The Feed Store Floozy (The Penelope Pembroke Cozy Mystery Series)

by Nickles, Judy

  “Stay out of trouble, Daddy.”

  “I’m too old to get in trouble.”

  “That’s the problem—you’re old enough to know better and old enough not to care.”

  Jake shook a long finger in her direction. “Don’t be a sassy-mouth, Nellie.”

  “Just be careful.”

  Jake’s truck was barely out of the driveway when Mary Lynn called. “I guess you’ve seen the paper.”

  “Yes. Hal wrote a good story. He didn’t cast anyone in a bad light, and he didn’t dwell on what was upstairs at the saloon.”

  “Harry says it could’ve been worse. At least Hal had the facts and didn’t embellish them.”

  “He never does that.”

  “I’ll bet Powers will. Hang on. What is it, Harry? Oh, no! Don’t you go getting into it! Harry…Harry…”

  “What’s blessed going on, Mary Lynn?”

  Mary Lynn’s words spilled out on top of each other so fast Penelope had a hard time following them. “Harry just came in and said that Wally Powers is down at the newspaper office having it out with Hal Greene. He’s going down there. I’ve got to go. Harry doesn’t need to mix it up with those two.”

  “I’ll meet you there.” Penelope slammed down the phone and grabbed her purse. Daddy’ll be right in the blessed middle of it, too. There’s nothing he loves better than a good dust-up. I wonder if anybody’s called the police?

  ****

  Penelope parked in front of City Hall to watch the crowd gathering in front of the newspaper office and recognized Jake’s bright yellow golf shirt squarely in the middle of the seething mass of people. Oh, Daddy!

  She wiggled through the crowd, mostly men, and tugged at Jake’s arm. “Daddy, come out of here right now.”

  “Shhhh. Listen.”

  Silence enveloped everyone as loud voices floated out the door of the Bugle. “It was my story! You had no right to…”

  “You didn’t have the copyright on the facts. That’s what I printed.”

  “You scooped me on purpose!”

  “It’s hometown news, that’s all.”

  Penelope saw Harry Hargrove, his bulk moving faster than it had since he’d run out on the football field with the team before every game—just to sit on the bench. His pink scalp, clearly visible through his thinning hair, poured a torrent of sweat down his chubby cheeks.

  “Hal, you’re a Judas!”

  “Now, Harry, better me than this tabloid wanna-be.”

  Wally Powers’ voice rose to a screech. “Tabloid! I never wrote a line for a tabloid in my life. I’m in the big time, and this story was going to…”

  “You can still write it, Mr. Powers,” Hal soothed him.

  “Not as the exclusive I promised my publisher!”

  The crowd drew a collective breath at the explosion of four-letter words and epithets. Penelope gritted her teeth. Amaryllis wasn’t perfect, but people didn’t talk that way on the streets in the little town.

  “Don’t be abusive, Mr. Powers.” Hal’s voice betrayed a struggle to stay calm.

  “Abusive? You haven’t even seen the tip of the iceberg of what I do to people who…” The verb he used made Penelope—and almost everyone else—gasp.

  “Just go somewhere and cool off. You, too, Harry.”

  “Judas! Judas!”

  “Look, I’m hometown folks. This guy’s the interloper.”

  “Both of you are! I’ll remember this, all of it! Don’t think I won’t!”

  “’Scuse me, folks.” Parnell Garrett, who towered over most of the people standing on the sidewalk, eased his way through the tangle of bodies. “’Scuse me, Mr. Kelley. All ya’ll need to go on now.”

  He disappeared into the newspaper office, and in a few minutes, Wally Powers stomped out. The crowd parted to make way for him as he hurtled red-faced and fists clenched in the direction of the old feed store. Then Harry Hargrove appeared in the door and took the opposite direction where Penelope saw Mary Lynn waiting for him.

  “Okay, folks, it’s over. Just go on about your business now.” Parnell waved his arm in a large arc, almost like a blessing. “Yeah, that’s it, that’s it.”

  Penelope dropped Jake’s arm. “Let’s go home, Daddy.”

  “I’m going to the Sit-n-Swill for a beer.”

  “Just one.”

  “Just one.” He grinned. “Judas! That’s a good one from old Harry.” He pinched Penelope’s cheek and headed for his truck.

  Parnell paused beside Penelope who realized she was all alone now. “It’s all over, Mrs. Pembroke.”

  “I know. Is Hal all right?”

  “Nobody threw any punches at anybody.”

  “I’m glad you took Hal all the information you dug up.”

  “I’m wondering now if I should have.”

  “That Wally Powers deserved to get scooped. I can’t figure Brice throwing in with somebody like him.”

  Parnell shook his head. “I don’t know, but Mr. Greene’s always been real good about not splashing stuff all over the paper when Chief Malone has asked him to wait. And he treats things with some dignity, too.”

  “Yes, he does. He could’ve made a big deal of what happened out at Pembroke Point and what happened at the old school.”

  “Yeah, well, the less said about that, the better.”

  “I agree. Where’s Bradley this afternoon?”

  “He had to serve a warrant out at Possum Hollow.”

  “Did he go alone?”

  “I offered to go with him, but he said he could handle it.”

  “I know I shouldn’t ask, but…”

  “I guess you won’t tell anybody. Harvey Hadden.”

  “Elbert’s brother…or maybe a cousin. Elbert’s doing really good at the Garden Market.”

  “Yeah, he wanted out of the Hollow, and he got out. More power to him. I wish more would do it.”

  “That place—some of the kids are so bright, but they’ll drop out as soon as they’re able, before they even get to junior high school.”

  Parnell shrugged. “It’s too bad. If they were just making ‘shine…” His voice trailed off.

  “I guess that doesn’t make much money these days, does it?”

  “Nope.” Parnell’s eyes darkened. “Well, I gotta go, Mrs. Pembroke. Nice talking to you.”

  “Nice talking to you, too, Parnell. Come by the house for supper some night.”

  “Sure thing. See ya.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Bradley and Rosabel showed up for dinner that night. “It’s just leftovers,” Penelope warned as she handed out plates and motioned for them to help themselves from various dishes on the cabinet and stovetop.

  “It’s always good,” Rosabel assured her.

  “Besides, beggars can’t be choosers,” Bradley added.

  Penelope punched his arm. “Did I mention you have to pay for your food with some information?”

  “Yeah, dish up the dirt,” Jake said.

  “Now, Pawpaw, you know I can’t talk about work.”

  Jake gave his grandson a long look. “It’s all over town anyway, and I was there. So was your mother.”

  Rosabel carried her plate to the table and sat down. “The two of you were on the square this afternoon?”

  “Heard it all,” Jake said. “Harry called Hal Greene a Judas, and Wally Powers cussed like a sailor. Expected the ladies to get the vapors and faint all over the sidewalk.” He joined Rosabel at the table.

  “Yeah, Parnell told me he broke things up,” Bradley said. “I wish things would settle down like they used to be.”

  “It’s the times, Brad,” Jake said. “Nothing stays the same. Let’s thank the Lord before the food gets cold.”

  ****

  “I don’t know what Mayor Hargrove is so upset about,” Rosabel said, spreading her napkin in her lap. “Nobody cares what his great-grandfather did a hundred years ago.”

  “I think he’s carrying it a little too far,” Penelope agreed. “Mary Lynn,
too.”

  “I just want that Powers fellow to get his story and get out of town,” Bradley added. “He’s a loose cannon.”

  Jake looked up. “A loose cannon?”

  “I just mean he’s been in some situations before, Pawpaw. I checked him out when he started rubbing people the wrong way with his big-city act. It’s public information.”

  “So tell the public,” Jake said.

  “He’s been married several times.”

  “Three,” Rosabel chimed in.

  “And he’s had a string of libel lawsuits against him as long as my arm, but he always came out smelling like a rose. He proved what he wrote was the truth.”

  “Truth is a good defense for libel,” Jake said. “John Peter Zenger.”

  Penelope frowned. “What?”

  “I read that somewhere.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, you’re right, Pawpaw. Facts are facts. Malicious intent is one thing, but if a writer sticks to the facts, he’ll stay clean as far as the law is concerned.”

  “And facts are what Parnell took to Hal Greene,” Rosabel said. “He says he almost wishes he’d left well enough alone, but he didn’t like the idea of Brice Dolan reneging on his promise to Mr. Greene.”

  “Speaking of Parnell,” Penelope said, “he said you’d gone out to Possum Hollow this afternoon.”

  Bradley nodded. “I hate going out there.”

  “Why?” Jake asked. “Is it dangerous?”

  “It can be, but that’s not why I hate it. I hate seeing the way people live, especially the kids.”

  “Some get out. Elbert Hadden did.” Penelope buttered a crescent roll and waited.

  “He’s one of the few who ever did. The kids are dirty, and sometimes when it’s cold weather, they don’t even have shoes.”

  “You know Mary Lynn and I try to see that they do, at least at Christmas.”

  “I know, Mother. That’s why I don’t say anything about the two of you going out there.”

  “You always send Parnell along.”

  “It makes me feel better.”

  “Then he comes back and reports what he sees, I bet,” Jake said.

  Bradley nodded.

  “He said something this afternoon about moonshine,” Penelope said after a minute.

  “I wish that’s all they did.”

  Penelope glanced up. “That’s what he said.”

  “Drugs?” Jake asked.

  “I can’t talk about it, Pawpaw.”

  “Sure, sure, I understand. Did you serve your warrant?”

  “Took me a while, but I found who I was looking for.” The pager Bradley wore on his belt went off. He looked at it, then got up and went to the phone on the wall and punched in some numbers. “What? Oh, crap.”

  Jake, Rosabel, and Penelope stopped eating and waited.

  “Oh, shoot,” Bradley said, apparently remembering who was listening to him. “I’m on my way.” He hung up.

  “Should I keep your plate warm?” Penelope asked.

  Bradley shook his head. “It might be breakfast tomorrow morning before I got back to it.” He pecked Rosabel on top of her smooth, dark head. “Mother will have to run you home. I’ll call and fill you in.”

  She nodded. “Sure.”

  When Bradley had gone, Jake picked up his fork again. “I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts somebody’s done something to that Wally Powers.”

  “Why would you think that, Daddy?”

  He tilted his head and concentrated on the asparagus tips with Hollandaise sauce. “I’ll bet you a beer and a Reuben I’m right.”

  Penelope sighed. “I’d buy you a beer and a Reuben just to celebrate if you’re wrong. We don’t need any more trouble in this town.”

  Rosabel patted her future mother-in-law’s arm. “Maybe it’s nothing.”

  “When Bradley says ‘crap’, it’s something,” Penelope said. “When he was a little boy, he got his mouth washed out with soap more than once for saying that word.”

  “That would be called child abuse today.” Jake chuckled and speared the asparagus.

  “In my day, it was called good parenting,” Penelope said. “Mum did the same thing to me when I came home from third grade with a few new words.”

  “Times have changed,” Rosabel said. “And not for the better.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “You’re blessed hysterical, Mary Lynn. Calm down so I can understand you, or I’m going to hang up.”

  A hoarse, shuddering sound met Penelope’s ear. “Your son—my godson—has been here questioning my husband!”

  “About what?”

  “Like you don’t know.”

  “Listen to me, Mary Lynn, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” Dear Lord, I do. Daddy was right. Somebody killed Wally Powers, and Harry’s a suspect because he got into it with him yesterday.

  “It’s that slime ball Wally Powers. Somebody snuffed him.”

  “You know good and well Bradley would never suspect Harry.”

  “He was here for two hours tonight.”

  “Mary Lynn, Harry doesn’t even like to go fishing because he feels sorry for the fish. The whole town knows what a softie he is.”

  “He hasn’t been a softie since Wally Powers showed up. Oh, Pen, why did Brice Dolan have to buy that place and tell everybody what he found upstairs?”

  “I’ll admit I wish he hadn’t, but I have to say Wally Powers got what was coming to him.” Penelope closed her eyes and muttered a quick prayer for forgiveness. Human life—even a life like Wally Powers’—wasn’t to be dismissed lightly.

  “Anybody in town could’ve done it. He made everybody mad the way he poked his nose into their private business. He even asked Miss Maude Pendleton if any of her relatives worked as…”

  Penelope choked. “He didn’t!”

  “He did. Miss Maude ran him off with her grandmother’s antique pearl-handled umbrella.”

  A mental picture of the seventy-plus-year-old former English teacher who’d struck fear into the hearts of generations of Amaryllis students flitted across Penelope’s mind. “There’s nothing left of that but the spines.”

  “And she laid them across his back, according to her niece Prissy who’s here visiting.”

  “Good for her.”

  “Imagine asking Miss Maude Pendleton something like that. The Methodist Church couldn’t open its doors without her waiting to go in.”

  “Miss Maude is a formidable foe, I’ll admit.” If Bradley questions her, she’ll beat him to death with that umbrella, and that’s a fact, even if he was her pet in school. “So how did whoever did it do it?”

  “I don’t know. Bradley didn’t say, just asked Harry where he went after that disgraceful scene at the newspaper office yesterday afternoon.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “Home with me, and he never left. I wouldn’t let him.”

  “So he has an alibi.”

  “He doesn’t need an alibi! Harry wouldn’t…”

  “Don’t yell at me, Mary Lynn. I just made an observation.”

  “Oh, Pen, it’s too awful, just too awful.”

  “It’s also ten-thirty at night, and I’m going to bed. Come over in the morning for coffee. I bought some fresh kolaches at Rose’s Bakery on the way home yesterday.”

  “If I can. Harry’s so upset I’m not sure he can even go to City Hall tomorrow.”

  “Sure, he can. Harry’s not going to let something like this keep him from doing his mayoral duty. Doesn’t the Town Council meet on Thursday morning?”

  “You know it does. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow then.”

  “Goodnight, Mary Lynn.” Penelope hung up the phone and sat on the edge of the bed considering what was coming. Another murder in Amaryllis. A scandal that could reach back into almost any family who’d lived here since the early days—and those made up three-fourths of the town. She got up and walked to the bureau for a fresh nightgown. Brice Dolan, why didn’t you just
remember who you are—an Amaryllis boy born and bred. Why did you open this blessed can of worms?

  ****

  Shana called mid-morning while Penelope and Mary Lynn were having coffee and kolaches. “I guess you’ve heard what happened.”

  “Somebody killed Wally Powers.” Penelope pushed the button for speaker so Mary Lynn could listen.

  “Bradley’s already been in here this morning asking about what Wally said when he came in the other day.”

  “I didn’t know he’d been there.”

  “He’d heard about the old papers in the storeroom.”

  “Who told him?”

  “Everybody knows they’re there, waiting on somebody from the historical commission to come get them.”

  “I’ll call up there again and see if I can light a fire under somebody. What did you tell Powers?”

  “That our offer to donate them had been accepted, so they were technically the property of the state, and he couldn’t mess with them.”

  “I bet he didn’t like that.”

  “He called me a…well, I would’ve slapped him, but the thought of touching him made me nauseous.”

  “Just as well. He’d probably have filed charges against you for assault. He painted the air blue in the newspaper office yesterday afternoon.”

  “He kept on at me, even offered me a sizeable bribe, until I told him I’d call the police if he didn’t leave. So he left and said he’d be back with a better offer.”

  “But he never came back.”

  “No, but that photographer gal he brought in did.”

  “Jill Jerome.”

  “Right. She wanted to take some pictures of the boxes. Said she’d call them ‘historical mystery in a box’. I told her she couldn’t, and she left.”

  “No argument?”

  “Nope. Smiled and told me to have a nice day—like she meant it, which she probably didn’t.”

  “What are you going to do this afternoon?”

  “I’m driving to Little Rock to pick up Tabby from preschool. Her grandparents are coming, and Peter’s on a job in Benton. So I get to chaperone their visit.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Yeah, aren’t I?”

  “Call me tomorrow and tell me how it went.”

  “If there’s anything left of me.”