“What do you mean?”
“Well, what do we really know about Peter Fleming? Only that he’s a good looking, wealthy, book store owner with a bad back and peculiar taste in food. Think about it. He’s been at his shop each time something’s happened. He was there the night of the fire. His car was outside the night you were attacked. And now we find out that he was there Wednesday night, too. And all of this started happening after he bought the bookstore. I just don’t think we know him all that well. I mean, what the heck is he doing in that shop all night long?”
“Taking inventory and cataloging. That can take a long time,” answered Rose.
“I don’t think so. Hazel kept great records and she stocked the shelves like a library. A place for every book and every book in its place.” Hazel Monroe was the previous owner of the Book Renew. “And why is he sleeping there when he’s got a beautiful home of his own?”
“I know those are all good questions, Daisy. But I can’t believe Peter is responsible for the pranks. He’s not like that. The pranks are childish. And Peter is anything, but childish. And I am sure he did not attack me. But now you’ve made me wonder why he spends so many nights there.” Rose shook her head. “I wish you hadn’t said anything. You’ve got me doubting him. And I think I’m getting to like him a little. At least, when he’s not being a jerk.”
“I know. And he’s probably a really nice man.” Daisy smiled and added, “You know what we could do?”
“No, we couldn’t,” Rose said in a steely voice.
“Sure we could. We just try to find out what he’s doing there at night. We wouldn’t even have to break in, just look in the window. A little peeping never hurt anyone. Think about it.”
“I don’t need to think about it. He and I are going out again next weekend. I’ll just ask him why he’s there all the time.”
Daisy demanded, “And what if the answer is he’s a blackmailing S.O.B. who killed Peggy Merritt and whacked you over the head? I don’t think you should go out again until we know more about him.”
“More about whom?” asked Angela Forrest as she entered the kitchen.
Both women jumped and Rose yelped, “Mother, why are you sneaking up on us?”
“I wasn’t sneaking. I can’t help it if I’m a quiet walker. I yoo-hooed in the stairwell, but I guess you didn’t hear me.” She looked down at the paper on the table and said, “Oh my, that’s unfortunate. I appear to be leering at that man. Who is he?”
“He’s supposed to be the bobber.”
“Well, he’s not! Bob the Knob is thinner. And that man has a tattoo on his leg. Old Bob doesn’t.”
She studied the picture for a moment and said, “It looks like a giant spider, doesn’t it? I wonder why people get tattoos. I’ve never really understood it. And it’s not because I’m older. I didn’t like them when I was young, either”
“My only tattoo question is how you know the bobber doesn’t have one,” Daisy said.
“Oh, I got a good look at him as he ran across the bridge the day the post office woman was killed. Remember, Tom and I tried to catch him. We didn’t, of course. But I clearly saw his back and there was no tattoo on his leg.”
Rose picked up the paper and jabbed a finger at the picture. “Look at this. Jeff Moody took that picture. The article doesn’t say why this guy might be the flasher. He just added a random photo to the story. That little weasel is making it up as he goes along.”
Daisy shrugged. “He’s got to write something and I suppose guesswork is about the best he can do.”
“Well, no guesswork for me!” Angela said as she reached into the enormous tote that she was carrying and pulled out her Super-Soaker. “I’ve got just the thing to catch that pervert. I’ve put red dye in my squirt gun. I’m going to give him a scarlet letter!”
Chapter Sixteen
Saturday morning was absolutely beautiful. The sky was clear and a light breeze was rustling the leaves. A late night thunderstorm had brought in a cool front and the temperature felt more like late April than late June. Daisy was kneeling beside the patio replacing the zinnias that had been torn out and cursing under her breath. “All my beautiful flowers. If I ever catch this guy he’s going to wish he hadn’t…”
“Good morning, Daisy. What are you doing there? It’s late in the season to be putting flowers in,” said Mrs. Hudson.
Daisy jumped. “I didn’t see you there!” She stood up and wiped her hands on her shorts. “I’m replacing my zinnia garden. Someone destroyed it the other night.”
“Oh my, what happened?”
Daisy moved to the porch and invited Mrs. H. to sit down. “Some idiot tried to flood our house and when they couldn’t, they soaked all the furniture and pulled up my flowers. So I’m putting some more in. I don’t much like the white, but I guess I was lucky Homestead Gardens still had any zinnias at all.”
“You do love those flowers, don’t you?”
“Yes. My dad used to plant them when I was little. He wasn’t much of a gardener, but he could always get the zinnias to grow. How’s everything with you? No one’s been bothering you, have they? No stupid pranks?”
“No dear. Not a thing has happened at my house. I’m so sorry for you and Rose. I wonder why you’re being picked on. There must be a reason, don’t you think? Are you and your sister being nosy again?”
Daisy said. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Mrs. Hudson smiled. “I don’t think your aunt would have approved of you two getting involved in things like murder.”
Daisy looked at Mrs. Hudson sitting there on the porch in her housecoat and slippers and smiled. “You remind me of Aunt Lucy sitting there.”
Mrs. Hudson laughed, “Do I? I guess old ladies all start to look alike, don’t we? I’m so glad that hot spell broke. I thought I’d never be able to get out of the house again.”
They heard barking and turned to see Ron Tucker, walking two little dogs across his yard to Daisy’s back gate. Daisy grinned and said, “Ron, come on in. What have you got there?”
“Well, you know my Maggie.” A small white dog of uncertain parentage wagged her tail and beamed at Daisy and Mrs. H. “She and I wanted to introduce you and Malcolm to our new friend, Rex Harrison.”
A beautiful little brown and white English bulldog puppy was standing close to Ron’s leg.
Rose started to call Malcolm, but he was already wriggling out of the dog door. He ran over to Maggie to say hello, but stopped short and stood staring at the puppy. He nudged the little guy’s head with his own and did a bit of rather intimate doggie sniffing. Then he and Maggie seemed to come to some sort of agreement and they took off running around the yard with Rex Harrison scampering along in back of them.
Daisy laughed, “He’s beautiful, Ron.
Ron smiled. “Maggie picked him out. He’s got a pedigree as long as your arm. She and I had talked about it. I’m getting up there and so is she. Whoever goes first, we don’t want the other to be alone. Isn’t he dandy?”
“He certainly is. But you and Maggie shouldn’t be talking about going anywhere. You’re both full of life!”
Ron turned to Mrs. Hudson and said, “Cute, isn’t he?”
“I’ll give you that, but you keep him out of my yard. Puppies like to dig and I don’t want my tomatoes disturbed!”
“Rose, wait until you see Mr. Tucker’s new puppy. He’s as cute as he can be.”
Rose had just finished a sale and was getting a cold drink. “What kind did he get this time? Mixed mutt with a suggestion of poodle?”
“No! It’s a purebred English bulldog!” Ron Tucker had always had a series of, as he called them, hobo hounds. Some were strays that he took in. Others he found at the pound or the vets.
Rose’s eyebrows shot up. “Great Dane in the morning! Where did he get the money to do that? A pedigreed bulldog! They cost a small fortune. I’ve always thought Ron was short of cash. I know the vet gives him a discounted rate. I overheard them talking one day when
I took Malcolm in.”
“You’re right. He hardly ever runs the air conditioning. And now I remember Lucy telling me she knew his house was paid for, but that his only income is social security. So how the heck does he afford another dog, much less a little blueblood like Rex?”
The shop door opened and Tonya came in. She said, “I just saw your ex take Brad Douglas in for questioning. I suppose it’s just questioning. He wasn’t handcuffed, but he was put in the back seat of the police car.”
“Really?” said Daisy. “I wonder if Bill’s found out something new.”
Rose said, “Tonya, has Tom told you anything?”
“Not a thing. The state guys don’t like to share with lowly locals. Oh, but he asked me to tell you he heard from his friend in North Carolina and he’ll call you tonight and tell you what he found out.”
Rose said, “Great! Hey, why don’t you come for dinner? I need guinea pigs for a new cocktail I’m working on.”
“I’d love to. We didn’t have anything planned. What can I bring?”
“Not a thing,” said Daisy. “I’m running out to the store in a minute. We’ll just have something easy on the grill. Rose, why don’t you ask Peter and I’ll see what Marc’s doing.
At seven that evening Rose was in the kitchen mixing a pitcher of cocktails. She turned to Daisy and said, “Peter seemed a bit surprised by the invitation. I think he likes more advance notice. But he’s coming.”
Daisy was mixing an olive oil, lime juice and garlic marinade for the chicken breasts. She said, “He really is formal, isn’t he? Marc’s coming, too. He is never formal and never passes up a free meal. Does Peter talk about his family?”
Rose asked, “Some. Why?”
“I just wondered if his whole family is as stuffy as he is.”
“Oh. I believe his mother is one of those society women who never put a foot wrong. She sounds pretty intimidating and he’s an only child. Didn’t talk about Papa, except to call him Papa. He did mention his ex-wife, but only to say she enjoyed escargot.”
Daisy poured the marinade over a bowl of chicken breasts and put it in the refrigerator. “Hmm.”
Rose handed her a glass and said, “I think this will loosen him up.”
Daisy sipped and said, “Mmm. Tasty. What is it?”
“I call it a Good Old Summertime. Vodka and fruit. I went a little heavy on the vodka.”
Daisy handed Rose six ears of corn and said, “Well then, before you and I get too looped, we’d better finish fixing dinner. Shuck these and I’ll make the slaw.”
The evening was lovely. They were able to eat on the patio for the first time in weeks. The corn was sweet, the weather was breezy and the cocktails went down quite easily.
Rose and Peter went in to get the dessert. She came back carrying an apple pie.
Peter had a bottle of champagne and glasses. As he uncorked it he said, “To celebrate.”
Daisy asked, “What are we celebrating?”
“Wonderful company. And my escape from the clutches of the law. Your ex-husband seems to have cleared me as a suspect in that woman’s murder. I spent a few hours talking to him this morning and he appears to be satisfied with my alibi - I’m shocked that I’m using that term - for the night in question.”
“And what was it? Your alibi?” asked Daisy.
“I was at a seminar in Baltimore that Monday and Tuesday. Apparently, Detective Greene finally tracked down some other attendees who vouched for my being there.”
“Well, great! But were you really worried? You hardly knew the woman. You didn’t even have a motive, did you?”
“Of course, I was worried. It’s unpleasant to be suspected of a thing like that. I suppose it was because she and I had that little spat that I came under suspicion. But his attention seems to have shifted to Mr. Douglas.”
Marc lifted his glass. He said, “Here’s to not being a suspect. I know the feeling well.” Marc had been the number one suspect in last year’s little murder mystery.
After dinner, Daisy asked Tom to help her with the coffee. As they waited for Mr. Coffee to do its job, she asked him what he’d found out from his friend in North Carolina.
“Well, it’s not much of a mystery. Just kind of sad, really. According to the report, Margaret Dove and a group of friends were in Kitty Hawk for a week of vacation. The evening she went missing Margaret told them that she was going out to dinner with a man she’d met that day. She said she’d be back by ten.
“The girls couldn’t remember much about him. Margaret left at seven and never came back. She had her swim suit in her bag. The girls called the police when she hadn’t returned by one in the morning. The police assumed that she had just spent the night with this guy, but her friends were adamant that Margaret wouldn’t do that.
“And because Margaret was known to swim alone, the cops didn’t wait the usual forty-eight hours before starting the search. They didn’t find her or any trace of the man she might have been meeting.”
Daisy shook her head, “That’s terrible. Her poor mother. Not knowing what happened to her.”
“Actually, her remains were found a month later. Some fishermen found her all the way down the island in Ocracoke wedged in the sand under a pier. They had to use DNA to identify her. Cause of death was drowning, but she was wearing a sundress. They concluded that she probably was walking in the surf and got caught in a rip current and drowned. Case closed.”
“So they never found her date?”
Tom said, “No. Not even sure if she ever met up with him.”
“And she wasn’t robbed or anything like that?”
Tom leaned against the counter, looked at Daisy and asked, “Robbed? Nothing in the report. Why would you ask that? Daisy, why do you really want to know about Margaret Dove?”
“We’re going to North Carolina in August and I remembered the old story and wondered if she’d ever been found.”
Tom looked at her for a moment. “Okay. I know you’d tell me if this is something I need to know. Right?”
“Of course.”
Late the next morning as Rose was setting the table for lunch with Mattie and Sally, Daisy told her everything Tom had reported.
“That’s so sad. But it doesn’t sound like a mystery, just a terrible accident.”
Daisy shook her head, “I know. But there’s the problem of the baseball card. It’s really bugging me. How did Brad end up with it?”
“Beats me. Maybe he knows the family. He could be a cousin or something.” Rose looked thoughtful as she set a vase with red and white roses on the table. “You know, Margaret Dove’s mother might have the answer.”
“We could hardly call her out of the clear blue and start grilling her,” said Daisy.
“We couldn’t, no. But I’ll bet Mother could. She’s so good with people. They just open up to her. She could just tell Mrs. Dove that we found the baseball card.”
“And that we don’t have it anymore.”
“One bridge at a time.”
They heard a commotion in the stairwell. Malcolm, who had been eying the strawberry pie sitting on the sideboard, jumped up and started barking like a little dog possessed. Roscoe hopped off the couch and looked at the door suspiciously. It swung open and Angela came breezing in, holding her squirt gun above her head, followed by Percy. She was laughing hilariously. “I got him!!!! I got him!!!! I got the little pissant!”
“What?” Rose and Daisy cried in unison.
“I was just getting out of the car and I looked up the street and saw that man jogging along. On a Sunday morning, if you please, when really he should be at home meditating on the state of his morals.” She patted the squirt gun fondly. “This baby has really got some range. He turned as soon as he saw me, but I got him on the backs of his legs as he ran away.”
“Mother, you’re crazy! He could have come after you.”
“Oh no. Percy was with me. He’d never let anyone hurt me, would you Percy?” Percy looked at her adoringl
y, then chased the cat out of the room.
Angela continued, “So now the fool does have a tattoo on the back of his legs! It dripped down into his shoes. He’s a marked man.”
“Well, for the moment. But he’ll wash it off as soon as he can.” asked Rose.
“Oh no, he won’t. I bought this dye on-line. It’s some sort of commercial stuff that just will not wash off. See, I got a little on my thumb when I was loading the gun and it’s still bright red!” She held out her thumb which was, indeed, bright red.
Daisy started laughing. “He’s going to rub himself raw trying to get rid of it!”
“Well, it won’t work. I tried. Soap, nail polish remover, Comet, Oxy-Clean, nothing gets it off.”
Rose said, “Then please put that gun away before you ruin something. Well, now we just have to keep our eyes open for a sleaze ball with red dye on his legs.”
Angela’s eyes were shining. “We’ll find him. I know it!”
“I’m sure we will,” said Daisy. “You’re a terror with that gun. I think you should let Tom Willis know right away. He really wants to get this guy.”
“I will. I’ll call him after lunch. He’ll be so excited!”
Daisy said, “I’ll bet.” The doorbell rang. “That must be the ladies. Well, here goes. Remember, we’re trying to ferret out information about the old days without letting each of them know that the other is being blackmailed.”
Rose added, “And we really are trying to get ready for the Fourth. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Chapter Seventeen
Mattie and Sally both looked much happier than the last time the sisters had seen them. Mattie took Rose aside and whispered, “Nothing. I haven’t sent any money and he hasn’t done a thing. But it doesn’t really matter anyway. I talked to Frank and told him everything. He doesn’t care a bit about what I did before I met him. He was just upset that I went through it all alone.”
She smiled, “Makes me remember why I fell in love with him. But, boy, when he started talking about this blackmailer! I’ve never seen him so mad.”
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