I needed two things besides cat food: First, I wanted more dope about the Rileys. Second, but more important, it was past time to find what linked Vera and Muriel. Archie wouldn’t let a single encounter with another human being pass without getting some information and neither should I.
So who would know something about Vera and Muriel in high school? Their friends, of course, but who had they been? With the exception of Eddie, I’d never heard Vera mention even one friend from her past. In fact, she never mentioned Eddie either. He was the one maintaining that one-sided friendship. Certainly, she had no friends outside of me and my family and the signora in Harrison Falls.
Mindy and Tom were the people I’d found who were closest to Muriel. That wasn’t very close. They had told me about the hit-and-run death of the stepfather, Pete Delaney. I was grateful, but at an impasse.
Vera was fifty-five. Muriel about the same, I figured. I could talk to people that age and see what turned up. I knew from conversations with Vera that she had gone to private school in Switzerland but had returned to graduate from high school in Harrison Falls. That must have been a rough ride, I’d thought at the time. I figured the time frame was when the Van Alst Factory was failing at the hands of Leonard Van Alst. Vera had adored her father, but the rest of the world seemed to think he’d been a fool when it came to running a business. Now that I knew he’d also had a mistress on the side and that mistress was Muriel’s mother, the plot was thick all right.
So they both had gone to school in Harrison Falls, even if Vera had only been there briefly. I’d have to talk to people in that age group. How hard could that be? As I’ve mentioned, Harrison Falls is a small place and people have long and bitter memories.
I paused and my eyes opened. Detective Jack Jones. He was also in his midfifties, unless I missed my guess. I’d figured back in the bar that might explain his chumminess with the Rileys, as Frank had probably been at school with him.
What to do next?
Of course. Archie would go find a teacher. He’d charm that teacher (almost certainly a woman) until she was ready to tell him anything.
I would have to do the same. Naturally, anyone who’d been a teacher when Vera and Muriel were in attendance would be long retired. Maybe even long, long retired. But how to find out who?
Was it merely a coincidence that Walter picked that moment to nudge my leg and look at me with googly eyes?
“What?” I said.
Walter did a little dance.
“It’s not like you would know any retired teachers, Walter. So are you just angling for a T-R-E-A-T? You haven’t had one since we walked down Main Street.”
Walter looked so disappointed that it was all I could do not to laugh. “Who do you know, Walter? You say you’re friends with anyone who has food, like Lainie and Phyllis? Oh, Phyllis was a teacher. Nice one, Walter.” Walter just kept dancing; it was almost like he really knew what I was talking about. Cobain looked on from his position on my bed, hope gleaming in his liquid brown eyes. “Okay, fellas. Let’s go downtown. And no drama when I pick up cat food.”
Both dogs were ready. Cobain lumbered to his feet and both of them stood wagging at the door, promising to be good, until I hooked up their leashes.
First, we strolled over to Bridge Street to the Poocherie to fulfill my promise to the cats, before I started my detecting duties. I was glad to see Jasmine and her pink-tipped hair and metallic smile this time. Walter and Cobain were thrilled to be there. The place was an olfactory paradise for them. While I was talking to Jasmine, I could hear Cobain’s tail thumping. Walter’s tail doesn’t reach to the floor, but it was wagging. Hope springs eternal if you’re a dog in a store full of treats.
“What happened to you?” Jasmine squeaked.
“What do you mean?”
“Your face.”
“My face?” I didn’t expect to be insulted and, while I may not be the reigning Miss Universe, as a rule people don’t think there’s much wrong with my face.
“Bruises.”
“Oh. Right. I got hit by a truck. Did you hear about that on the news?”
“I never listen to the news. But bummer. Are you okay, Jordan? Except for your face, I mean.”
I glanced around for a mirror, but as it was a pet store there weren’t many, except for the one in the parrot’s cage and I wasn’t desperate enough to try that. I had to let the bruise comments go and seize the opportunity.
“Yes,” I said. “Not that the cops have been any help.”
“I’m not surprised,” Jasmine said. “They just try to keep us down.”
I chose not to explore where that might lead. Once I’d purchased a couple of bags of Blue Wilderness, I showed her the picture of the Rileys. “I think these are the guys who drove the truck that hit me. Do you know them?”
She stared at the printout and scratched her pink-tipped head. “Yeah, they do look familiar. I’ve seen them here on the street. Not long ago.”
“Really? They drive a red truck with FXR on the side.”
The door opened, the bell over it jingled and the store filled with chattering dog walkers. Jasmine glanced at them, just as the tail of an energetic golden retriever knocked over a display of cans. I’d lost her.
As she headed over to redo the display, I wrote down my cell number. “Please call me if you remember. Any time of day or night. I’d appreciate it. They’re dangerous.”
“Sure thing. Grab a couple of treats for your pooches.”
I had to leave the dogs outside the Sweet Spot while I popped in. I told myself not to be overwhelmed by all the wonderful candy and chocolates and fudge. The owner’s name was Rachel and she was far too polite to mention my bruises. I did tell her that I’d been hit by a truck and showed her the photos. She shook her head when I showed her the photos of the Rileys. Rachel was probably in her late thirties. She’d come to Harrison Falls with her husband. I figured she wouldn’t know either Muriel or Vera. I did ask anyway.
“I wish I could help. We live over on the other side of Grandville. I don’t know many people outside the shop. But Phyllis Zelman at the Food Drop knows everyone.”
“We’re on our way there next. I’d like to get some of that fudge. Might need to give someone a little gift.”
Rachel wrapped up the fudge, walked to the shop door with me and produced a couple of dog treats from her pocket. “Good doggies, waiting so patiently outside.”
“Oh, they’ve already had—oh well.”
All I heard was a pair of gulps.
Next stop, the Food Drop.
There was no sign of Phyllis, but I walked through calling out her name. Walter galloped ahead and stood by a closed door and tried to wag himself airborne. Finally there was a rustling and what sounded like muffled swearing from a back room. I stuck my head in and spotted Phyllis wrestling with a large garbage bag filled with canned food.
Her round black-framed glasses had slipped down her nose and she uttered an expression not really suited to a retired teacher running a food bank.
That took me by surprise and I’m afraid that I laughed. I also offered to help.
“I wish people would use their brains,” she said. “Boxes are a lot easier.”
“Right.” I helped her wrestle the bag of cans over to the nearest shelf.
“What happened to your face? And what does the other guy look like?”
I was getting used to questions about my bruises. If this was the price of information, so be it. I whipped out the photos of the Rileys. “They look like this.”
Phyllis pursed her lips. “It figures.”
“You knew them?”
“I knew the father. He was a hell-raiser in school.”
“Did you teach him?”
“He didn’t last that long. But he was always a bit of a thug. Had a few brushes with the law. Not a nice man, and
as they say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“I’m looking for information about either of them. I know they were driving a truck that hit me. That’s why I have a bruised face and it’s lucky for me that I’m not dead. The one witness is afraid to come forward.”
“Yes. If they’d hit you with a truck, what else would they do? Be careful who you talk to about them in this town.”
“But what can I do? I need to find out about them.”
“You can offer to help me a bit more.”
“Done. I only have a few minutes now, but I’ll give you whatever time I have before Thanksgiving.”
“Good. Now help me move those boxes. They weigh a ton. You’d think we could get a few men to help around here.”
I had an idea that she’d driven some volunteers away, but thanks to Vera, I was used to ignoring the rudeness of grumpy people. It just rolled right off. You had to see the person underneath. In this case it was a grumpy person knocking herself out to provide food for people who needed help.
“Will do,” I said, “But I do need a favor.”
“Make it good. You’re interrupting my work.”
“It is important.”
“Fine. Don’t waste time. Out with it.”
“I am looking for someone who might have been on the staff at Harrison Falls High School when Vera Van Alst went there.” I had already decided that I wasn’t going to toss Muriel’s name around because I knew the hard way that could lead to trouble. Of course, I trusted Phyllis, but who knew who she’d talk to.
“Why? Is it about Frank Riley again?”
“No, it’s someone else. It’s . . . I need to find out something. It’s important.”
“Then why don’t you just ask the Van Alst woman herself?”
This was my opportunity to say that I couldn’t because I’d been fired, but I didn’t think that would help my case. “It’s a surprise.” That was true. If I found out any useful information and used it to liberate the Van Alst legacy, that would be a very nice surprise.
“A surprise?”
“Yes.” I put on my most honest look; after all, I am going straight. “Trust me. She’ll be very happy.”
“If you say so. I never taught her.”
“Of course not. You’re not old enough. I thought you might know some of the older teachers who were there back in the seventies.”
“Are you trying to get on my good side? Because it will take a lot more than that.” She pushed the round black-framed glasses back up her nose for the third time.
“I’m sorry. I . . .”
She glowered.
I finally got it. “You mean you were there?” Apparently, Phyllis was older than I thought. I’d put her in her late sixties and in good shape at that.
“Don’t look so surprised. It was easier to get a job then. I was a young graduate and thought I’d give teaching a try. I started at Harrison Falls High and I ended up retiring from there thirty-five years later.”
“Wow. I mean, that’s great.”
“Not really. I didn’t have the adventures I might have had if I’d gone further afield or continued my education.”
“But you made a difference for a lot of kids.”
“If you say so.”
Oh boy. Vera liked to use the same expression. I gave my usual answer. “I do say so.”
I thought I saw a small twitch at the corner of Phyllis’s mouth. “So do you remember Vera as a student?”
She rolled her eyes. “What do you think?
“Um, right. Hard to forget even then?”
“Oh, nothing like she is now, of course.”
“Have you seen her recently?”
“No. We don’t move in the same social circles.”
“Well, Vera doesn’t really move in any social circles. She stays home. She’s stuck in that wheelchair and her interactions are either with the staff or with people selling or buying books.”
“Sounds dreary.”
“It works for her. It’s kind of fascinating. I must say I like the book collecting world too. But anyway, you haven’t been in touch for a long time.”
“Can we hurry this up? I have a lot to do. Boxes to move and all that.”
“I am helping you. Just let me make sure the dogs don’t escape. So, back to Vera, what do you remember about her?”
“Very intelligent and way ahead of the others academically. Socially? An awkward girl. They wasted their money on that Swiss finishing school if you ask me. She had trouble fitting in. Of course, people hated the family like poison.”
“No big surprise. That must have been tough. Do you remember if she had a friend called Muriel? Muriel Delgado?”
Phyllis paused and put down the box she’d picked up and glared. I found myself rubbing my forehead as her eyes bored into my head. But I didn’t want to give up. “Do you remember Muriel?”
“Another one that you couldn’t forget if you tried.”
That was still true. However, I wasn’t sure that Muriel would have had a profile like the prow of a ship, eyes like a hawk and the power to intimidate back then. I doubted she’d swanned through high school in a swirl of black garments, sowing fear in her wake. “What do you remember about her?”
“Not that she was a friend of Vera’s. That’s for sure because—” She stopped abruptly and said, “That’s really enough.”
“Enough? Why enough? What bothered you about her?”
“It’s none of your business, that’s what. It was all just rumors. I can’t be bothered with rumors.”
Phyllis always was one to play it straight. As much as I admired that about her, I found it inconvenient in this case.
“Did you actually teach Muriel?”
“I didn’t. She was Murphy’s cross to bear.” She snapped her lips together in a straight line. Not a word would escape. She narrowed her eyes at me, knowing I’d caused that to slip out. Murphy’s cross to bear.
I smiled.
“At any rate. Enough about all that. I’ll see if I can drum up some more volunteers, but everyone I know seems to have pressing business elsewhere. I’ll be at your disposal all day on Thanksgiving.”
Her eyes were still narrowed. “Why are you standing at an angle?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re . . .”
It was hard to hear her because my head was spinning. With a thump, I found myself sitting on the dusty floor. Phyllis was bending over me. Concern had replaced suspicion and disapproval.
“Not to worry,” I said. “Like I said, I was hit by a truck and there are some, um, lingering aftereffects. They’ve been telling me to take it easy, but I got horribly bored. And I was feeling pretty good.”
“I understand that. I had the same reaction after my heart attack.”
“Oh. Heart attack? I’m sorry. Should you be doing all this?” I didn’t know much about heart attacks. Although most of my family should be prime candidates, to my knowledge there’s no history of them in the Kellys. I’d always thought of heart attacks as being fatal. Apparently, Phyllis didn’t share my view on this.
“I’m right as rain now. Quadruple bypass made all the difference. And may I remind you that I’m not the one who collapsed on the floor.”
“Point taken,” I said.
Walter licked my ears and Cobain laid his head in my lap. I found myself perking up immediately. I said, “That’s quite something to recover from.”
“It was a hurdle,” she said.
“Did you have lots of help and support? Relatives nearby?”
“I have no relatives, but my friends were there for me.”
Somehow I hadn’t thought of Phyllis as a person with a lot of friends.
She must have read my mind. “The Retired Teachers’ Club is a great source of friendship. Do you th
ink I spent my time alone here because I don’t have a friend in the world?”
“What? No. I just wondered. Maybe because my own support system seems to have evaporated. Not that I want to sound whiny. I had a dizzy spell. You had a quadruple bypass.”
She snorted. “Well, my friends were great. We meet every Sunday for brunch at George’s Diner. They’ll be there now. I’m too busy this month, but I’ll be back to it as soon as Thanksgiving’s over. And most of them will help with the dinner, before, after or during.”
That was excellent. I’d be on my way.
“Can I drive you home?” she said. Underneath the crisp and crusty manner, she was a softie who didn’t want the world to know it.
“Thank you, but I really need the exercise to clear my head. And there are the dogs. I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving now. I wasn’t before. I realize that I am lucky in so many ways.”
I took my time walking home, with the detour to George’s Diner. It was one of those old-fashioned types, with good predictable food and servers who have been there for thirty years and know your name. I have a soft spot for establishments with bright neon signs on the windows.
Dogs weren’t allowed in, of course, so I hitched my two to the bench right outside and told them to behave.
Flo was the server. Flo was somewhere in her midfifties, but she wasn’t taking those years lying down. Her hair was an unlikely bright copper and she still had the wings and mall bangs and two swoops of glittery eye shadow in a style she’d probably been wearing for decades. It didn’t look remotely natural, but it suited her. She was a naturally pretty woman with an air of kindness. Sure enough, Flo didn’t know my name yet but was pleased to help anyway.
“I’m looking for the retired teachers,” I said. “I need to speak to Miss Murphy.”
She pointed to the left-hand side of the restaurant, where raucous laughter rose from a long table at the end. “I think you might mean Mr. Murphy, hon,” she said. “Unless our Ed’s been keeping secrets.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “I don’t know him. Just assumed I was looking for a woman. Would you mind telling him I need to speak to him?”
The Wolfe Widow (A Book Collector Mystery) Page 18
