A Crafty Killing by Lorraine Bartlett

Chad set up the computer so that we would get weekly printouts. Ezra liked to hand-write the checks, although the computer can do it. They go out on Tuesdays, you know.”
    Not this week , Katie thought. “It’s going to take me a while to figure out how to do all that.”
    “I can help,” he offered. “I just can’t do it on a regular basis.”
    “Could you be available this week?”
    “I’ve ...” He hesitated. “I’ve got things to do tomorrow. And Ezra’s funeral is Tuesday. You weren’t planning on opening that day, were you?”
    “I haven’t decided. Probably not. With no one to manage the place, I may not reopen until Saturday.”
    Vance’s eyes widened angrily. “You’ll piss off a lot of the artists if you do that.”
    “Maybe it’ll motivate someone to find us a manager,” she said, making sure to keep her voice level.
    Vance seemed to squirm within his clothes. “I’ve got to get going. I’ve written out a list of instructions,” he said and handed her a folded piece of paper. “Can you close by yourself?”
    The last person who’d closed by himself was dead, Katie reminded herself. She glanced at her watch: four twenty-nine.
    “Sure,” she said, with more conviction than she felt.
    “I’m sorry, Katie,” Vance said again.
    “Don’t worry about it. You must put your family first.”
    Vance swallowed and looked like he wanted to say something—then thought better of it—and turned to leave her office.
    Katie sighed, uncovered the loan agreement, and stared at the Courier typeface. Ezra had probably written up the agreement on the old portable typewriter that sat in the corner. Was that so there was no record in the computer, or had the computer only been there for Chad and Vance’s use?
    Katie bit her lip. She should put the document somewhere safe. But first she’d make two photocopies on the tabletop copier behind her. Placing the original on the platen, she did just that. Folding one of the copies, she put it in her purse, then made a new file folder tab and put the other copy and original away in the cabinet.
    Next, she read through the paper Vance had given her. Neatly printed block letters guided her through every step needed to close the place. Step one, warn the customers that Artisans Alley closed in twenty minutes, and then after they were all gone, lock the doors and do a walk-through to make sure the place was secure. Empty the cash registers and lock the day’s receipts in the safe. Only she didn’t have the combination to the safe. Did Vance? Maybe she could lock them in the file cabinet. It wasn’t the best solution, but she didn’t want to take that kind of money home and make herself a target for a mugging either.
    Katie looked up at the ugly plywood covering the hole where her window had been and sighed. “Oh, Chad, why did you have to die and leave me in this mess? You, too, Ezra.”
    She read through Vance’s list a couple more times, memorizing it, before heading for the cash desk. She picked up the phone and pressed the public address button. “Artisans Alley will be closing in twenty minutes. Please bring your purchases to the front desk. Closing in twenty minutes.”
    Rose Nash, manning Cash Desk 1, with a string of five customers in line, gave her a thumbs-up and a smile. She had no wrapper, so Katie stepped in to help. Katie recognized one of the women as having been standing behind the door at opening. Could she have been shopping at Artisans Alley for nearly seven hours?
    “Oh, isn’t this cute,” Rose proclaimed, examining a small, handmade greeting card in a clear protective sleeve. She removed the gummy price tag from the plastic. “Someone’s birthday coming up?”
    “My sister’s,” the woman said proudly.
    “Tell her ‘Happy Birthday’ from Artisans Alley,” Rose said. “That’ll be three dollars plus tax.”
    The woman handed over a fistful of dollars and change. Katie eased the card into a small brown paper bag before