I took out my phone and checked my messages. Still no reply from Karter. I put Lucille’s info in my phone.

“I have something I gotta do,” I said. “It was nice meeting you. I’ll call you when I have your stuff ready.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

I left Lucille’s and walked the rest of the way to Mrs. Redmond’s. I was hoping to see Karter in the bookshop before I went up to her office, but the door was shut and a sign reading Sorry, We’re Closed hung in the window.

I took the narrow flight of stairs next to the bookshop up to the second floor of the building. There were several doors to what must have been other small office spaces. A sign hung from the door closest to the front of the building. It read “M. Redmond.” I knocked. No answer. It sounded like a TV was on inside.

I dialed Karter’s number again and this time he picked up.

“Hey, it’s Briseis. You busy?”

“Not really. Just workin’.”

“Oh? Are you in the shop? I was just there and I didn’t see you. I thought you went home or something.”

“I have another job. My mom’s running the shop today. She probably went to grab something to eat.”

“You have two jobs?” I asked.

“Yeah, nothin’ major. Gotta make them coins.”

“Do you think you could ask your mom to call me when she gets a chance? I have a question about the house.”

“Sure. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. It’s not super important.”

“As soon as I talk to her, I’ll let her know you’re tryna get ahold of her.”

“Okay, thanks. Wanna link up for lunch tomorrow?”

There was a long pause. I checked my phone’s screen to make sure the call was still connected.

“Yeah, I’ll call you.”

He hung up before I could say bye. I went back downstairs and made my way to the coffee shop. I peeked inside to see if Mo was waiting, but she wasn’t there. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Mo.

Mo: Meet me back at the grocery store ASAP

I started walking toward the store, picking up the pace as another text came through.

Mo: WHERE ARE YOU?

I sprinted the last block and barreled into the grocery store parking lot. Two Public Safety vehicles were parked by our car and Mo was speaking angrily with a short, blond woman.

I raced up to her, struggling to catch my breath. “What’s going on?”

The blond woman glanced at me and then down at her pad of paper.

“Look,” Mo said, pointing to the car.

It sat at an odd angle, one side lower than the other. The tires had deep gashes in them, the rubber slit clean through.

“Somebody cut the tires while you were in the store?” I asked.

“Mom is gonna be pissed.”

The woman took Mo’s statement, which was that the tires were fine when she went into the store and flat when she came out. She didn’t see anyone or notice anything strange.