The Accidental Assassin
Page 21

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” I raised my eyebrows and gave her my best innocent expression.
“Right.” Her nose furrowed. “Are you going to tell me why we’re at a meat market? If we’re here to get dinner, I don’t think it’ll keep well in the car while we shop for other stuff.”
“We’re not here for steak, I just need to see an old friend.”
She stopped walking.
“Is this old friend really someone that you have an iffy business arrangement with, who might kill you rather than talk to you?”
“There goes that imagination again.” I shook my head and kept walking. “No, Mrs. Abernathy inherited the butcher shop from her dead husband and has been running it with her sons for as long as I’ve been alive. As far as I know she has no kind of under the table dealings.” And I would know. I’d researched everyone from my past.
“Uh huh.” She wasn’t convinced, but she followed me inside.
“Just stick with the same routine we used yesterday.”
“You mean where I’m a love sick girl hanging onto you like I can’t use my own legs?” She cocked an eyebrow at me.
“I know, sticking close to the truth is safer.” I winked at her. “If you feel the need to swoon to sell it, go right ahead.”
She opened her mouth but stopped when the bell above the door rang softly to announce our presence.
“Just a moment!” Mrs. Abernathy’s voice floated from the back of the shop.
Ava gave me an aggravated look before stalking past me into the store.
The building had the same dank, raw meat smell that most butcher shops contained. The white tile floor and counters seemed to enjoy showing the leftover blood droplets in deep contrast. Everything was mostly clean, but it would be impossible to catch everything. A shelf sat against the far wall, advertising marinades and special sauces.
Ava walked around the small room inspecting the shelves and baskets of vegetables. She clasped her hands in front of her like a child scared to touch anything. Maybe she was worried about getting her fingerprints on anything.
There was a small refrigerator next to the register that housed different cool drinks. The quiet hum filled the shop as we waited. Mrs. Abernathy appeared from a back room wiping her hands on a rag.
“Owen Walker, it’s been too long!” She came around the counter and kissed my cheeks.
“Indeed.” I kissed her cheek and then pointed to Ava. “This is my friend, Ava. Ava, this is Mrs. Abernathy.”
“Nice to meet you.” Ava held her hand out and smiled at the older woman.
“And you, dear.” Mrs. Abernathy took in Ava’s appearance with a critical eye. To her credit, Ava didn’t blush, but instead stood there with her hand still in Mrs. Abernathy’s.
The shop owner looked back over at me and frowned. “You’re in trouble?”
“I’m not sure I would call it trouble, more of an interesting situation.” I shrugged.
“Come to the back and I’ll make tea.” She headed for the door through which she had just entered. “Then you can tell me all about this situation.”
While Ava didn’t say a word, her expression spoke volumes. Intrigue, suspicion, and amusement battled for dominance.
I waved my hand ahead of me and followed her through the doorway. The back room was mostly used for meat preparation, but there was a small office off to the side with comfortable chairs, a table, and an old desktop computer. Mrs. Abernathy set a kettle on the portable stove top and turned the dials.
“I hope you don’t mind powdered creamer. Johnny used the last of the milk yesterday.”
“Powdered would be fine.” Ava offered a smile, but it was a little thin around the edges.
At first look, Mrs. Abernathy seemed like a helpless old woman, bent with age. But here, in the back, you could see the intelligence that shined through her eyes. She was confident and radiated power. When I was younger I’d been convinced that she was a Russian spy or at least someone important hiding from bad guys.
Now here I was, the bad guy, sitting across from her, knowing that the strength in her voice, the steel in her eyes, all came from living a hard life. Despite any troubles she had encountered, she had managed to carve out a slice of something good for herself and her family. That wasn’t something most people managed to do.
Mrs. Abernathy was a survivor.
That was probably why I felt such a deep kinship with the woman. I’d been dealt difficult cards in life as well, but unlike her, I couldn’t see how to carve out my own piece of happiness, so I settled for a life where I could simply feel satisfaction over a job well done.
“It’s been a while since we had tea, you and I.” Mrs. Abernathy smiled. “I remember when you would come in here with your mum before you moved to the city. Big eyes, big ears, but always so quiet. You’re still too quiet.”
I could feel Ava’s eyes on me, but I paid her no attention.
“My mother thought a great deal of you.” I picked up my tea and sipped. “She also told me that when children misbehaved in your shop you made them clean the floors in the back with their toothbrushes.”
“Once. I did that once and it will follow me to my grave.” She laughed. “And yet, you always came back to see me.”
“You’d sneak me crisps when mum wasn’t looking.”
I was hyperaware of Ava’s presence. It was difficult to open up about my life in front of anyone, much less someone I’d only known for a little over a day. But she didn’t speak, didn’t judge.