He eyed me from underneath thick eyebrows that knotted in suspicion, his too-lean features stark in the low light.
“We are through,” the man said, his Farsi hinting at a northern Iraqi upbringing. “We will need the plasma cutter tonight.” He said the words plasma cutter in English, and the brute’s gaze snapped toward me to see if I was paying attention. I’d already taken the opportunity to take an extreme interest in an antique necklace Mr. V had in a display case beside the register. I sighed longingly.
Appeased, he tossed the bag to his partner and jerked his head in a silent order to leave. The brute, who was not so much tall as beefy, then turned his attention to his own sandwich.
Mr. Vandenberg handed me two twenties, trying hard to control his shaking fingers. He was one of those middle-aged guys who seemed much older, mostly because he was thin with slightly graying hair. The fact that he wore outdated wire-rimmed glasses and a bow tie didn’t help either. He lived for all things nostalgic.
“Keep the change,” he said, his gaze suddenly pleading. He wanted me out of there and quick.
“Thanks.”
More voices wafted over from the back room. They were muffled, so I had a hard time making out what they were saying. All I caught was something about a support beam. It needed to be restrengthened? Reinforced. It needed to be reinforced. Another spoke about a metal pipe. There seemed to be something blocking a route.
The brute took note of my lingering presence. I had no choice but to leave. Just as I turned, another woman came in. I’d waited on her at the café. A part-time hairdresser and full-time busybody with more gumption than sense.
Mr. V’s adrenaline shot through the roof.
“This is pretty,” I said, pointing to the necklace so I could hang around a bit longer.
“Hi, William.”
“Good morning, Ellen. I have your lamp boxed up and ready to go.” He cast a quick gaze at the brute as though asking permission, then shuffled to a shelf in the back to get the box.
“I’m so excited,” she said, oblivious. Or not. “It’s going to look great in my foyer. Oh, Natalie missed her hair appointment. I hope everything is okay.” She was fishing. Must’ve been running low on scandal.
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry.” Mr. V walked back to the counter, box in hand. “We had a family emergency. She and the kids had to go to my mother’s for a few days.”
Lie.
“Oh, goodness.” Intrigue drew her closer as the melody of fresh gossip slid inside her ears. “I hope everything is okay.”
’Nother lie.
“Yes. Yes.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his aquiline nose. “It’s fine. My mother fell and bruised her hip, so Natalie is staying with her this week.”
She took the box, her razor-sharp gaze raking over him. Did she know he was lying? She let a calculated smile widen across her face. “Well, you give her a big hello when you talk to her. And tell your mother to get better soon. I’ll be expecting more of that fabulous zucchini casserole before too long.”
He forced a soft laugh, but I felt fear radiate out of him. A fear that was so genuine, so dire, it pulled the air from the room.
Having gained nothing terribly gossip-worthy, the hairdresser waved a saucy good-bye and left with her lamp. Mr. V cleared his throat when he realized I was still waiting. Dug into a pocket. Dropped several coins on the floor but ignored them to rummage through the small bills he’d freed.
“Janey, sorry, what’s the damage?”
It took me a moment to realize he was so distraught he was trying to pay me again.
“It was twenty-seven.” I waited a second as he counted out the bills and another nice tip before adding, “But you already paid me.”
When his blue gaze crested the gold rim of his glasses, he flushed. “I did, didn’t I?”
I gave him a sympathetic nod.
“Sorry.” He stuffed the bills back into his pocket. “Did you want to look at something?”
I didn’t figure “The back room?” would go over well. My only question at the moment – besides the one involving the letters W-T-F – revolved around how much English the brute knew. I couldn’t risk talking to Mr. V in case the man was as fluent in my native tongue as I was in his, and I didn’t know enough about the situation to try to signal the anxious storeowner.