Cat's Claw (A Pecan Springs Mystery)

suggest that someone might be stalking him?”
    “Stalking him?” Palmer sounded surprised. “No. He didn’t mention anything like that, although—” He stopped, frowning. “He’d heard from a woman he used to know, though. She was sort of a pest, I guess. He said he wished she’d stop hanging around and go away and leave him alone.”
    “A former girlfriend?” Sheila asked. She took out her notebook. “Did he say who she was?”
    “No. Larry wasn’t the type to talk about stuff like that. I didn’t get the idea that she was ever a girlfriend. Just somebody he knew from someplace he used to work. The insurance agency, I think he said.” He shookhis head dismally. “Listen, I really would like to go back to the bench and finish up that hard drive. The customer wants it first thing tomorrow. And work kind of makes me feel better, you know?”
    Bartlett glanced at Sheila and they traded mute signals. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr. Palmer,” he said. “At least, not tonight. You can open for business tomorrow at the usual time, but we’ll take the business files and employee records with us.” He gestured to the laptop on the sales counter next to the cash register. “And the shop computer. This is it?”
    Sheila knew that finding anything related to Kirk’s death was a long shot, but they had to take a look. There might be something in the emails that had come to the shop, or in one of the other documents.
    “That’s it.” Palmer bit his lip. “I guess that won’t be a problem. But what about the customers? And the guys who work here? Should I tell them about Larry?
What
should I tell them?” His voice rose. “And what’s going to happen to the business?”
    “You might want to put a notice on the door, letting people know that the owner is deceased,” Sheila replied.
    “Yeah,” Palmer said. “Maybe I won’t open up until ten or eleven. There’s going to be a lot to sort out.”
    “And as far as the business is concerned,” Bartlett put in, “you may need to consult with Mrs. Kirk.”
    “Oh, hell,” Palmer groaned. “That’s all I need. Dana doesn’t know diddlysquat, but she’ll want to take the shop over and run it. She always did, you know—want to run it, I mean. And now it’s hers, I suppose.” Distractedly, he ran his hands through his hair. “Damn. Damn, damn,
damn
.”
    “How many people have a key to the shop?” Bartlett asked. “You? The other employees?”
    “Yeah, I do, of course. And Dennis Martin and Richie Potts, sure. But they’re not employees. That is, they’re contract guys. They come in when there’s work. When we call them to do a job. Larry or me, I mean.” He waved toward the Rolodex on the counter. “They’re both in the Rolodex. There’s a card up front with their phone numbers and email addresses.”
    Bartlett’s cell phone gave three digital notes and he flipped it open, checking the caller ID. “Yeah, Mattie,” he said, and turned away to talk.
    Sheila flicked through the Rolodex, finding the card. “And Jason?” she asked. “Is he here, too?”
    He blinked at her. “Jason Hatch, you mean? Yeah, I guess. But we haven’t called him for a while.”
    “Why?”
    “Dunno.” He cleared his throat. “Larry just said to stop using him unless it was a have-to case. Unless we got really busy and couldn’t handle the load otherwise.”
    “So Mr. Hatch hasn’t been in the shop recently,” Sheila said. “Since how long ago?”
    “Oh, maybe a couple of months. August, maybe.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you exactly.”
    Sheila made a note and repeated her earlier question. “Do you know why Mr. Kirk didn’t want to employ him?”
    His glance slid away. “Uh-uh. Larry just said to put him at the bottom of the list and ask before I called Jay to come in.”
    She persisted. “Would any of the other guys know why?”
    Palmer’s lip twitched nervously. “I doubt it. I wouldn’t think so.”
    Jason Hatch
. Sheila jotted down the name, noticing the initials.
JH
. “Does Mr. Hatch live in Pecan Springs?”
    “Yeah, in a trailer park on the other side of I-35. At least, he did. Theaddress is probably in the Rolodex.” He paused and added, more sharply, “I don’t know what you’re getting at with all these questions about Hatch. But you’ll find some other names in the Rolodex, too. Guys who have worked here at one time or another since the place opened. Hatch isn’t the only one.”
    “Does Mr.