He quickly skimmed through Earl Woodbury’s account of what happened – all of which was pretty straightforward. On the top right-hand corner of the page was a picture of a distraught, albeit much younger Earl Woodbury. Next were the initial statements given by Earl’s wife, Shelley Woodbury, and the housekeeper, Mariam Eggleston. Both women, the sheriff noted, were too upset to offer very much information. Both claimed they didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary and neither heard the baby cry. They gave the same description of what baby Tiffany was wearing when they last saw her, which was a pink, zipped up sleeper.
Mariam Eggleston said she last saw Tiffany after dinner when Mrs. Woodbury took the child upstairs. Mariam did the dishes, straightened up a bit, and then went to her apartment to read a book. Mariam’s downstairs private quarters were on the other side of the house, so it was probable she didn’t hear anything.
Finally, there it was – the reason the sheriff suspected the housekeeper. When the sheriff checked Mariam’s room, he didn’t find a book laying open or closed - not near her chair, her sofa or even her bed. When he asked about it, Mariam seemed irritated. She said she heard Earl coming and put it back in the bookcase. When asked what kind of book it was, she said it was just a mystery and not a very interesting one.
Rod got up, went to the kitchen and poured himself a second cup of coffee. When he looked at the clock, it was well past time for him to call it a night, so he dumped the coffee out, turned off the pot and the lights, and went to bed.
For several minutes he lay awake staring at the ceiling. Why would anyone need to hide a book from their employer? He thought of a few possible reasons and then drifted off to sleep.
THAT NIGHT AFTER CLOSING the bar, Birdie washed all the makeup off her face, took a shower and then dressed in a sexy blue nightgown. Michael hadn’t shown up, but then the night was not yet over. Maybe he wouldn’t come this time. That would be nice. On the other hand, she hated waiting for people, especially Michael. By three-thirty she guessed he had other plans and went to bed.
Yet sleep did not easily come and when it did, she had an unbelievably frightening nightmare that made her gasp and sit straight up in bed. Drenched in sweat, she got up, went to the bathroom and washed her face. For a time, she simply stood there and stared at her reflection. Her beautiful face was showing its age, tiny crows-feet had already appeared in the corners of her eyes and the rings under them seemed to grow puffier every day.
Everyone got old. It was just that she was getting old without having a chance to truly live.
THE NIGHT BEFORE, TIFFANY found her hotel room to be much nicer than most of the discounted hotels and motels she’d stayed in so far – and it had free Wi-Fi. Delighted, she changed into pajamas, took the small, six round 380 caliber pistol out of her purse, laid it on the night table, and then took her laptop out of the case. She called her dad, was careful not to tell him where she was, and then spent hours talking to her friends on social media.
The next morning, she got up and got ready for the day. In the lobby downstairs, she bought a local paper, sat at a little table, ate a free pastry, and sipped a cup of free hot coffee. The help wanted ads in the small newspaper consisted of only one possibility, and that was at the used bookstore, just like the mechanic said. Finished with her breakfast, she rented the room for a second night and then stepped out into the warm, albeit bright, Iowa sunshine. She nodded to Earl, who was sitting on the bench watching her, and then headed in the opposite direction.
Tiffany took her time walking to the end of Main Street, peeked in the windows of the shops along the way, and then stopped short when she got to the mechanic’s garage. Lucky Ben Coulter had two vehicles inside his three-door garage and three more cars lined up outside next to his sleek black tow truck. Hers was the last car in line. Attached to the garage was a small office/shop combination with both a soda and a snack vending machine. Various car parts, a case of oil, and a new battery was displayed in the picture window.
When he finally noticed her, Ben tossed a tool in his toolbox, grabbed a grease rag to clean his hands, and came out of the garage to talk to her. His coveralls looked practically new with only a few grease spots on both knees.
“Guess it’s going to be a while,” she said.
“I thought you needed to stick around and make a ton of money...”
Tiffany smiled. “So I can pay you a ton of money. That’s true, come to think of it.”
He noticed her looking at the two cars in front of hers. “Don’t worry, I only need to rotate the tires on the first one, and do an oil change on the second. Then I’ll see what it will take to fix yours.”
She peeked inside his open garage doors. “What about the two in there?”
“I’m waiting for parts on those. They treat you good at the hotel?”
Ben looked even more handsome in the daylight than his dimples made him look the evening before. She was so taken with the brown eyes that were fixed on hers, she had to look away. “You always up this early?”
“Nine o’clock is early?”
“It is when you’re on vacation. So how far away is this used bookstore?”
“Not far.”
“Within walking distance?” she asked.
Ben pointed. “Other end of Main Street on the right-hand side.”
“Know of any other jobs in town? It sounds boring.”
“Not unless you know how to change a tire.”
There was his dimpled smile again. Tiffany blocked the light out of her eyes with her hand so she could pretend not to be looking at him. “Sorry, not my kind of fun at all.”
“The bookstore it is, then. You might find it more interesting than you think.”
“In what way?”
“You’ll see.”
“Well, tell me this much at least.” She shifted her weight to the other foot. “Is the woman who owns it the kind that thinks she is entitled?”
He was stumped. “Entitled?”
“You know the type. Take Carl Slone for example. He was the school quarterback, all the girls loved him, and the administration thought he could do no wrong. He liked making weird noises in class and shooting rubber bands at the teacher when her back was turned. One day he broke his leg in three places and had to wear a cast from his thigh to his ankle. Man, oh man, he milked that injury for all it was worth. He got the guys to help him up and down the stairs, and got a different girl to carry his books and his lunch tray every day.”
Tiffany was serious as she told her story, but Ben couldn’t help but grin. “All the girls but you?”
“Me? Oh please. His girlfriend taught him a lesson though. While he was asleep, she painted his toenails bright red and when no one would take the polish off, not even his little sister, he found out he wasn’t as entitled as he thought.”
“Mariam is not that kind at all. She’s a little erratic sometimes, but I think you’ll like her. She loves books and does all she can to get kids to read.”
Someone shouted something Tiffany didn’t catch and when she turned to look across the street at the bank, several people were heading that direction. “What’s going on?”
“Not sure exactly.” Ben pulled his cellphone out, made a call and watched a man across the street answer his phone. “What’s going on? ...You’re kidding.” Ben laughed and then hung up.
“A run on the bank?”
“Even better. You met Michael last night. Well he and Jerry Terrell are in the middle of a feud. It’s a long story, but one is always trying to get something over on the other one. This time Jerry managed to change something on Michael’s billboard.”
“Michael’s billboard is in the window of the bank?”
“No, but there is a webcam that watches the billboard day and night, and nearly every business in town has a computer set up to see what’s on the webcam.”
Tiffany was intrigued. “What changed?”
“Well, yesterday Michael’s billboard promised 100% satisfaction guaranteed on
all Woodbury tiles, but someone changed the 100% to 50%.”
Tiffany’s smile widened and her eyes began to sparkle. “What do you think the other guy will do in retaliation?”
“Waiting to see is half the fun. Blue Falls has the kind of entertainment even money can’t buy.” He motioned toward his shop. “You want a soda? I’m buying.”
“No thanks.” She took a longer look around, and noticed a picnic table under a tree, on a small patch of grass just beyond the parked cars. “Tell me more about this feud.”
“They used to fight with printed flyers, which they put on everybody’s windshield once or sometimes twice a week. Jerry had one printed up announcing a Woodbury tile recall. The flyer claimed that even the slightest spark on a Woodbury floor could cause the whole house to explode. Michael was mad about that one for a full week.”
“What did Michael do?”
Ben stuffed his grease rag in his pocket and then folded his arms. “He announced a half-off sale on all of Jerry Terrell’s expensive scenic prints. Jerry hid most of his prints in the back and then put a sign claiming to be sold out in his front window.”
“I’m starting to like this town already.” The crowd across the street had grown to nearly twenty, all laughing and joking with each other.
“The sheriff put a stop to the flyers. The people loved them, but the street cleaners weren’t thrilled. Shoot, I was constantly picking the flyers up around here too. Between you and me, I think the sheriff gets a kick out of the feud, as long as it stays relatively harmless.”
“Jerry doesn’t have a billboard?”
“Not yet, but we’re expecting him to come up with one any day now.”
Tiffany grinned. “Maybe I better stick around just to see what happens?”
“Maybe you should. One thing though, the smart people stay out of it. Michael’s the town hothead. He hasn’t killed anyone that we know of, but he gets mad enough to.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Hey, how about letting me take you to the annual picnic at the lake. That’s when the fireworks between Jerry and Michael might really get interesting. Every year like clockwork, they get into a shouting match over something. Last year, they almost went to blows.”
“When is it?”
“Weekend after next. We only have one requirement of guests.”
“What’s that?”
“Come hungry. It’ll be a great place to meet people and you never know who might have a job opening.”
“Really?” she asked
“Really.”
She abruptly frowned. “You’re not trying to trick me into going to an AA meeting, are you?”
Ben laughed. “No, they hold that on the Monday after the picnic, when everybody’s sobered up.”
“It’s at a lake?”
“Yep. The kids swim in the lake, there is always more food than we can eat, and like I said, there’ll be plenty of down home entertainment.”
Tiffany could think of at least three clichés he could have said and didn’t. Things were looking up. “Okay, sounds like fun. What time?”
“I like to go around ten and then harass the ladies until they finally feed me.”
“I can’t wait to see that. Well, I better go to that used bookstore.”
“You’ll like it there, I promise.”
She looked up the street and tried to see the bookstore on the other end of Main Street, but a large sign was in the way. “I hope you’re right.”
“Want me to call you when I figure out what’s wrong with your car?”
“Sure.” She gave him her cellphone number and then walked away.
Lucky Ben Coulter couldn’t help but slowly exhale as he watched the town’s new beauty walk away. He glanced at her car, headed back inside the garage, and then muttered, “Finally beat Alex Woodbury to the draw.”
TIFFANY LOVED WALKING, especially since Iowa wasn’t as humid as it was on the east coast, and she didn’t have to worry about her hair wilting immediately after curling it. Lately, she didn’t take the time to curl it anyway. Today however, she simply braided the length and let it hang down her back. Her walk to the bookstore allowed her to become more familiar with the town, and when she looked, Earl was sitting on that same bench watching her. She smiled, waved for a second time that morning, and then kept going.
Tiffany spotted Crazy Eddie right away, after all, there was no mistaking his old, beat up blue pickup truck. This time however, he wasn’t speeding down the street. Instead, he drove at a snail’s pace and although she couldn’t see through his tinted windows, she suspected he was trying to get a good look at the new girl in town. “I wonder what his story is,” she whispered aloud.
Just as Ben said, the bookstore was easy to find. The outdated sign repeatedly flashed Just books, and her first impression of the place was not a good one. Instead of an attractive display, there were piles of books in the window in no particular order. Some had the binding showing and were right side up enabling the shopper to see the title, but most where just haphazardly arranged.
Tiffany tried not to let her displeasure show, timidly opened the door and listened as a set of tiny bells attached to the door announced her arrival. Interestingly, the place didn’t smell like old books, which was a pleasant surprise. Instead, there was a hint of potpourri.
In short order, a woman raised her head above a shelf of books in the back, and pushed her ill-fitting glasses back up her nose. As soon as she spotted the stranger, she shoved a book in place and then headed to the front. Mariam Eggleston never walked anywhere – she marched. A woman with a purpose, she owned a small house a couple of blocks away, arrived at precisely the same time each morning and closed the store at exactly seven in the evening. “Thank goodness you are here.”
“What?” a confused Tiffany asked. Her eyes widened as she watched the older woman continue to trudge toward her. The shop owner wore a pink blouse, a brown, knee-length skirt, and white tennis shoes. Her short, dark hair was a mess, a perm gone bad Tiffany guessed, although it was apparent the woman had done her best to tame it.
“Michael called me. I’m Mariam Eggleston, but you can call me Mariam, and you are Tiffany something or other. Michael said your last name and I promptly forgot it. I’m getting old, I hate very much to say, and my memory doesn’t do a thing for me. We don’t have many named Tiffany around here, come to think of it, you’re the only one in just ages. Interesting name, Tiffany. Follow me.” Mariam did an about face and started back down the aisle.
It was certainly not the kind of job interview she was expecting, but when Tiffany noticed a price tag struck to the seat of Mariam’s skirt, she knew right away she was going to like the place.
Mariam abruptly stopped and turned around. “You want the job? It’s only part time, from two in the afternoon to seven at night, or maybe split shifts, or...whatever. I’ve never hired anyone before.” She put a finger to the side of her face. “That’s true, I suppose, now that I think about it. Sometimes the high school girls help me out in exchange for free books to read.”
Mariam turned back around and started down the aisle again. “You’ll get in trouble if you let the young ones read anything their mother’s might object to. Now, these three rows are fiction and naturally that’s most of what we get in here. The children’s section is against the far wall, and the non-fiction is...let me see, I meant to move it. I wonder if I did? Follow me.”
Tiffany hid her grin. Already Mariam had pushed her thick glasses up her nose three times.
Once more, the store owner abruptly stopped and turned around. “You know how to run a cash register? Never mind, I’ll teach you.” Again, she took off down the row. “I’m a bit of a neat freak and do my best to keep the place clean. I’ll be asking you to help with that too. Hope you don’t mind.” She swiftly turned the corner, went around the end and started down the next aisle. “These are the more, shall we say, racy books. I keep them down the center isle so I can make sure the younge
r girls don’t choose them. Of course with everything on TV these days, the kids probably already know everything anyway. Just the same, I dare not let their mothers know I allowed it.”
“Miss Mariam, I...”
“Mrs., sort of, I guess. I’m divorced, but then isn’t everyone? I suppose you’re not. This section is...” she continued, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath.
Tiffany couldn’t remember meeting anyone who rattled on as much as she did. She followed her new boss from aisle to aisle and listened as carefully as she could, but it was not until they were back to the front counter that she managed to ask, “Mariam, when would you like me to start?”
“Well, are you busy now?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Excellent. You find a place to live?”
“I’m staying at the hotel down town.”
“Well, you can’t live in the hotel. No one can afford that. I’ll see if anyone has a room they’ll let you have.” Mariam walked around the front counter, finally stopped and picked up a note pad. “I have a few friends that request certain books should I get them in. This is the list of the books and the telephone numbers to call. They’re mostly new books just out on the market, you know the bestsellers, and it takes a while before anyone brings one in. By then, my friends usually can’t wait and buy a new copy anyway. Just the same, it never hurts to have good friends, especially in this town. You just never know when you might need them.”
“Why especially in this town?” Tiffany asked.
“You’ll find out soon enough.” Mariam brushed the top of her unruly hair back with her hand. “Oh well, I might as well tell you. There are some in town who think I had something to do with a kidnapping. I didn’t, but some...”
“Earl Woodbury’s baby?”
“You know about that?”
“Michael mentioned it to explain why his father doesn’t speak,” Tiffany answered.
Love and Suspicion Page 5
