“Mortimer, come here. Fold your hands behind your back and don’t touch anything.”
Mortimer grimaced, but acquiesced.
“Neville, wait in the car.”
Neville went back around the Studebaker and returned to his station at the helm where his paper awaited him.
Mrs. Dixon led Mortimer into the shop. There were rows upon rows of goods, some for cooking, others were household products, and behind the front counter were toiletries, medicines and other such things.
Mrs. Dixon bee-lined it straight to the bath supplies. This was one of her indulgences. There were few, for she was a modest woman, but smooth skin was a non-negotiable must.
“George, do you have any new scents in?” Mrs. Dixon set her purse on the countertop and batted her eyelashes at the elderly fellow opposite her.
“We"ve g
