Bitter Sweet by Connie Shelton

littered one section of the floor, as if
someone had bought a file drawer and simply dumped the contents where they
stood.
    Back in the studio, the vultures
had been more thorough. Not a single item of art or pottery remained of Lila
Coffey’s life’s work. Bare shelves showed where the pottery had once been
displayed. An empty recess at the back of the room probably once held her kiln.
A jar of glaze had broken and dripped from an upper shelf to the floor, marring
what had once been beautiful tile. Sam was glad that Zoë had not seen this. It
was too sad.
    But more than learning the
condition of Lila’s possessions, Sam wondered if Ted O’Malley might have left
behind some clues to his own whereabouts. She glanced toward the road to be
sure she was alone, then used one of her lock-picking techniques to get in
through the kitchen door.
    The place felt cold and
abandoned. After a year of breaking into houses Sam had begun to develop an
instinct for whether an owner would be back. But just to be sure, she peeked
into the refrigerator and saw that it was empty. No un-expired milk in this
one. She would have bet money that Ted O’Malley never planned on coming back
here. He’d taken all the chips he could rustle up and he’d cashed out.
    She wandered through the rooms,
knowing that at some point someone might decide to sell the property and a
person like herself would need to come in and give it a final cleanup. Her
fingers almost reached for items, old habit telling her to bag, box and
otherwise get it all ready for disposal—but she couldn’t. She already had
enough projects on her plate for the summer. Still, she might find something of
use in tracking down O’Malley, if Beau could put together any compelling
evidence to put him away.
    If there had been wedding or
honeymoon pictures, O’Malley had done a good job of finding them. He’d
apparently erased all traces of his one-time occupation of the house. In the
master bedroom, the furniture was gone but someone had dumped the contents of
nightstand drawers in a corner. Sam pulled the drapes open for better light.
Among the usual clutter of night creams and magazines, she spotted a couple of
religious tracts. Stapled to the front of one pamphlet was the business card of
a Reverend Ridley Redfearn. The alliterative name caught Sam’s attention and it
occurred to her that maybe the church could use some of the clothing and small
items, either to pass along to the poor or to generate some cash to help
someone. She picked up the pamphlet and jammed it into her pack.
    On the way back to Sweet’s
Sweets, Sam pulled off Kit Carson Road to the side street where Zoë and
Darryl’s bed and breakfast was located. Two guest cars were parked out front;
Zoë would surely allow her to make this a quick visit. She tapped at the
kitchen door and walked in.
    “Hey there,” Zoë said, looking up
from a stack of dirty dishes in the sink.
    “How are you doing today?”
    A vague nod.
    Sam gave the condensed version of
her visit to Lila’s house just now, leaving out the condition of the studio and
the overall sad air about the place. “I found this,” she said, pulling the
preacher’s card from her pocket. “If Lila attended his church, maybe she would
want the extra clothing and stuff to go to them.”
    Zoë dried her hands, took a look
and shrugged. “I don’t remember her ever mentioning this name. But sure, it
sounds like a good idea.”
    “Beau is doing a little more
research on the husband. If we can find out how to contact him again, I’ll
suggest it.”
    One of the B&B guests walked
into the kitchen and Sam used the moment to say a quick goodbye. Back at the
bakery, Jen said that Beau had called, wanting to know if she was still on for
lunch. She pulled out her cell phone and sure enough, she’d missed a call.
Reception wasn’t always great on those roads back in the mountains. She called
him back and they agreed to meet at one of their favorite sandwich shops