It's Murder at the Buy-Right

31

 Henry had boarded up the window. He'd done a nice job.

"Go on home, Henry," she said wearily.

"But Daisy Ann," he said.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Look, there's a couch in the break room. You can sleep on that. Eat whatever's canned or doesn't need refrigeration. There's a radio back there, too. It will keep you company, tonight. Grab you a few of those Buy-Right tees for when you wash up, too."

"Thanks. You heading out?"

"In a little while," she said. "I'm tireder than a centipede on a million mile march, but I'm too wired to rest. We'll tackle more of the cleanup, tomorrow. I think I'll wade through some of Deke's paperwork. When I feel myself getting cross-eyed, I'll go home."

"Okay. Good-night, then."

"See ya' in the morning, Henry."

Daisy Ann went into Deke's cubby. She'd been itching to straighten that mess out all day.

She turned on a small lamp. She looked around. The little area was a den of tiny cubicles and rat holes. Papers were stuffed in each one so tightly, many looked like they were jumping ship, trying to escape their cramped quarters.

Daisy Ann just shook her head. Why, the dust alone on some of these things was enough to give a body a sneezing fit that would last into the next century.

She took the giant black garbage bag she'd brought with her and gave it a flap. It filled the whole area.

Time to get down to business.

***

Daisy worked until her shoulders ached. She pulled at a wad of receipts and dropped several. Bending over to retrieve them, her glasses 'plonked' onto the floor.

It was a tight squeeze. She didn't want to break them. Rarely did the Dollar Store carry reading glasses that were turquoise and pomegranate with sequins. If they did, the stock girls snatched them up before they ever made it out onto the floor.

She shoved her foot to the edge of the cubby. A trap door opened.

Retrieving her glasses, Daisy Ann grabbed the little flashlight on her key ring. She wasn't a fool. She'd never think of sticking her fingers in a dark hole without some kind of illumination.

She'd never volunteer for Habitat for Black Widow Spiders. Not in this lifetime.

With her little light, she tried to bend over and check out the space.

Maybe if she removed Deke's chair and the garbage bag she had for old receipts, there'd be enough room.

On her hands and knees, she crawled into the cubby. Her rear end was sticking out like a road sign.

"I hope Henry is a sound sleeper," she muttered.

If not, he might just be inclined to get a two-inch brush and some paint and artfully paint the letters D A N G E R    W I D E    L O A D across her buttocks.

Something was in the little cubicle.

Daisy Ann tugged.

It was a tight fit.

When the four sides finally let go of its prize, Daisy Ann's breath caught.

It was a small notebook.

Was this Tab Tyler's infamous little black book?

She'd always heard Tab had been a Casanova in his day.

Daisy Ann couldn't help but smile.

Just the thought of that toothless old man riding all over the county riding on his jet black stallion ruining many a fair maiden's reputation was ridiculous.

Still, some of the old timers, especially the women, claimed that Tab was the finest looking male to ever sew wild oats.

Hard to believe, but she guessed it could be true. She'd only known Tab in his waning years when he'd looked like a weather-worn prune – all pink gums and wrinkled like a Shar-pei.

She scrambled up.

Her knees popped.

"I sound like Snap and Crackle," she said. "Let's just hope I don't Pop!"

She was pooped.

Exhausted.

It was time to call it a day.

Her feet were bawling in those old sneakers she was wearing. Not to mention the fact that her ever-tight bra had given up the ghost about three hours ago.

Every muscle and limb was sagging and bagging and begging to go home.

A nice hot shower and some microwave lasagna.

That's what she needed.

A wine cooler and a classic movie.

Clark? Tyrone? Cary?

Endless choices, and all just peachy.

She stuffed the notebook into her purse. It was time to go home. Tab's conquests could wait, but her aching dogs were just about ready to chew their way out of their canvas pens.

It had been too long of a day.

"I wonder who fell under Tab's charms. Huh. Ancient history. Trysts from the last century! They'd have to be a hundred like Tab."

She locked up, shaking her head. The boarded window was such an insult. Why would anyone do that with Deke lying up in the hospital fighting for his life?

It was criminal, Daisy Ann thought.

She looked at the empty parking lot. How long would it take to get the place up an running? 

And all that work! 

Daisy Ann's heart skipped a beat.

Was this going to be worth the heartache?

What a lonely place this store was at night.

Lights out.

Boarded windows like blind eyes.

Forlorn.

Forsaken.

Deserted.

She shivered and hurridly searched for her keys.

The beam of her headlights shown on the wooden handle of the upturned election sign.

It was just one more thing that made her shake her head in wonder.