A Crafty Killing Read Online Free PDF Page B

of incandescent and fluorescent lights; the path-worn, spotted tan carpet rippled where it had been stretched; the dark, bland plank walls and ceiling, and the virtual sea of ugly dark brown Masonite pegboard dividing the booths. Did he smell the dry wood—sense the aura of hopelessness?
    “What’s the dominant color?” Katie asked.
    Vance’s frown deepened. “Brown.”
    “And how does that make you feel?”
    He let out a whoosh of air, the lines around his eyes creasing. “Depressed.”
    “Not conducive to a good shopping experience, is it? The only improvements made in decades appear to be the new checkout counters and the showcases in back.”
    “Ezra hired me to build them. They’ve only been in about a month.”
    Katie shook her head. “Two tiny improvements in a sea of neglect.”
    She started walking again, with Vance following in her wake. Pausing at Booth 12, she pointed at a dirt-caked spade, a rusty hoe, and a dull scythe, which leaned against the wall. “Here’s an impressive sculpture made of old farm implements. Except they’re filthy. And this carpet looks like it’s never been vacuumed.”
    “Each vendor is responsible for keeping their own booth clean. Ezra supplied vacuum cleaners for their use. I guess not many of the artists take advantage of it.”
    Katie sauntered into another booth, which featured hand-woven articles, including several beautiful wall hangings that would have shown better with decent lighting. A shelf held more items, including a small box full of colorful woven bookmarks, no doubt made on a hand loom from silky yarns. Waving her hand at the untidy heap of woven rag rugs that overflowed an old steamer trunk, Katie asked, “See anything you’d want to buy in here?”
    Vance gave the booth a quick once-over. “Not especially.”
    “What if I—” Katie sorted the rugs from the placemats, then arranged them by color, draping them artistically over the trunk—something the vendor should have done on a regular basis. Did the vendors just abandon their booths, or were their sales so lackluster they couldn’t be bothered to come in to tidy their booths on a regular basis? She finished her reorganization and stood back to admire her work. “What do you think?”
    Vance shrugged. “It looks a bit better.”
    “Just think how much more merchandise the artists would sell if they put a little imagination into their displays.”
    “Didn’t Chad tell me you had a background in marketing?” Vance asked thoughtfully.
    She nodded. “I can’t understand why none of the artists has painted their booths. It’s so god-awful bleak in here.”
    “That was Ezra’s idea. He didn’t think one vendor should have an edge over another. He wouldn’t allow anyone to paint or put up wallpaper. Believe me, I’m not the only one who fought with him over that on more than one occasion.”
    “As far as I’m concerned, every vendor can do what they want in the way of decorating their booths if they think it will increase their sales.”
    “I’ll take you up on that,” Vance said gratefully.
    Katie scowled. “One of the merchants on the Square told me Artisans Alley is the big draw here. Well, it won’t be if we don’t turn it around—and fast.”
    “What are you suggesting?”
    “For one thing, we have to rent the rest of the available booths. Now.”
    Vance’s expression slackened. “Not to amateur crafters. Ezra would never allow—”
    “Ezra’s dead,” Katie said. “And Artisans Alley will be, too, if we don’t pump some life into it.”
    Hands on hips, Vance advanced into Katie’s personal space, suddenly looming over her. “You’ve never shown any interest in this place. What makes you think you can just waltz in here and change everything now?”
    Katie stood firm. “I own ten percent of this business. I’m also the executor of Ezra’s estate. That gives me the authority to do what I think is best for Artisans Alley. Including selling it outright.” She