
    “I’ve been trying to reach Shep. Do you know where he is?”
    She glanced uneasily at Owen. “Why don’t you go back and help the guys with that new load of boxes,” she told him. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
    After the door-warrior departed, Pauline motioned for me to follow her. We moved into a retro-eighties style room that instantly transported me back thirty years. “What a great room,” I commented, parking myself on a pink and black director’s chair. A faux zebra-striped rug stretched under my feet.
    “Yeah, Shep wanted to get this finished before ... well… it used to be a fifties-style dinette. He worked hard to collect all these items.”
    “Wow,” I said glancing around. Shep had a knack for decorating. He never seemed to run out of ideas. The whole warehouse was divided into several different rooms, each showcasing a different era of style and déco r. The eighties room was done so well it made we want to break out a white sweatband and don some fuzzy pink legwarmers.
    “So you’re looking for Shep?” Pauline interrupted before I could get too far into the eighties groove.
    I turned my focus away from a framed Ferris Bueller movie bill and back to her. “Yeah, so where is he? I’ve been trying to call him for a couple of days. He’s not returning my messages.”
    “I’m sorry you’ve been worried. He’s fine. He’s taking some time off to visit with his parents.”
    “His parents?  He hasn’t spoken to them in…what…twenty years?”
    Pauline shrugged. “Well, I guess they’ve reconciled.”
    I eyed her curiously. Shep’s parents kicked him out of the house when he was just a teen. I’d never heard him say anything about wanting to reconnect with them. “Reconciled?  Are you serious? Come on, Pauline. What’s up?” 
    She glanced downward and squinted at the zebra rug. Bending down, she made a production of removing several pieces of lint that had gathered on the black stripes. “Nothing’s up. He’s just taking some time off. He’ll be back in a couple of weeks,” she continued to pick as she spoke.
    Her aloofness bothered me, but I sensed I was going to get her to tell me what was really going on. “Well then, I guess I’ll let you get back to work. If, by chance, you talk to him, please tell him to give me a call. It’s important,” I emphasized. “Someone we know was murdered and the cops want to question Shep,” I added, watching for a reaction. A weird feeling settled over me when she didn’t seem surprised by the news. “Does Shep already know about the murder, Pauline?  Is that why he’s taken off? Is he in some sort of trouble?” I was working hard to keep my voice steady.
    She stood and glanced at her watch. I took it as a dismissal and also stood, but still maintaining eye contact. She shifted her stance and looked away. “I’ve said all I can say, Pippi. I’m sorry. I’ll tell Shep you were here. I’m sure he’ll be calling you soon. Now, I’ve got to get back to work, but if