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

by Nickles, Judy

  “It must be fascinating.”

  “It is. When Wally asked me to come here, I thought it would be a working vacation.”

  “Were you close friends?”

  “Wally and me? We went to college together and kept in touch afterwards, but the relationship was strictly professional.”

  “And you kept in touch with Brice Dolan, too.”

  “I hadn’t heard from him in years. He’s married, you know.”

  You’re lying through your teeth. I can tell by the way you won’t look at me. “Yes, I do know.”

  “I’m not interested in him romantically.”

  “It’s none of my business how you’re interested in him.” Maybe you were interested in Wally Powers, too. Playing both sides of the court.

  “You’re right—it’s not.” Jill squared her shoulders. “That’s all I came to say. Brice doesn’t need any more gossip floating around when he’s trying to get his business off the ground.”

  “I hope he’ll be successful. With all the tourist trade we get throughout the year, he should have good seasonal sales and be able to stay afloat.”

  “I’ll keep this house in mind the next time I need a period place for a shoot.” Jill crossed the room toward the French doors leading to the foyer.

  “That’s kind of you.” Penelope rose and followed her unexpected guest. But you’ll get your camera in here when the Arkansas River turns to purple ink.

  Jill stepped out on the porch. “I’m glad we had this little talk.”

  Penelope crossed her fingers behind her back. “Oh, so am I. Goodbye now.”

  ****

  Penelope found Mary Lynn waiting in the kitchen. “Who was your visitor?”

  “The professional photographer Wally Powers brought in.”

  “Why is she still here? Is she a suspect?”

  “Beats me—to both questions.”

  “Why did she come to see you?”

  “I stopped in Brice’s shop yesterday, to wish him luck and all that. She came in from the back and called him ‘darlin’. So she came by today to tell me they’re not involved.”

  “And you believe her?”

  “No, but I don’t blessed care anyway. Apparently she, Wally Powers, and Brice all went to college together.”

  “They did?”

  “That’s what Brice said—and she confirmed it. Apparently she worked for Wally Powers from time to time.”

  “Did you hear about the letter Hal Greene found in his door the other day?”

  “He told Daddy about it at the Sit-n-Swill the other night. I kept waiting to hear from you, but you never called.”

  “You could’ve called me.”

  “Mary Lynn, we’re best friends precisely for the reason we don’t crowd each other. I know you’ve been upset over all this, and I didn’t think you needed me asking a bunch of questions.”

  “Oh. Well, the letter was typed and unsigned. Brad talked to Harry and Missy, his secretary. Actually, she’s the secretary for everybody in the city government, all eight of them. She uses a computer and prints stuff out, and she said all the old typewriters they used at city hall were disposed of at an auction about eight years ago. So somebody stole the letterhead.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “It doesn’t make sense, Pen. Somebody’s trying to frame Harry. And by the way, we don’t own a typewriter either.”

  “I didn’t ask you that.”

  “I know, but I’m telling you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Harry called Hal right away and told him he didn’t write the letter. I guess Hal believed him.”

  “They’ve known each other a long time.”

  “Since high school, just like the two of us.”

  Penelope took two sodas from the refrigerator, fitted the cans into cozies, and set them on the table. “I’ve talked to Bradley a couple of times, but he never says anything about an open case.”

  “The whole town’s talking about it, though. I hope Chief Malone gave Hal some good hard facts to print in tomorrow’s Bugle.”

  Penelope shrugged. “I’m sure he did. What people don’t know for sure, they make up. A straightforward story will go a long way toward stopping the conjecture. Oh, and did you know Hal found the body? He told Daddy that, too.”

  “I heard it, but—so it’s true? Hal Greene found Wally Powers’ body?”

  “Upstairs in Miss Madeline’s room, although how anybody knows whose room it was, I don’t know.”

  “What was he doing there? Hal, I mean.”

  “Maybe he went to smooth things over.”

  “After Powers cussed him out? Hal’s not one for holding grudges, but I can’t see him going hat-in-hand to Powers.”

  “I can’t either.” Penelope sipped her soda. “I’d like to see upstairs.”

  Mary Lynn dropped her eyes. “Me, too.”

  “Daddy said Malachi Sanborn’s son came back to Amaryllis and raised a family, but he and his wife are buried away from here.”

  “That’s right. Malachi’s in the City Cemetery, but his son, Harry’s grandfather, is buried up North somewhere.”

  “What about Daniel Dolan?”

  “He’s here, too.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I asked the caretaker.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It’s such a mess, Penelope. Harry’s so upset and…”

  “I can see him being upset because he was questioned about a murder but not about his great-grandfather owning a saloon that happened to have the oldest profession busy at work upstairs.”

  Mary Lynn turned the can between her hands and let out her breath. “No, you’re right. If that was all there was to it…”

  “So there’s more.”

  Mary Lynn nodded. “Malachi’s wife sold the saloon all right, before she left town, but her son bought it back.”

  “Bought it back? Why?”

  “From what Harry got from his mother, Malachi’s wife Emeline—that was her name, Emeline—was a shrew. The kids adored their father and despised her. Anyway, the oldest son, Harry’s grandfather, was about fifteen when Daniel Dolan shot his father, and he didn’t want to leave Amaryllis. As soon as he was of age, he came back, bought the building, and rented it out to some people as a general store.”

  “Daddy remembers the store.”

  “Harry’s daddy inherited it and rented it out as a feed store.”

  “Are you about to tell me Harry sold that building to Brice Dolan?”

  Mary Lynn looked away. “When Harry’s daddy died, he left a large estate. You know Harry’s sister Helen married money and doesn’t need more, so she signed away her rights to Harry with the proviso he’d take care of his mother until she died—which he did.”

  “Very well, as I remember.”

  “The feed store was part of the estate.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “It wasn’t a secret, but we never talked about it.”

  “You told me Brice Dolan got it at a tax auction.”

  “He did. Harry decided to let it go because it was an unnecessary expense. He knew he couldn’t sell it, so he told the Town Council he was going to let the taxes become delinquent so it would revert to the city. I mean, he was up front about all of it. Most of Council members said they’d have done it long ago. Besides, it meant money for Amaryllis when it went up for auction. More money than the taxes would’ve brought in. Basically, it was a gift.”

  “I can see that. Did Harry know what was upstairs?”

  “He’s never even been inside the building.”

  “Why didn’t the other tenants ever find the second floor?”

  “Because it was locked off at the landing, and they didn’t need more space. At least, that’s what Harry heard. But when Brice bought it with the idea of putting in an antique shop, he wanted the upstairs for storage. When he told Harry what he’d found, Harry offered to clear out the second floor himself if Brice would
forget it ever existed. Brice said no.”

  “Why?”

  “Harry tried to reason with him—said would be bad publicity for the town after all the other garbage we’d been through. And, he didn’t think anybody would believe he didn’t know about it from the beginning.”

  “But he knew about his great-grandfather getting shot.”

  “Yes, but the family story was that Malachi owed Daniel Dolan some money, and the two of them got into a fight over that.”

  “It just doesn’t seem that important, Mary Lynn, not after a hundred years and more.”

  “But it is, don’t you see that, Pen? When Harry’s grandfather Oscar came back here, he’d made his mother give him his inheritance in advance. It was a hefty sum, and Harry’s mother, as an only child, got all of it plus what Oscar made on his own. Harry grew up in a very affluent home, don’t you remember that?”

  “I guess I do, but nobody around here ever put on airs. Harry was just Harry.”

  “His family had plenty of money, and a lot of people didn’t like his father. Harold wasn’t from around here, remember. Even though Harry went to law school and has a small practice, it’s his inheritance that’s let him spend more time being the mayor of Amaryllis rather than earning a living as a lawyer.”

  “Again, that’s common knowledge, but I’ve never heard anybody criticize him for what he’s done. He’s been a good mayor.”

  “A few years ago, Harry ran into somebody at a city government convention who hinted that the Sanborn money was tainted. It bothered Harry at the time, but he just sort of put it away. Then, when Brice found that—that—establishment on the second floor, Harry realized where the family fortune got its start.”

  “All right, it got its start in a saloon and an um-hum, but this is now, Mary Lynn.”

  “Brice Dolan’s family lost their money during the Depression. By the time Brice was born, they were barely getting by, especially after his father died, and he always resented Harry for having what he didn’t have.”

  “Why didn’t he resent some of the others, like Travis Pembroke?”

  “Travis was older. It wasn’t the same. Brice saw this as a way to embarrass Harry.”

  “It seems to me the town’s turned on Brice, not Harry.”

  “For now. But if the finger of guilt keeps pointing at Harry, they’ll turn the other way. Now do you understand?”

  Penelope sighed. “I’m beginning to.”

  Mary Lynn got up. “And by the way, the community center isn’t opening on schedule.”

  “Why not? Everything’s ready.”

  Mary Lynn’s eyes filled with tears. “Harry says we…he…well, the two of us don’t need any more publicity right now.”

  “Oh, Mary Lynn, that’s foolish!”

  “It’s what Harry wants.” She scooted through the back door before Penelope could say another word.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Bugle reported the murder of Wally Powers on the front page. His picture, sourced to the AP, took up more space than the copy, ending with the statement that Detective Bradley Pembroke of the Amaryllis Police Department says the investigation is on-going and cautions residents not to believe rumors. The paper gave no official explanation of why the Sunday photo special edition hadn’t been printed. Everyone knew anyway.

  ****

  On Saturday, Penelope made it a point to attend the grand opening of Brice Dolan’s Antique Arcade, though not entirely out of loyalty to a hometown boy. She admitted to herself without shame that she wanted to see if Jill Jerome was still in evidence. She was.

  The sparse turnout spoke to the blame laid at Brice’s feet for bringing Wally Powers to Amaryllis. Though the Chamber of Commerce did the obligatory ribbon-cutting, Hal Greene didn’t take pictures of the event, so Jill Jerome filled in. Penelope doubted the event would get a mention on the back page of the paper.

  As mayor, Harry Hargrove put in the obligatory appearance—a very brief one. He posed for Jill with Brice, announced that Amaryllis had another excellent business to be proud of, and departed without further pleasantries. Penelope lingered for the refreshments catered by the Daisy Café. Over a cucumber sandwich, she asked Brice flat out if he had plans for the second floor.

  “Somebody said you might turn it into a tourist attraction. Give tours and all that.”

  “I’ve thought about it.”

  “I see.”

  “It would bring in people.”

  Penelope finished the last bite of her finger sandwich. “It would also embarrass Harry Hargrove.”

  “Too bad.”

  “You didn’t have much of a turnout today, you know.”

  “I’m not depending on this town to keep the store in business. Most people have their own antiques. Sometimes I think this whole town is one giant antique.”

  “Why do you feel that way? It’s your hometown, the same as it’s mine.”

  “It’s not really the same, Penelope. You know I came from the wrong side of the tracks.”

  “You did not. There’s no such thing in this town. Never was.”

  “Figuratively speaking.”

  “Oh.”

  Brice glanced at the three people still browsing among his treasures. “But I did all right for myself.”

  “I’d say so.”

  “Wally Powers was a so-and-so, but he’d have written a story that would’ve turned this town on its ear.”

  “The question is, why would you want to turn your hometown on its ear?”

  Brice looked at her for a long moment before he said, “Because I can.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Brice, but I wish you success with your business. I’ll make sure to mention it to the guests who stay at the B&B.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Now I have to go.” Penelope looked around for Jill and found her at the jewelry case with a customer. “Is Jill staying around?”

  “She might,” Brice snapped. “Is it any of your business?”

  “No, it’s none of my business, Brice. None at all.”

  ****

  Shana had just locked the front door when Penelope showed up at the library. “Come around back,” she mouthed through the glass before she pulled the shade. “How was Brice Dolan’s opening?” she asked when she let Penelope in through the storeroom door.

  “Pathetic. I felt sorry for him.”

  “Fall Festival is coming up. Maybe he’ll do some business with the tourists.”

  “I hope so. Are you seeing Peter and Tabby this weekend?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “That’s what I said.” Shana began to shut down the computer at the circulation desk.

  “Okay, what’s up?”

  “The grandparents. They’re threatening a custody suit.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “Negligence.”

  “Tell me how she’s neglected.”

  “You know she’s not, but they say they can prove it. Mainly, I’m still in the picture. Peter says they wouldn’t like anybody he was interested in, and that may be so, but I’ve got three strikes against me.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “I shacked up with Travis Pembroke, I was on the run from drug dealers with you, and Tabby’s already referring to me as her almost-mommy.”

  “Oh, boy.”

  “They almost came unglued when she let that slip during their supervised visitation.”

  “Shana, I’m sorry.”

  “I am, too, Penelope, but it’s Tabby I’m thinking about. I told Peter we should cool it for a while.”

  “What did he say to that?”

  “He said absolutely not, but I convinced him.”

  “How?”

  “I reminded him we weren’t even engaged and his first responsibility was to Tabby. He asked if I needed a ring to make it official, and I said no, I didn’t want one and wouldn’t take one as long as it could mean he might lose Tab
by.”

  “Surely no judge would…”

  “The Bainbridges have a lot of money, Penelope, and money buys a lot.”

  “Surely not a judge!”

  “You never know, and it’s not worth taking a chance on Tabby being taken away from Peter. Once they got her, they’d do everything they could to turn her against him. Children are impressionable, and she’s young enough they just might succeed.”

  “So you’re not going to see him again?”

  “I suggested we put some space between the two of us for a while.”

  “For how long?”

  “For as long as it takes.”

  “Which could blessed well be forever. What are you going to do—wait for them to die? If you are, it’s going to be a long wait. They’re around my age, I’ll bet.”

  “A little older—early fifties.”

  “Then they’ll be around a long time.”

  “I don’t know, Penelope, but I’m crazy about Peter, and I adore Tabby, and the thought of anything hurting either one of them is more than I can stand.” Shana’s shoulders slumped. “The point is, I did what I did, and now I have to pay for it.”

  “We all pay for our mistakes one way or the other but not forever. Look, come on over to the house and eat supper. I’ve got a raw vegetable platter with that dip you like so much, and we’ll make some ham and cheese croissants.”

  “Thanks. I guess I don’t need to go home and mope, which is what I’ve been doing all week.”

  “Want to spend the night in one of the guest rooms?”

  “No, those are all ready for the next event. No point in me messing one up. I’ll just eat and hang out.”

  “Okay. I’ll go on, and you come when you’ve finished up here.”

  “Thanks, Penelope. Give me twenty minutes.”

  ****

  Penelope had just dished up caramel fudge ice cream when Bradley came by. “There’s plenty of supper left,” Penelope said.

  “I’ve eaten, Mother. I just came by to ask you something. Hey, Pawpaw. Hi, Shana.”

  “What’s the question?”

  Bradley chewed the inside of his lip. “Can we go in the other room?”

  Penelope closed the door between the kitchen and the dining room. “What’s going on, Bradley?”

  “Did that photographer come to see you the other day?”