Pursued by Shadows by Medora Sale

much for that wide-eyed innocent look.”
    â€œForget the carpenter,” said Sanders impatiently, “and let’s get back to Jane. She had short blond hair two years ago, you said. Was she a natural blonde?”
    â€œNature didn’t make that shade when she handed out hair colours,” said Harriet dryly.
    â€œSo maybe she’s grown her hair in?”
    â€œIt’s possible,” said Harriet doubtfully. “But where does that leave us? Supposing she was in town? And living in that house. Anyway, why would the carpenter say— Now that’s a stupid question,” she added, shaking her head. “Jane always did bring out the guard dog in people.”
    â€œDo you think she might have been looking for work?” asked John. “With a photographer?”
    Harriet looked at him quizzically. “It’s possible. She did make that peculiar remark about bringing down the macro.”
    â€œDid you?”
    â€œOf course.”

Chapter 6
    â€œNope,” the man said, throwing the print back at Sanders with scarcely a glance. “Never saw her in my life before.”
    â€œYou want to look at it this time?” said Sanders, putting the print down on the counter with great care right in front of him. “Before making up your mind you haven’t seen her?”
    â€œI don’t have to look at it,” the photographer snarled. “What do you think this place is? Kennedy International? No girl looking remotely like that has walked in here in the last month. And no one, no matter what they looked like, has been in looking for a job. Do I look like someone who could afford to hire an assistant? You must be crazy, mister. And if you don’t have any more dumb questions, I have a business to run in here.”
    â€œSweet man” said Harriet, as they stepped back onto the sidewalk. “It comes from doing baby pictures. Sours the disposition. That’s why I never photograph babies. I’m—”
    â€œI know. You don’t have to tell me. Why don’t we try that place?” said John.
    â€œWhat is it?” Harriet peered across the street at the dark-fronted building. “An antique store? Why would Jane look for a job in there?”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Sanders. “Except that they have a few old photographs in the window. Anyway, the cruise doesn’t leave for half an hour. We might as well look.”
    â€œWhy not?” said Harriet. “They might have some interesting stuff. You know, five-hundred-dollar chamber pots and things like that,” she added, and began darting her way across the street.
    Discreet gold paint on the door announced that Richard Harmon was prepared to sell them antiques and curios. If they could find them. Inside, the shop was very dark, and filled with even darker pieces of furniture, all arranged against the side walls and in a congested heap down the middle, like a highway median, leaving two wide aisles on either side running to the very back. A fog of dust hovered over everything and the shop appeared deserted. In the far corner at the back they could just make out a very old, battered desk at which a man, possibly Mr. Harmon, was examining some sort of document with the aid of a small, bright lamp and a jeweler’s glass. As they drifted in his direction, a thump made Harriet glance sideways, and she noticed a boy who looked no more than twelve or thirteen carefully lifting objects from a shelf, dusting them, and setting them back again. “This place is unbelievable,” muttered Harriet. “I expect gnomes and elves to creep out from under the whatnots.”
    It took Mr. Harmon at least thirty seconds to admit to noticing that they were standing in front of him. Then with reluctance he covered the document he had been studying with a clean sheet of paper and took the photograph. “Sorry,” he said at once, putting it down. “I haven’t. No