Apple of My Eye (Tiger's Eye Mystery #7) - Alyssa Day Page 0,56

be wrong?"

"Mr. Oliver, I think you're going to have to talk to Eleanor about that. It would be inappropriate, as you said, for me to discuss my employee with you."

He sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just that she's… well, she's the apple of my eye, Tess. I can't bear to think she doesn't want to see me anymore."

I put my phone on mute and drew in a long, shaky breath.

Oh. My. Goodness.

Is it possible? Could Mr. Oliver be the stalker? If so, why would he give himself away like that? Or is this part of his devious plot to taunt me with the knowledge, when he knew I had no proof? After all, I'd seen firsthand that he had a thing for younger women.

He was still talking.

I took the phone off mute and tried to sound calm. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

"When does she work next, if you don't mind me asking?"

"This afternoon," I said automatically, before realizing that I probably shouldn't have told him.

The apple of his eye.

"Have you been by the shop recently?"

"What? No," he said, sounding distracted. "Not since Eleanor and I started dating. I admit my putting the Jackalope in pawn was just an excuse to see her."

"I never would have guessed," I drawled.

I had to be wrong. It had to be a coincidence. No way would a man who'd pawn a Jackalope over and over just to see the woman he liked be a crazy stalker.

Or…

Was that evidence of obsessive behavior?

Had he developed some kind of sick fixation on me when he was here to see Eleanor?

How would he have met Ann Feeney?

"Well, thanks, Tess. I guess I'll see you this afternoon."

And then he hung up.

Was that a threat? Was this enough to call the sheriff about? Unfortunately, it felt more like the Pastor Nash/peppermints theory.

I called Jack, who didn't answer, but I didn't bother to leave a message. Bill Oliver was coming in this afternoon. I'd see what I thought then.

First, though, I needed to warn Eleanor. I sent her a quick text. When she didn't reply right away, I put my phone behind the counter and went to work. Cars were already pulling into the parking lot and taking the day off yesterday wouldn't help me pay the bills.

By the time two o'clock rolled around, I was getting nervous. Jack hadn't called me back or texted and neither had Eleanor. I didn't even know if she planned to come to work. Luckily, I was too busy to worry too much about it. As expected, we had a lot of people in town for the festival and, lucky for me, some of them felt like shopping.

I sold several pieces of jewelry, a camera, three more bottles of Yasmine's perfume, and a rain stick that didn't just make a sound like falling rain but actually caused rain to fall on the first Thursday of every month, according to the con artist, er, person who'd sold it to Jeremiah a couple of years ago. I'd never gone outside and chanted the spell, so I had no idea if it actually worked, but stranger things have been bought and sold in Dead End Pawn.

The wife of the man who bought it gave me a skeptical look. "What if it doesn't work?"

I pointed to the small sign in the corner of the jewelry cabinet:

NO REFUNDS ON MAGICAL OBJECTS

"Sorry. It's a policy."

I could tell she wanted to scoff, but since witches were out in the world now, she had just enough doubt to make her keep quiet. Sometimes, the people who shopped here—the ones who weren’t regulars—thought I must be a witch to sell so many magical items. I always told them the truth if they asked, but if they didn't ask me the direct question, I let them believe what they wanted to believe. It added to the mystery and made for a better story when they went home to their safe, non-magical lives.

Just after the couple left, the door opened again and Eleanor walked in.

"Right on time," I said cheerfully, just as if her soon to be ex-boyfriend didn't have a hussy problem and wasn't potentially a crazed stalker and finger chopper-offer.

"I'm actually ten minutes late. I'm sorry, but I wasn’t sure I could face him yet." Her face was drawn, and she looked tired and sad. "This is going to be difficult."

"Well, if you'd answered his calls, he wouldn't have to come find you at work," I pointed out reasonably. "Why don't we just hear what