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

by Nickles, Judy

  “Do you need me?” Rosabel asked.

  “I don’t think so. Parnell’s on the way.”

  “Where?” Penelope asked without meaning to.

  Bradley shook his head. “Where else? The old feed store aka Dolan’s Antique Arcade.”

  Penelope wanted to ask what was going on, but she pressed her lips together. “Be careful, son,” Jake said.

  “Yeah, I will, Pawpaw. See ya.”

  A heavy feeling settled over Penelope as she watched him leave. Excusing herself, she went into the dining room and leaned against the wall until she had her emotions under control.

  ****

  Rosabel took the call from the police department. “Okay, sure. No problem.”

  She hung up and turned to face Jake and Penelope. “Brad said he’d be here for his pie in about an hour.” She put her hand over her mouth to hide her smile. “You won’t believe what happened.”

  “Can you tell us?” Penelope asked.

  “Harvey Hadden broke into the store and went upstairs, where he found Brice and Jill in Miss Madeline’s room, and…”

  “Maybe you better not go any further,” Penelope interrupted.

  Rosabel grinned. “It’s not what you think. They were having a knock-down drag-out screaming match—some people on the street heard them—but apparently Harvey had a jug of shine with him, and by the time Brad and Parnell got there, everybody loved everybody.”

  “What is Harvey doing hanging around there?” Jake asked.

  Penelope made a quick decision to let Brad share what she’d found out at the archives, so she shook her head.

  Rosabel sat down again. “But there’s a matter of Brice’s wallet, which is now empty, and he’s swearing Harvey took the money. Harvey’s swearing he didn’t, and Jill Jerome is backing him up, and now everybody hates everybody again.” She went off in a fit of giggles. “Someday I’m going to write a book.”

  “At least nobody killed anybody,” Penelope said.

  Brad picked Rosabel up later but took his pie with him. “I’ve got paperwork,” he told Penelope.

  “You locked them all up?”

  “Until they’re sober anyway.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for supper, Mother. I’ll talk to you later.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The next day, when Penelope met Mary Lynn for lunch at the Garden Spot, she noticed Jill Jerome sitting across the restaurant. “Don’t tell me she’s still here,” Mary Lynn muttered.

  “Looks like it.”

  “I don’t care what she says, something’s going on between Brice and her. Too bad. Did you ever meet his wife?”

  “No. Don’t jump to conclusions, Mary Lynn.”

  “You did, didn’t you?”

  “Not necessarily.”

  Mary Lynn rolled her eyes and plopped into a chair, hanging her zebra-print bag on the back of it. “I guess nothing came of her accusation that Brice tried to do whatever it is he’s supposed to have tried to do.”

  Penelope laughed. “I guess not.” She thought of the scene in Miss Madeline’s room the night before and wished she could share it.”

  As soon as the waitress took their orders and left, Jill Jerome sashayed across the room—Penelope thought everyone would agree the woman sashayed—and stood beside the table. “Well, Mrs. Mayor and Mrs. B&B.”

  She’s still drunk, Penelope thought. She sniffed to catch the scent of alcohol, but it wasn’t present.

  “I’m stone cold sober, Mrs. Pembroke,” Jill said, dropping her voice. “I’m sure you heard about last night. It must be nice to have an in with the local police department.”

  Mary Lynn frowned across the table. “Last night?”

  “Never mind,” Penelope said. “Look, Miss Jerome, why don’t you just go back to Dallas? What’s keeping you here?”

  Jill’s crooked smile menaced the women. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Actually, I wouldn’t.”

  “My film turned up, by the way.”

  I bet it was never missing to begin with.

  “Film?” Mary Lynn asked. “Oh, those pictures you took upstairs at the store. What are you going to do with them?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. Or maybe you won’t. I’m willing to bet nobody in this antiquated town reads anything besides recipes and true love stories.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Penelope said. “Well, I’m glad the film turned up. Now you can…”

  “I can do what Wally set out to do.”

  “Which was?”

  “Make a bundle, of course. His editor has even agreed to let me write the story from Wally’s notes and use the photographs I took.”

  “I see.”

  Mary Lynn glared at Jill. “Just what is a story about a small-town pleasure parlor worth?” Her face flushed.

  “Plenty. I’d be willing to name a figure if your husband would like to make it worth my while not to write the story.”

  Penelope’s head snapped up. “That’s extortion, you know.”

  “Whatever. Go run to sonny boy and tell him. It’s my word against yours.”

  “I heard you, too,” Mary Lynn said.

  Jill laughed and walked away, hips swaying.

  “What could she possibly write that she’d think Harry would want to pay her not to write?” Penelope asked.

  “He’s resigned himself to the fact the story’s going to come out.”

  “His great-grandfather made his money in a saloon. So what?”

  “And from what went on upstairs.”

  “So what?”

  “If it was your family, you’d understand.”

  “Oh, for blessed Pete’s sake, Mary Lynn, nobody cares.”

  Mary Lynn sagged against the back of her chair. “Harry does.”

  “Harry needs to get a grip.”

  “I’ve told him that.”

  “Maybe there’s more he isn’t telling you.”

  “I think…Harry and I have always shared everything, Pen, but now…now, I don’t know.”

  ****

  Penelope left Mary Lynn at her car and walked to the library. As she passed the antique store, Brice hailed her from the door. She crossed the street reluctantly. “Hello, Brice.”

  “Do you have a minute?”

  “One or two.”

  He stood aside so I could precede him into the store. “I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I?”

  “I’d have to say so.”

  “I apologized to Hal and Harry.”

  “I heard.”

  “I guess you also heard I was picked up because Jill accused me of…”

  Penelope held up her hand to silence him. “I heard that, too.”

  “She didn’t exactly recant, but your son has let the matter drop.”

  “She’s not very reliable, is she?”

  “Worse than that, Penelope.”

  I don’t really want to hear this.

  “When we were in college, we were, well, an item. That’s before I ever met Darcy.”

  “An item.”

  He didn’t look at her. “I broke it off, when I figured she was working both sides of the fence with Wally Powers. He was going to be a big-time journalist, and she had aspirations of being the same only with photography.”

  “They both made it, I guess.”

  “She took the pictures for his first few articles, the one that drew attention to him as an investigative reporter, but she never felt she got enough credit—or money.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t think you do.” Brice perched on the edge of a battered desk. “She kept working for him, and he kept paying her just enough to keep her coming back, making promises that the next story would be the big one for her. It never happened. When she tried to branch out on her own, she couldn’t get much. Oh, she did enough business to make a living, but it wasn’t the kind of business she wanted.”

  “Photojournalism. Investigative journalism.�
�

  “Right.” He chewed his lip. “I didn’t exactly get Wally in on this on purpose. I ran into him in a bar in Little Rock right after I discovered what was upstairs. We talked over old times and both of us had too much to drink. When I told him what I’d found, he was full of plans to make it a big story. I think he thought he could dig up dirt on the families of people who lived here now.”

  “Like Miss Maude Pendleton?”

  “You heard about that, huh? I tried to warn him.”

  “He’s lucky she didn’t beat him to death with that ancient umbrella.” She caught her breath. “Or maybe he’d have been better off if she’d run him all the way out of town.”

  “You don’t…didn’t… run off Wally Powers. Nothing scared him. Believe me, I tried to get him to leave when he started getting on the wrong side of people.”

  “Didn’t you know he’d do that?”

  “I guess I did, Penelope, but…I don’t know, I had this thing about Harry. Stupid, wasn’t it?”

  “Very.”

  “Wally hung onto this like a dog with a bone, and when Jill showed up—I hadn’t seen her since we graduated from college, at least not up close.”

  “Okay.”

  “She made a play for me right off the bat. I told her it wasn’t going to happen.”

  Penelope leaned close to Brice. “Tell me the truth, Brice, do you know more about Wally Powers’ murder than you’re telling the police?”

  He swallowed hard. “I can’t answer that.”

  “Bradley’s no hick-town cop,” Penelope continued. “He’s had training out the wahzoo. He’ll figure it out eventually.”

  Brice stood up. “Maybe he already has.”

  She turned and saw her son advancing toward the door of the shop.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “What are you doing here, Mother?”

  “I asked her in,” Brice said.

  “I was on my way to the library.”

  “Uh-huh, well, why don’t you go on over there.”

  She nodded. “Sure. Listen, Brice, what I told you…”

  “I heard you.”

  “Well, then, goodbye and good luck.”

  She didn’t look back as she left the shop, at least not until she reached the library. Then she turned to see if Bradley was bringing Brice out in handcuffs, but the sidewalk remained empty, so she went inside.

  “How’s Shana?”

  Shana glanced up from the books she was putting on the re-shelving cart. “I’ve been better.”

  “What’s the news from Peter?”

  “He has a court hearing next week. His lawyer can’t find anything bad about Tabby’s grandparents so he can fight fire with fire.”

  “Sam looked them up, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. He said Peter knew what he needed to know.”

  “He did? Peter didn’t mention that.”

  “Sam said they—the Bainbridges—have money, too.”

  “I know that, but Peter’s not hurting for money. He has a nice house, and Tabby has everything she needs and more.”

  “Is the hearing before the same judge who told the grandparents to buzz off before?”

  “No, I wish it was. Peter says this judge is big on grandparents’ rights, so it’s going to be an uphill battle.” Shana sighed and shook her head. “We’ll just have to tough it out. I saw you go in the antique shop a while ago. What’s up?”

  “Brice has a guilty conscience and needed to spill his guts.”

  “Did he?”

  “Not all of them. Then Bradley came in.”

  “Uh-oh. What does that mean?”

  “No clue. Listen, Shana, this Jill Jerome—what did you think of her when she came in wanting to photograph those boxes?”

  “The boxes that left here in a van yesterday, by the way.”

  “Thank goodness. I’m glad to see the last of them.”

  “Me, too.”

  “So what did you think of her? Woman to woman.”

  “She was nice enough, I guess. Didn’t argue with me when I told her she couldn’t take pictures.”

  “That’s all?”

  “What are you after?”

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t trust her. I can’t figure out why she’s still hanging around. She’s going to get herself in trouble accusing people of things and then…”

  “What did she accuse someone of?”

  “Never mind. I shouldn’t be talking about it.”

  “Inside information, huh?”

  “Sort of. Listen, don’t sit around moping. Come over any time. Daddy likes to see you.”

  “I’d hate to crash a meal with Brad and Rosabel.”

  “I thought you and Rosabel had gotten pretty well acquainted.”

  “We have. I like her, and she and Brad are perfect for each other. I just don’t want to horn in.”

  “You’re like family, too, Shana. I’ve got a vested interest in you.”

  “You’re weird, Penelope.”

  “I’ve been called worse. Come over tonight.”

  “I might. I’ll call you.”

  “I’m going to walk back to my car at the Garden Spot and see if Brad’s still in the store with Brice. See you later.”

  ****

  From the opposite side of the street, Penelope couldn’t see into Brice’s shop, but as she reached the corner, she thought she glimpsed someone hurrying from the back of the building. The man wore overalls and lumbered toward a battered pickup, got in, and drove away.

  Harvey Hadden, sneaking around the old feed store? What’s he looking for? What was Madeline Hadden to him? Did she leave something up there…Penelope’s heart seemed to stop. He’s looking for something, I just know it. Maybe that’s why Jill is still here. Maybe she’s looking, too. But what? And how did either one of them get the idea there was something up there?

  She backed out and headed west toward Possum Hollow without knowing why. Harvey’s truck belched a fog of black exhaust as he rattled along the county road in front of her.

  When he turned off onto a dirt trail by a grey metal mailbox with Hadden scrawled on the side, she stopped. Why am I following him? I knew where he was going, which was home, and I sure don’t want to go down to his house. Nancy Drew might sleuth around in unknown places, but not Penelope Pembroke.

  She made a U-turn and headed back to town. She could see the sign reading Amaryllis AR, Pop. 5,492, when a shadow crept through the windows. She turned the wheel sharply toward the right, heard the squeal of tires, and felt the SUV go airborne.

  ****

  Still not sure what had just happened, she sat in the patrol car watching Fred Mason’s wrecker pull her vehicle from the Lester Bailey’s cornfield. “What were you doing out here, Mrs. Pembroke?” Parnell Garrett put his face in the window and waited.

  “You wouldn’t like my answer, so I’m not going to say anything.”

  He looked at her much as a parent trying to decide just how naughty his child had been. “Brad’s going to ask, and he’s going to want an answer.”

  “He won’t get one either.”

  Parnell sighed and straightened up as Fred came across the road. “No damage as far as I can tell. You want me to tow it in and look it over?”

  “Yes,” Penelope said before Parnell could reply.

  “That is, if Officer Garrett doesn’t mind taking me home.”

  Parnell waved Fred on his way and came around to the driver’s side. “Mrs. Pembroke, maybe you ought to let Doc Teller check you out. You look kinda pale to me.”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Do you at least want to tell me how you ended up in that cornfield facing the wrong way?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

  “Somebody run you off the road?”

  “I…”

  Parnell started the car. “I’m taking you to the clinic.”

  “No, just take me home, please, Parnell. I…” A wave of nausea swept over her. She put her head between
her knees and took a deep breath.

  “The clinic,” he repeated.

  She was signing the insurance release when Brad came in. “Mother, what in the world happened?”

  “I don’t know. I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”

  “How did you end up in Bailey’s cornfield?”

  “I got hungry.”

  “Ha ha.” He glanced through the half-open door at Dr. Teller. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine, Brad. Shaken up a bit, that’s all. She’ll be sore tomorrow in places she doesn’t even know she has today.”

  Penelope’s eyes raked the doctor with disgust.

  “Go home and get some rest, Mrs. Pembroke. Take some aspirin if you have it.”

  “All right, Mother,” Brad said as he took her arm, “while I drive you home, you can tell me exactly what happened.”

  On the short drive, she told him about Harvey Hadden.

  “He probably saw you and followed you back to town.”

  “I don’t know, Bradley. I don’t even know why I went out there.”

  “I don’t either. You’re smarter than that.”

  “He’s looking for something up there.”

  “In the old feed store? He’s a hundred years late, isn’t he?”

  “I don’t know, but mark my words, he’ll be back.”

  “We’ll keep an eye out. Meanwhile, you go in the house and stay there, and I’ll see you get your car back tomorrow.” He coasted to a stop at the curb and leaned across her to open the door. “If I didn’t have to get back to the station, I’d come in.”

  “It’s probably better you don’t.”

  “I’ll let Pawpaw chew on you.”

  “He will, too. Thanks for the ride, Bradley.”

  ****

  Sam grinned at her from his perch on the bar stool by the cabinet. “Hello, Nell.” Then he took a closer look. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing. Where’s Daddy?”

  “Gone to his room to get something to put in this cola.” He held up his glass.

  “I’m going upstairs to take a bath.”

  “In the middle of the afternoon?” He slid off the bar stool and blocked her way. “Spit it out.”

  “Here we go, Sam.” Jake, holding up a bottle of fine, pale Scotch, stopped and took in the stand-off. “Nellie?”