Shoofly Pie & Chop Shop by Tim Downs Read Free Book Online

several moments she knocked again; still nothing. She turned and looked again at the two cars behind her. It occurred to her that the rusting relic on the right may not be in working order. Judging by its appearance, it may not have been driven since Watergate, but the Camry looked in perfect condition. Someone must be home.
    Just then the screen door began to open, and Kathryn had to step back to make room for it. Behind the door stood a pleasant looking, round-faced little man no more than five feet in height. He was balding down the middle and long strands of chestnut hair were combed strategically from one side to the other. He wore small, round spectacles, which accented perfectly the roundness of his cherubic cheeks and nose. It was an altogether kind and friendly face.
    “May I help you?” he asked, self-consciously raking his hand from left to right across the top of his head.
    “I’m here to see Dr. Polchak.”
    “You are?” His eyebrows rose up behind the little spectacles. “Is he expecting you?”
    “No … Actually, I was just driving by, and I thought I’d stop in.”
    He peered over Kathryn’s shoulder into the driveway. There was a silver-blue Camry and a Dodge Dart—nothing else.
    “I … had a little car trouble.”
    The little man seemed to come alive at this news. “Where are my manners? Please forgive me. Won’t you come in? Please do.”
    Kathryn gladly stepped into the open doorway, anticipating the cool rush of air conditioning that is the salvation of every home and business in the South. Instead, to her dismay she found that it was just as hot inside the structure as it was outside—but without the breeze.
    “Please forgive the appearance of the place—we’re not accustomed to receiving visitors here, especially such lovely ones. I am Dr. Tedesco, a research associate of Dr. Polchak,” he said, extending his hand. “You look dreadfully hot. Can I get you anything? Water? A cold drink?”
    “No, thank you, I’m fine. If you could just tell Dr. Polchak I’m here?”
    “Of course, of course.” He glanced back into the laboratory doubtfully. “And whom shall I say is calling?”
    Kathryn reached into her purse and handed him a card. In green thermographic letters it declared: Kathryn Guilford, Central Carolina Bank & Trust, Commercial Mortgage Capital.
    “And please—tell him this is not about banking.”
    The little man held up one finger, winked, and scurried back into the lab.
    The interior of the Quonset was a large, open rectangle. Light from the twin rows of skylights streamed down onto a long, double-sided worktable that occupied the center of the room. Worktables lined all four walls, in fact; stopping only for the doors at either end. The only open space in the room was a narrow aisleway that ran the perimeter of the room, separating the tables along the walls from the one in the center. On the far wall was a door, and the center of the wall was filled with one great, rectangular window looking out into the office beyond.
    Kathryn watched the little man disappear through the door and approach a seated figure in the office beyond. The figure was facing away from Kathryn, bent over a desk, intently occupied by some task before him. The little man began to speak in his effervescent style, holding out the tiny business card and gesturing occasionally in Kathryn’s direction. The figure never moved or looked up; he simply continued to focus on the task at hand.
    Kathryn’s eyes wandered back to the room immediately before her, stopping first on the far worktable just below the great window. It was lined with different sizes and shapes of glass terraria. Her eyes followed the path of the cases around the table to the right; it, too, was completely covered, as was the table on the left and the double-sided counter in the center. The entire room was one vast collection of display cases overhung by long banks of fluorescent lights. She could see that each terrarium contained