CHAPTER 7When Throckmorton opened the door to the drugstore on Tuesday morning, a thin woman barged past him, spitting and hissing under her breath. She shouldered him out of her way, though she looked to be over seventy, and he must have outweighed her by eighty pounds. The few people on the sidewalk scampered out of her path as she marched down the block.
An attractive honey-blonde was at the cash register. He nodded toward the front door. “Looks like somebody needs their medication adjusted,” he said.
“That was Agnes,” the blonde said. She was easy on the eyes. Her smile glowed, but he figured anyone who’d gotten rid of a customer like Agnes would be happy.
“You’re new here, aren’t you? I’m Chris Throckmorton.”
“I’m Nancy Twittle. First day on the job,” she said.
He pulled a prescr
